As men at midlife, we generally find ourselves restless, dissatisfied, or struggling with questions we can’t quite articulate. Beneath these feelings lies a profound truth: we may not be living our own lives. As James Hollis writes in Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, “In many cases we are living the unlived life of our parents. Wherever they were blocked, so we may be blocked.”
This insight shook me when I first read it. For years, I was convinced I was choosing my path. But over time, as I reflected on some of my deepest struggles, it’s become clear that I’ve been following a script written in part before I was born.
My drive wasn’t entirely mine. It was tangled up in what my parents unconsciously handed down.
Hollis explains that the lives our parents didn’t get to live—whether due to fear, cultural expectations, or personal limitations—don’t just disappear. They pass along their anxieties, their limitations, and their unlived dreams. They become a part of us. We inherit these unspoken legacies and, without realizing it, either repeat their patterns, try to fix them, or run from them. And often, as Hollis puts it, we use “treatment plans” like overwork, addictions, or distractions to avoid the discomfort of confronting this truth.
The challenge for us, especially as men who want to be a force for good, is that we can’t show up for others from here. We must step back and ask, “Whose life have I been living?” This question, while unsettling, is not a condemnation of our parents. It’s an invitation to clarity and freedom.
Take a moment right now and think about your parents:
- What do you know about their journey?
- What do you know about their wishes, dreams, longings for their own lives?
- Can you see anywhere those things are at play in your life?
You know, when I think about it, the best example of this may just be parents at youth sporting events. All of their unlived hopes and dreams riding on that one call from the ref.
When we uncover how our parents’ unlived lives have impacted us, we can see where we are acting out their stories, instead of acting in ways that are authentic to us. This clarity lets us step out from behind those unconscious patterns and intentionally choose our actions instead. Through this practice, we can reclaim our lives.
For me, this work moves through reflection, which I do by journaling.
- When I am confused, upset and disappointed
- When I felt stuck, restless or judgmental
- When I am overwhelmed and frustrated
I write through my thoughts and feelings and eventually dare to ask: Where did this experience originate? Is this even really mine?
We must understand ourselves better than we ever have before.
This is the work of midlife. It’s not easy, but for me, it’s necessary. If we want to become the men our families, communities, and world need us to be, we must first turn inward and understand ourselves better than we ever have before.
Hollis reminds us that this journey begins with accountability: the willingness to own what we’ve inherited, confront it with courage, and choose a path that honors our true selves rather than the unconscious forces of the past.
Whose life are you living? Five simple words that begin an important inward conversation. An uncomfortable one, but one holds the key to the clarity and freedom which will allow you to truly be a force for good.
