🛑 Things I Stopped Doing in My Late 40s

My 49th birthday is approaching quickly. 🎂

One year left in my 40s.

I don’t feel old. But I definitely feel clearer.

There’s something about this stage of life that sharpens your discernment. I find myself less interested in performing and more interested in protecting things like my energy, my sleep, my peace, and my space. I want to protect this life I’ve worked hard to build.

When I look back at my younger self, I’m proud of her and I certainly don’t judge her. She was ambitious, adventurous, curious, open, and probably a little crazy. 😆 But she tolerated things I simply won’t anymore.

Here are a few things I’ve stopped doing in my late 40s.

1. Staying up late

There was a time when staying up late felt harmless, even productive. I could function on less sleep and convince myself I was fine. But over the years, I’ve become deeply aware of how profoundly sleep impacts everything: hormones, mood, appetite, inflammation, metabolism, cognition.

Sleep is no longer negotiable. I leave earlier. I wind down intentionally. I guard my bedtime. Not because I’m rigid, but because I value what deep rest does for my health.

2. Getting drunk

In my younger years, I never imagined I’d be someone who could go out and not drink. Or have one or two drinks and genuinely be done.

Things are different now. I don’t need alcohol to unwind or participate. I can relax, connect, laugh, and enjoy myself without the inflammation, disrupted sleep, or inevitable hangover. I care too much about how I feel the next day. Plus, it costs way too much to call an Uber these days. I need to be able to drive home!

3. Calling psychedelics “drugs”

Language matters. In my work and in my own life, I’ve come to see psychedelics more as allies. These are tools for healing, insight, expanded awareness, and occasionally joyful recreation. Used responsibly, they are relational experiences, not reckless ones.

The distinction is important. The word “drug” often carries connotations of numbing, escaping, or disconnecting. When used intentionally, most experiences with psychedelics are quite the opposite.

4. Going to events I don’t want to attend

For years, I said yes out of obligation or fear of missing out.

Now I check in with my body first. If I feel drained before I even arrive, that is information I need to listen to. Every “yes” costs something. I try to make sure my yes is real.

5. Living in cities

I once enjoyed the stimulation of constant motion and hustle and bustle. I lived in Seoul, Korea, a city with a population of 10 million (more than New York City) for 16 years. I thrived there. But now I notice how much my nervous system thrives in stillness.

I need trees, mountains, space, and natural light. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Colorado last year. I’ve come to understand that environment is medicine. 

6. Letting friendships drift because I’m “too busy”

There was a season when work felt urgent and relationships felt flexible. Now I see how backwards that was.

Connection regulates us. It protects against stress and inflammation. It reminds us who we are outside of productivity. I am much more intentional now about reaching out, maintaining bonds, and prioritizing meaningful time with people I care about.

No one on their deathbed wishes they had worked more.

7. Neglecting work–life balance

I love my work. I care about what I’m building.

But I no longer romanticize burnout. I no longer equate exhaustion with productivity. If my nervous system is chronically taxed, everything suffers: my health, my clarity, my patience, and my joy. Not worth it.

8. People pleasing

For much of my life, I derived a sense of safety from being agreeable and accommodating. But constantly scanning the room to make sure everyone else is comfortable is exhausting. I didn’t always realize how much of my energy went toward anticipating reactions, softening or holding back my opinions, or smoothing things over. It actually felt responsible, even mature.

Now I understand that chronic accommodation isn’t the same as integrity. I can be thoughtful without abandoning myself. I can be compassionate without being drained in the process.

9. Feeling the need to explain myself

There is quiet power in letting your decisions stand without attaching a full explanation.

I don’t owe everyone a detailed defense of how I spend my time, what I believe, or what I say no to. If someone is committed to questioning or misunderstanding me, no amount of explanation will change that anyway. Peace is more important than universal approval.

10. Being judgy

As I’ve gotten older, I have much more compassion for people. I understand now that everyone carries a backstory I may never fully see. What once irritated or confused me often makes more sense when I zoom out. Differences are what make us unique and interesting.

And that compassion extends inward. I’m far less self-critical than I used to be. Perhaps becoming more self-accepting is what has allowed me to be less judgmental. Not sure which came first. What I do know is that I no longer correct myself for every imperfection or misstep. Growth is messy, and judgment rarely helps. Curiosity feels better than criticism.

If this resonates…

If you’re in a season of reassessing what stays and what goes — whether you’re 39, 49, or 69 — you might recognize this shift. It’s about becoming more honest and intentional. More YOU.

A significant part of my coaching work centers on this exact process. I help people identify what is genuinely soul-satisfying and together we build the boundaries necessary to protect it.

It’s less about adding more habits and more about removing what’s draining, clarifying what matters, and restructuring life in a way that supports your  health and deeper sense of purpose.

👉 If you’re feeling the pull toward realignment, this is the work I love to do. If you’d like information about my coaching services, you can book a free consultation with me here: https://annadesmarais.com/work-with-me.