46 and the Happiest I've Ever Been — Five Sliding Doors Moments

Turning 46 in Bali got me thinking about every decision that got me here.

While I was in Bali on the Solo Mum Society group holiday, I turned 46. I was in paradise, surrounded by my daughter, a group of solo mums who've become genuine friends, and a version of life I could not have predicted for myself a decade ago.

And somewhere between the birthday and the warm water and the noise of everyone's kids playing together, I found myself doing the thing you do on a birthday that ends in a number you have to sit with for a second. I started thinking about sliding doors.

You know the ones. The moments where life could have gone one of two ways, and you happened to go through the door you went through, and everything since has unspooled from that one decision.

I thought of five of them. Five decisions that, had I made them differently — or not made them at all — would have given me a completely different life. Not necessarily a worse one. Just a different one. And looking at where I am now, genuinely the happiest and most content I have ever been, I wanted to sit with what got me here.

1. Becoming a solo mum by choice

This is the obvious one, but it's worth saying properly.

I made the decision at 37, the day my Dad passed away suddenly and started treatment the seven months later, eventually having my daugter six weeks before my 40th. birthday. Had I made that decision even a few years later, my fertility may not have allowed it, or the journey would have been longer, harder, more expensive — if it had been possible at all.

The sliding doors moment behind the sliding doors moment was my dad passing away unexpectedly. Had he not, I genuinely don't know if I would have made the call in time as it wasn’t something I was even considering. Maybe I would have worked it out later. Maybe never. His death gave me a clarity I wasn't expecting, and it cost me something I can't get back, and both of those things are permanently tangled together in how I became a mother.

If I hadn't made that decision, there's a real chance I wouldn't have become a mum at all. I might have kept waiting for a partner who may never have shown up. I think about that sometimes — the version of me who waited. I'm so glad I'm not her.

2. Becoming a vegetarian

This one feels small next to the others, but it's mattered more than I expected.

It wasn't a taste decision. It was about animal welfare — something that's always been close to who I am. And the thing that's stuck with me isn't really about food at all. It's that I made a decision that mattered to me, and I never wavered. Not once, not in a moment of convenience, not at a barbecue, not anywhere.

That's proof to myself, in a small daily way, that I can follow through on the things that matter. It's become part of my identity rather than a rule I follow. And it's quietly built a kind of self-trust that I draw on in much bigger decisions too — if I said I'd do something, I generally do it. Including the things only I will ever know about.

3. Getting sober

I don't really want to think about who I'd be if I hadn't made this decision.

I’m fairly confident I wouldn’t be the mum I am. I don't think I'd be as balanced, as present, or as content. I think I'd still be in the vortex — caring too much what other people thought, trying to conform, trying to be liked and keep up with others, getting pulled into the "mummy needs a wine" culture that tells women exhaustion should be numbed rather than addressed, and chasing superficial friendships built on complaining about how hard and unfair parenting is.

I think I'd be using alcohol as a crutch instead of actually dealing with my life. Spending money I didn't need to spend. Chasing a kind of social validation that never actually filled anything, because nothing external ever does.

Getting sober gave me my confidence back in a way I didn't expect. It made me a homebody, genuinely content with simplicity — an evening with my daughter, a quiet morning, my own company. I now really value genuine friendships where I can show up authentically, rather than putting on a mask to be accepted by people I don’t even like. I stopped needing to fill the silence with something else. The gratitude that came with that has changed almost everything else on this list.

4. How I chose to navigate the end of my marriage

This wasn't the decision to end the marriage — that wasn't mine to make. But how I chose to move through it was entirely my call.

I decided, at the time, to see it as a gift. As an opportunity for a second chance at happiness I didn't know I needed. I chose grace and dignity over fighting. I chose not to waste my energy on a battle my husband didn’t care about. I was allowed to be hurt and angry, but wasting my energy fighting with him or airing our dirty laundry to somehow get back at him or show me as the “winner” or “victim” wasn’t worth my energy.

When I picture the sliding doors version of that — the marriage that stayed together (but for how long) — I see a miserable version of myself. A nagging, toxic dynamic I wasn't built for. A 14-year-old child, no doubt co-parenting by now, struggling, and sad, which is a genuinely terrifying thought. A smaller life, still in New Zealand, shaped by circumstances rather than choice.

I'm deeply glad that door closed. It let me walk through the one that led here.

5. Leaving corporate to build something of my own

This is the decision that gave me back my time, my flexibility, and a sense of purpose I didn't know I was missing until I had it.

I love the lifestyle I've built. I love that the work I do every day is something I actually care about — helping other women understand they have options, building a community that didn't exist when I needed it, watching the impact ripple out further than I expected.

It hasn't always been easy or certain and the financial stress is very real. But it's mine, and it's built around the life I actually want to live, not the life a corporate calendar decided for me.

What contentment actually looks like now

I wake up most mornings genuinely happy to get out of bed. I'm not hitting snooze for an hour, avoiding my own life. I care far less what other people think of me than I ever have.

I measure success differently now. Not by a man, a relationship, or anyone's validation of my worth. By how well my business is doing, the impact I'm having on the women in this community, how happy my daughter is.

I don't need to fill silence anymore. A quiet evening at home with my daughter, doing nothing in particular, is enough. More than enough. I spend far less on the things I used to think would fill some kind of void — eating out, drinking, a social life that looked busy but felt hollow. I genuinely don't miss any of it.

I trust myself. Self-doubt isn't running the show anymore. I believe I can achieve the things I set out to do, and that belief alone has quietly removed what used to be my biggest restriction. It doesn’t mean I always achieve them, but it does mean I generally start, I don’t just think about it.

The next 45 years

If I live to 90, I'm exactly at the halfway point. And that's an odd, clarifying thing to sit with.

The thing I'm most aware of now isn't a sliding doors decision waiting to be made. It's something quieter and more practical: my health.

Not to be skinny. Not to attract a partner. To be full of energy. To be confident. To be strong. Strong enough to keep up with my daughter. Strong enough that I'm not the mum complaining about getting up off the floor, or a sore back, or knees that won't cooperate. I want to understand my own limitations and actually work with them, instead of pretending they don't exist until they force the issue.

I've ordered a walking pad and a standing desk, because no matter how much I've tried to prioritise movement, work has always won. So I'm building it into the day itself, rather than trying to find time for it separately.

I'm paying proper attention to my skin, getting the health checks I've been putting off, taking the right supplements, eating more protein — which, as a vegetarian getting older, takes actual effort. And I'm making it easy on myself rather than setting myself up to fail. Protein shakes and bars instead of pretending I'll cook elaborate high-protein meals every night, because I know myself well enough now to know that version of the plan never survives contact with real life.

I want to change my body composition for strength, for bone health, for the version of getting older that means doing more, not less.

Because I want to be around for a very long time. For my daughter and for everything that's still ahead of me that I haven't even thought of yet.

If you're standing in front of your own sliding doors moment

Maybe it's the decision to become a solo mum. Maybe it's something else entirely — a relationship, a career, a habit, a health decision you've been putting off.

I can tell you this much: the version of me who didn't walk through these doors would not be living a life anywhere near as good as the one I have now. And I had no way of knowing that for certain at the time. None of us ever do.

You just have to walk through the door anyway.

Alisha x