Words Natasha Jackson, CPHR, Psychological Health & Safety Professional and Workplace Health Consultant
You know that feeling when you realize you’ve reached the age where your conversations have completely changed?
At 30, my friends and I talked about weddings, first homes, and whether we could survive on instant noodles until payday. At 50, we’re discussing reading glasses, physiotherapy appointments, retirement planning, aging parents, and whether we should all be taking more magnesium.
It’s a different season of life. And honestly? It’s kind of wonderful.
As I prepare to celebrate my 50th birthday this month, I’ve found myself reflecting on the last 20 years. Not in a dramatic “what’s the meaning of life?” kind of way. More in a “how did 20 years disappear so quickly?” kind of way.
One minute I was attending everyone’s wedding. The next minute, their kids were graduating. I swear there should have been more warning.
As I’ve been looking back, something unexpected keeps coming to mind: the people. Not the job titles. Not the organizational charts. Not the things that used to keep me awake at night and that I can’t even remember now. The people.
Many of the most important relationships in my life started at work, which is funny when you think about it. You show up on your first day hoping someone will explain how to use the printer, and 20 years later they’re helping you navigate life’s biggest joys and hardest moments.
We often talk about work as a source of stress. And let’s be honest, work can absolutely be stressful. Deadlines. Budgets. Inboxes that somehow reproduce overnight. Meetings that could have been emails. Emails that probably shouldn’t have been sent at all.
But that’s not the whole story. For many of us, work is also where life happens. It’s where we find mentors, friends, and people who understand exactly what we’re going through because they’re living it too.
It’s where coworkers become trusted confidants. Where someone notices you seem a bit off before you’ve even realized it yourself. Where people celebrate your successes, sit beside you through losses, and quietly check in when life feels heavy. Looking back, I can barely remember some of the projects I spent months working on, yet I vividly remember the people.
I remember laughing until I cried in staff rooms. The conversations in hallways that somehow turned into lifelong friendships. The colleagues who became part of my chosen family. The people who stood beside each other through career changes, caregiving responsibilities, aging parents, health challenges, celebrations, and all the twists and turns life throws our way.
When experts talk about social determinants of health, they often focus on things like housing, income, education and access to healthcare. Those things matter. A lot. But I think belonging deserves a place in that conversation too.
Humans are wired for connection. We need purpose. We need community. We need people.
For many of us, work provides all three. Not because the work itself is always exciting. Let’s be honest: nobody wakes up thinking “I can’t wait to update that spreadsheet.” Well, maybe somebody does. But not me.
What keeps us coming back are the relationships, the shared purpose, and the feeling that what we do matters to someone. My grandmother had a saying I think about often: “When you’re 20, you think everyone is talking about you. When you’re 40, you don’t care if they’re talking about you. And when you’re 60, you realize nobody was talking about you in the first place.”
The older I get, the more I understand what she meant. Life becomes less about impressing people and more about appreciating them. Less about achievements and more about connections.
Less about climbing ladders and more about looking around and noticing who’s climbing alongside you.
As I turn 50, I find myself feeling grateful. Grateful for the friendships I didn’t know I was going to make. Grateful for the people who showed up. Grateful for the colleagues who became lifelong friends. And grateful for all the ordinary moments that didn’t seem particularly important at the time but somehow became the moments that mattered most.
The truth is, some of the greatest gifts of the last 20 years weren’t accomplishments or titles – they were people. Many of them I met at work. And if health is about living a meaningful life, then those relationships have contributed more to my health than I ever realized.
So here’s my question for you: When you think about the last 20 years, who are the people who unexpectedly became part of your story?
And have you told them lately?
