The High Cost of a "Fine" Life

The Midnight Question

The wake-up call came at midnight. I was sitting in bed, watching a documentary called Touching the Void. As I watched these climbers face the literal edge of life and death, I asked myself: “Am I really walking my talk? Am I being the example I would want my kids to follow?”

The answer, deep down, was a quiet, painful no.

I used to be that girl in the photo - adventurous, fearless, invincible.
Somewhere along the way, as I began “adulting”, I forgot she existed. I didn’t fall into tragedy; I fell into a groove. It was comfortable. It was safe. It was…..fine.

I had a bookkeeping business that was successful, but I was working 10-hour days and stuck in the stress of filing deadlines. My kids were healthy. My relationship at the time was okay. My days were full, but my spirit was hungry. I was doing everything “right”, yet I felt like I was sleepwalking through my own life.

Maybe it was the burnout. Maybe it was the late-night silence. But sitting there at midnight, watching that documentary, I decided right then that “fine” wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to get back to a life where I felt alive. I needed something big enough to break the mold I had built around myself.

My answer was a trek to Everest Base Camp - a dream I had held in my soul for as long as I could remember.

The "Buts" and the Reality

The “buts” showed up immediately. I was too busy. I ran a business with strict deadlines. I had a subcontractor who was so unreliable I felt I had to double-check every single thing he did. I was the classic entrepreneur who thinks, “It’s just easier if I do it myself.”

But my biggest concern wasn’t the business. It was my kids. I had never left them for an extended period of time. The thought of being gone for 3 weeks - halfway across the world - was a huge leap.

And then there was the most obvious problem: I wasn’t a hiker.

I loved nature, but I wasn’t out hitting the trails every weekend. When I told my kids my “brilliant” idea, they were actually excited. I think it was mostly because they thought I’d finally stop talking about my obsession with Everest. But when I actually booked the flight, the tone changed. My son looked at me, his face tight with concern, and said: “Mom, this isn’t a joke. This is Everest. This is serious.”

Step one of shaking up my life was complete. I was unsure, I was out of my comfort zone, and I was finally excited again.

The Myth of Confidence

I wish I could tell you that my training and preparation gave me a sense of confidence. It didn't.

I organized the work, I made sure the dog, the cat, and the kids were cared for, and I hit the gym. But as the departure date loomed, I panicked. I remember calling my trainer in a total "What have I done?" meltdown, telling him I wasn't ready.

He looked at me and said, "Georgee, if I know anything about you, it’s that you can do anything you set your mind to. If you left for Nepal today, you would be fine."

I didn't feel confident when I boarded that plane. I felt uncertain, vulnerable, and incredibly alive.

The Machete and the Mantra

The trek wasn't a postcard; it was a series of lessons in persistence.

One day, a landslide had completely taken out the trail we were supposed to walk. The guides from different groups gathered together, using machetes to hack a brand-new path through the steep landscape. It was a much harder path than the one we had planned for.

I was struggling. I was the last one to get through that section that day. To keep going, I stopped looking at the distance. I just looked at the back of my guide’s feet and I counted. 1, 2, 3, 4. It didn’t matter that I was last. It only mattered that I took the next step.

Sometimes you need to get completely out of your normal environment to see things clearly. When you’re stuck in the same office, the same routines, the same conversations, it’s nearly impossible to gain perspective on your own life. The landslide taught me something important. Like any big adventure or life goal, as long as you keep moving and take small, measured steps, you will get through. Even when the path is much harder than you expected.

The Gifts Along the Way

We often take off on adventures to reach a specific destination—the summit, the finish line, the landmark. But the true gifts were hidden in the "rest" days and ordinary moments.

In Namche Bazaar, I watched the local women working from 7:00 AM until dark, crushing big rocks into small gravel with rudimentary hammers. Their children played and laughed around them. I asked my guide if I could try.

I was terrible at it. They laughed at my clumsy swings, but they showed me their tools and let me into their world for a moment. We didn’t speak the same language, but we made a connection. It was hard work, but it was beautiful.

Later, in Pheriche, we were sitting at the top of a peak for acclimatization. The views were amazing for a minute before the clouds rolled in. I remember looking down at my watch and seeing the altitude: 14,000 feet. I realized in that moment I was already higher than the summit of Mt. Rainier.

I sat there with my friend Tylor and my guide Basu, eating a "Coconut Crunchie" cookie.

I remember thinking: If this is it—if this were my last day on earth and I didn't even finish the trek—I would be 100% okay. That moment of being perfectly present was worth the entire trip.

Just as we were almost to Base Camp, I reached a sign that said "Base Camp This Way." I looked down at the dusty ground, and there was a letter "G" drawn in the sand.

I didn't draw it. No one in my group drew it. It was just there. A sign that I was on the right path.

When I got back from Nepal, I was on fire. I wanted out of bookkeeping. I wanted to help people have their own dream-come-true moments. I threw myself into new work, convinced I had figured it out.

I thought one big adventure had permanently shifted who I was.

But here's what I didn't expect: about 10 years later, I found myself back in that "fine" space again. Different circumstances, same feeling. Life has a way of doing that - the groove finds you again if you're not paying attention.

And once again, I had to ask myself that midnight question.

Because here's the truth: getting back to yourself isn't a one-time summit. It's a practice. It's a series of midnight questions and small brave steps. It's noticing when "fine" starts creeping back in and having the courage to ask yourself again: "Am I walking my talk?"

You deserve to get back to yourself - not just once, but as many times as it takes.

You can have a life you love and work you love without sacrificing the things that matter most. But it will require getting out of your normal environment. It will mean venturing into the unknown with total uncertainty. It will be uncomfortable.

The only thing that guarantees you won't get there is quitting on yourself.

Your inner guidance system knows the way - whether it's a midnight documentary that won't let you sleep, or a quiet voice that says "this fine life isn't enough anymore." Listen to it.

Start with one small step. Count it out if you have to. 1, 2, 3, 4.

Look for your "G" in the sand - the signs that you're on the right path, even when you can't see where it leads.

And when you find yourself back in "fine" again someday? Remember: you've done hard things before. You know how to take the next step.

See you next Sunday,
Georgee

P.S. I need your help. I'm building She Can Explore for women 50+ who are ready for more adventure, more movement, more living in this chapter - at whatever pace feels right. If you know someone who belongs in this community, please share this newsletter with them.