For years, I kept trying new things.

I started businesses. I learned new skills. I sold products, offered services, built social media platforms, changed directions, closed businesses, and started again.

People might look at that history and think I spent years trying to “find myself.”

For a while, I probably thought so too.But at 35, after trying so many different things, I’ve come to a completely different conclusion:

We don't need to find ourselves at all. We need to decide what kind of life we want—and then build ourselves around it.

After I got married and became a stay-at-home mom, my life changed dramatically.

Before marriage, I was active and busy. Then my first child came, and suddenly I was home every day. I loved being able to raise my child myself, and I never wanted to send my children to daycare just so I could work. But staying home was still an adjustment.

I needed something beyond the four walls of my house. I wanted to learn. I wanted to create. I wanted to experience new things. I wanted to use my brain for something other than remembering when I last changed a diaper. And dont get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with that; it was just not ME. And there was another part of it that I think many stay-at-home moms understand.

Tell someone you're a doctor, engineer, lawyer or business owner, and suddenly there are questions.

Where do you work? What exactly do you do? How did you get into that?

Tell someone you're a stay-at-home mom, and you don't always get that same excitement.

There is this strange idea in society that staying home raising children means you're “just” cooking, cleaning and taking care of kids—as though raising human beings isn't important enough on its own.

So I started looking for things I could do from home.

Interestingly, money wasn't even my main motivation in the beginning.

I was bored.

I wanted something that belonged to me. Something interesting. Something that kept me learning while still allowing me to be the mother I wanted to be. Eventually, those experiments turned into several businesses over the next ten years.

Some things lasted a short time. Others lasted years. I would become interested in something, learn about it, try it and see whether it worked for my life.

Sometimes I lost interest.

Sometimes the amount of work simply wasn't worth the outcome.

Sometimes something worked financially but required more of me than I wanted to give.

And sometimes life itself made the decision for me.

My last major business was breeding cats, which I did for around six years. Eventually it became physically and emotionally exhausting. My family wasn't a fan of having so many cats in the house, allergies were another concern, and then I became pregnant with twins.

That pregnancy was the final push I needed.

I knew what was coming. Two newborn babies, my other children, my home, and no village waiting to take over everything for me. I couldn't keep doing it. So I closed that chapter too.

But I don't look back at it—or the businesses before it—and think, I failed again.

Quite the opposite.

Most of the businesses I tried involved selling something. Sometimes it was a physical product. Sometimes a service. Sometimes something digital.

Through those experiences, I learned how to sell. I learned customer service and communication. I learned how to understand what people want and how to serve them in a way that leaves both sides satisfied. I learned how to build social media platforms.

I learned how to market different products to different people. I learned how to position something so customers were willing to pay me more than they might pay a competitor.

I learned business.

But probably the most valuable thing I learned was myself.

Every experience gave me another piece of information:

I like this.

I hate this.

I'm good at this.

This makes money, but I don't want to live this way.

I enjoy this, but not enough to do it every day.

This works beautifully with motherhood.

This takes too much away from my family.

You don't always learn those things by thinking about them.

Sometimes you have to live them.

At some point, though, I started wondering when I was finally going to find the thing.

We hear this advice all the time:

Go find yourself.

Find your passion. Find your career. Find what you're supposed to do with your life.

So I approached things almost like an experiment.

Maybe this is my thing.

No?

Okay. Maybe the next one.

Still no?

Let's keep looking.

But after years of doing that, I think we've been asking the wrong question.

Instead of asking:

“What am I supposed to do?”

I think we should first ask:

“What do I want my life to look like?”

That's a very different question.

Build Your Work Around Your Life.

Before choosing a career, business or next big project, imagine the life you actually want.

-What kind of home do you want to live in?

-What kind of income do you want?

-How do you want your mornings to feel?

-How much time do you want with your children?

-Do you want to travel?

-Do you want to work from home?

-Do you want a quiet life or a busy one?

-Do you want employees and a big company, or would managing people make you miserable?

-How many hours are you willing to work?

-What are you absolutely unwilling to sacrifice?

-What values aren't negotiable?

Get clear about that first.

Then ask what kind of work, business, education or skills can help you build that life. I think many of us do it backward. We choose a profession or business because we're interested in it, and then slowly construct our entire lives around the demands of that choice. I want to do the opposite now.

I know what kind of mother I want to be. I know what kind of family life I want. I know the quality of life I'm working toward. I know what I'm willing to sacrifice and what I'm not.

Now I can evaluate opportunities based on whether they move me toward that life.

That clarity took me years to develop. And I don't regret those years. 

At 35, I can't tell you I've finally discovered my one perfect thing.

I understand myself much better than I did five or ten years ago.

I know what I'm building toward.

And strangely enough, that makes me feel more prepared to start again than I have ever felt before. 

-I've raised five beautiful children without having a village around me.

-I've built and closed businesses.

-I've dealt with customers, problems, competition, disappointments and successes.

-I've learned how to market and sell.

-I've learned how to start with nothing and figure things out as I go.

-I've learned what drains me and what energizes me.

So if I build something new at 35, I'm not actually starting from zero.

I'm starting with everything the previous versions of me learned.

You're Not “Too Late”

Maybe you're 35.

Maybe you're 40.

Maybe you're 50.

Maybe you're 70.

And maybe you're looking around thinking everyone else figured out their lives while you're somehow still trying to figure out yours.

So what?

There is no book somewhere that says that once you reach a certain age, you're cooked.

Who decided that?

Even at 70, you don't know how many years of life you still have ahead of you. If there's something you want to learn, build, change or experience, go do it.

Nobody is standing there with a rulebook telling you your opportunity expired.

I don't think we ever reach a point where we should say, That's it. I've accomplished everything. I don't need another goal.

Enjoy your life. Enjoy what you've built. Enjoy your family. Enjoy the money you've earned and the beautiful things you've worked for.

But have something ahead of you too.

And that goal doesn't have to be a business or some enormous professional achievement.

It simply has to mean something to you.

Something to learn.

Something to improve.

Something to experience.

Something to build.

Something that makes you curious about what's next.

At 35, I don't feel like my life is winding down.

I feel stronger than I did before because of everything I've already lived through.

I'm not embarrassed that I've changed directions.

I'm grateful that I did.

Every chapter showed me a little more clearly what I want—and what I don't.

And maybe that's the point.

With Love, Alena Assaad.