I’m a Gen X woman trying to optimise my nervous system while simultaneously preparing to freeze in a Welsh campsite.

This is apparently who I am now.

One minute I’m doing yoga therapy, discussing breathwork, inflammation and cortisol regulation with the intention of a middle-aged wellness guru. (Which I am not)

I have collagen in my yoghurt, magnesium by the bed, a sauna in the shed and an Apple Watch monitoring my recovery levels as if I’m training for the Olympics rather than trying to survive menopause with dignity.

And yet despite all this optimisation, I will still willingly sit outside in sideways Welsh rain wearing three jumpers holding a lukewarm cup of rooibos tea saying:

“It’s nice once you’re wrapped up.”

Honestly, the contradictions of midlife are extraordinary.

We spent our twenties actively damaging ourselves for fun.

Now we discuss gut health with the seriousness of Cold War diplomacy and stretch our hips before getting out of a camping chair.

But I quite like this version of life. Less reckless. More intentional.

Still adventurous, just with slightly better hydration and lumbar support. Gen X really is the bridge generation.

Raised feral. Ageing consciously.

And somehow trying to combine nervous system regulation with paddleboarding in Wales in May. Pray for my joints.