The Ghosts of Midlife: Who Have We Left Behind?
Halloween is the one night of the year when we can become someone else without anyone questioning it. We can be the seductive witch or vampire, a femme fatale, a rock star, a princess, the wild child, a superhero, or a character who commands attention when you walk into a room. We can put on a costume, change our hair, turn up the music and step into a persona that might feel a little too daring, too outrageous, or too unlike our everyday selves— And there's something enchanting about that.
Yet I've also been thinking about what happens when the costume comes off. Because somewhere in midlife, Halloween can become more than a night of dressing up. It can become a curious little dance with the ghosts of who we were, who we wanted to be, and who we are afraid we've stopped being. What if we aren't trying to become someone else at all—yet are trying to find someone we think we've lost.
In our youth we could dance until dawn, turned heads, look and feel desirable, be more spontaneous, fearless, or full of possibility before careers, bills, relationships, children, responsibilities, disappointments, and the general circus of living that takes up so much room. And maybe, just for one night, we want her/him back.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel sensual, playful, wild, strong or alive. Good grief, I hope we never outgrow that. But there's a difference between celebrating the person you are and desperately trying to prove they are still the person you used to be. One is an expression of aliveness. The other can become a negotiation with time. And midlife has a way of bringing that negotiation to the surface. But perhaps the ghost we're chasing aren’t always the selves we used to be. Sometimes it's the person we never quite got the chance to shine and become.
The Haunted House Of Self
By midlife, most of us, without realizing it, have accumulated a few ghosts. Not the spooky, scary kind, yet the versions of ourselves we've carried throughout the years, some willingly and others out of habit. There's the good girl/boy who learned not to make waves. The people-pleaser who became so skilled at anticipating everyone else's needs that they lost track of their own. The rebel who still wants to prove they can't be told what to do. The overachiever who doesn't know how to rest without feeling guilty.
And then there's the person who built an identity around being needed, being dependable, being the one who could handle absolutely everything. Some of these parts of ourselves got us through difficult seasons. They helped us belong, feel safe, earn approval, or keep the peace. They deserve a little compassion. But do they still need unrestricted access to our house of self?
Because sometimes the very qualities that served us in one chapter become the very things that keep us stuck in another. We keep handing the microphone to an old version of ourselves without stopping to ask whether they still have anything useful to say. Midlife offers us a chance to look around, notice who's been living rent-free in our heads, and decide whether it's time to change a few locks or hold an excersism.
Our Halloween Costumes
And then there are the people who show up in our imaginations. The ones who seem to possess something we wish we had a little more of. The unapologetic. The sensual. The person who speaks their mind, takes up space, says what they want, and doesn't spend the next three hours wondering whether someone misunderstood their tone.
Maybe they are the Joan of Arch or Spartacus, the misunderstood Lilith from the bible, or a superhero. Maybe they are the goddess, gods or a sage— or maybe she's just a woman in fishnet socks, loafers and shimmery lipstick who has absolutely no intention of explaining herself to anybody. We might imagine them as a character, someone we can borrow for a night before returning to our ordinary lives. But what if the qualities we admire in them aren't just make-believe.
What if they're parts of us that have been waiting for an invitation? We don't have to become the whole person in the costume. We might simply need to give ourselves permission to be a little more daring, a little more playful, or a little less concerned about what others think. This midlife season are you ready to let the costume come off and invite yourself to wear its confidence instead..
The Ghosts Who Need To Come Home
Not every ghost needs to be ghostbusted and banished. Some need to be welcomed home. The individual who loved to create and make things, travel, dance in the kitchen, ask ridiculous questions, or dream up a future without first calculating all the reasons it might not work. The person who once had an ambition they quietly put aside. The parts of us that got tucked away beneath careers, providing, caregiving, relationships, heartbreak, and the endless list of things that needed doing.
Perhaps we didn't lose those all those parts of ourselves— maybe we simply stopped making room for them to exist. What if the haunted house within is simply an echo of the heavier emotions of sadness or grief that verberate how long they've been waiting to return. It’s ok for us to mourn the paths we didn't take without deciding that our lives went wrong. We can acknowledge the younger version of a person we were— without trying to squeeze ourselves back into their old skin. And we can pay our respect and memorize them for getting us this far.
The Person We Fail To See
This might be the most important haunting of all— the person we fail to see because we're too busy looking backward or imagining who we ought to become. The part of our self who has lived through things their younger self couldn't have anticipated. Who has loved, lost, started over, changed their mind, learned a few hard lessons, and discovered that some things they once thought were essential no longer matter nearly as much.
They may not have the same exact body, or the same energy, the same circumstances, or the same ideas about what makes a life worthwhile. But they have something the younger versions of themself didn't yet possess —the experiences of having lived, and that deserves to be recognized. Growing into our age doesn't mean we must surrender our sensuality, curiosity, ambition, or appetite for adventure. Nor does it mean we have to keep proving that we can still do everything we did at twenty-five.
We get to decide what growing older looks like on us. We can be both wiser and wilder. More grounded and more adventurous. Less interested in approval and more interested in what actually makes us feel alive. We can honor the person we've been, welcome back the parts we've neglected, and make room for the person we're still becoming. Perhaps the real magic of midlife is realizing that we don't have to choose just one version of ourselves.
Midlife Necromancy
What if midlife is it’s own form of necromancy, the calling forth the parts of us that life buried under responsibility and resurrecting the parts of ourselves we mistakenly declared as gone. Sometimes we had to quietly bury our hopes, dreams or aspirations, when life demanded something more practical of us. Maybe those parts of us have been waiting in some kind of spiritual in-between space, similar to where a soul goes while waiting to be reborn, and are listening to summoned.
Halloween is the perfect time to orchestrate a little séance for the living. Reclaiming the parts of ourselves we thought we'd outgrown that weren't asking to be left behind. Maybe it’s time to dim the lights, grab a candle and set up a sacred space and see which forgotten parts of ourselves are still lingering in the shadows, waiting for an invitation to come home.
A Halloween Recipe for Midlife Necromancy
For resurrecting the parts of yourself that were never really dead.
Ingredients
1 candle to illuminate the shadows (bonus points for dramatic candlelight)
1 journal and your favorite pen
A playlist that stirs something in your soul: sultry, nostalgic, wild, witchy, or wonderfully weird
A sacred little corner where you can be uninterrupted
A few deep breaths and a healthy pinch of curiosity
One forgotten dream, buried desire, or long-lost version of yourself
An open mind and absolutely no need to take yourself too seriously
The Preparation
Set the scene. Dim the lights, light your candle, put on your music, and create an atmosphere that feels a little different from your everyday life. Take a few breaths and let the noise of the day settle. Imagine you're opening the cellar door to an old, familiar place inside yourself. Somewhere in that space are the versions of you who once dreamed, dared, played, created, or wanted something more.
The Séance
It's time to call the gathering to order. In your journal, invite one of those forgotten selves to step forward. Perhaps it's the wild child, the artist, the adventurer, the sensual self, or the girl/boy who had a dream they never quite pursued. Then ask—
What have I forgotten about you?
What have you been waiting for me to remember?
What would you like to bring back to life?
Write without editing, judging, or worrying about whether your answers make sense. You aren't required to summon profound wisdom. Sometimes the ghost has a big revelation. Sometimes they just wants you to dance in the kitchen again.
The Resurrection
Choose one small thing you can do to welcome that part of yourself back into your life. Make something. Put on the fishnets. Wear the lipstick. Book the adventure. Turn up the music and dance like nobody's watching. Give that forgotten part of yourself somewhere to live beyond tonight.
The Closing Spell
Place your hand over your heart and offer a little gratitude to the person you've been, the person you are, the person you earned to be and the person you're still becoming— and with a deep breath, blow out your candle.
May the ghosts of who you were be greeted with tenderness, the dreams you've buried be given room to breathe, and the parts of yourself you've left behind be welcomed with love. May you know which ones to bring home, which ones to set free, and which ones are ready to rise again—and remember that becoming yourself is a kind of magic all its own.