Lifestyle
Lonely and depressed at 50, I launched my own midlife reboot
“Are you leaving again? ” I asked my husband, Rob, as he packed for his second trip with the guys in three weeks.
“Only for a few days.”
I could sense the elation he felt in escaping. He was heading out to chase ski runs, and I was staying home, taking care of the dogs and eating “girl dinners” alone. I hated that I wasn’t having fun adventures anymore. I didn’t give myself permission to pursue what interested me, partly because I had no idea what to pursue. How did people figure out what to do when their nests emptied out?
When I turned 50 in 2018, I was struggling with depression and any sense of feeling good in my body had been turned upside down. I was recovering from open-heart surgery, menopause was looming and I was losing a sense of purpose. For years I had set aside the writing goals I held dear and opted to put Rob and our blended family first, but in the quiet moments, I felt empty. Although I was tremendously grateful to have a spouse whose paycheck covered our needs, I felt there was something missing in my own personal development. I attempted to fill that emptiness through overeating or shopping, which left me feeling worse.
“I didn’t give myself permission to pursue what interested me, partly because I had no idea what to pursue. How did people figure out what to do when their nests emptied out?”
With my daughter in high school and entering a highly independent phase and Rob’s kids launched (this was a second marriage for us both), I wondered what was next. Suddenly it seemed like the built-in social structures I had leaned on in my 30s and 40s were evaporating in midlife. Volunteering at my daughter’s school was a thing of the past and the mom groups had long disbanded. My daughter needed me much less — and spent half her time at her dad’s. I realized that part of what I was feeling was loneliness.
It’s well known that loneliness can increase the risk of heart disease, dementia, stroke, anxiety and depression in older adults, but its negative effects are not limited to seniors. The surgeon general declared loneliness a nationwide epidemic last year. But for older generations in particular, research shows that friendship is important for slowing cognitive decline and has a host of other health benefits.
I wasn’t sure where to start, because it felt like so many shifts were happening at once, but I knew that being married wasn’t an automatic cure for loneliness. The relationship dynamics between Rob and me began to shift with age. Rob was a high achiever who worked hard and played hard, while I struggled to find my footing as a part-time writer. When I was younger, it felt natural to prioritize him and his needs as the breadwinner. But that got harder as I hit my late 40s.
In some ways I had stunted my own development in order to make my marriage succeed. I chose not to pursue work that might have been too demanding or taken me away from my family. Those choices felt like the right thing to do at the time, but I had no economic power. In counseling our couples therapist told me, “You need to do something about this inequality. Sometimes you need to grow apart before you can grow together.”
So I did something about it. I launched my own midlife reboot.
Tara Ellison volunteering at California Wildlife Center. Hand feeding offers care givers an opportunity to examine the sea lion and elephant seal pups without the stress of handling.
(California Wildlife Center)
Midlife occupies the intersection between how you’ve lived in the past and how you want to proceed going forward. In recent years, women have begun to rework the narrative around menopause, reimagining it as a type of coming home to oneself. The upside is the moment offers a chance for reinvention, an opportunity to chart a new course. I might have been up against a changing body and wacky hormones, plus a side of loneliness, but I was determined to rework that hand into something more favorable — even if I had no idea how.
I had to make peace with my body and better understand its needs. A prescription for more fresh air and sunshine, going for walks became essential for my mental health (especially during COVID). In order to feel my best, I paid closer attention to my hormones and hunted for a gynecologist interested in what happens to women beyond child-bearing years. That proved harder than I imagined, considering that menopause happens to half the population. Years ago, when I entered perimenopause, there weren’t resources for women on social media. The stigma attached to perimenopause meant nobody was going to own up to being on a downward slope (especially not in L.A.!) I had to learn to advocate for myself — and be a guinea pig — in order to manage my symptoms. It was a maddening journey but I learned a lot.
With the goal of meeting other women my age, I began attending book signings, workshops or menopause symposiums solo so that I would be forced to work through my social anxiety and make conversation. It’s fun to hear what other people are up to, and it turns out indulging in creative passions is high on their lists. One woman I know rediscovered her love of playing the piano; another spends her free time painting.
Sometimes it’s not as easy as falling back into an old hobby. “I spent all this time caring for my family and now I get time for myself — I just don’t know what to do with it,” one of my girlfriends in her 60s confided. Another friend shared that two years before her retirement she started carrying a notebook to which she added a note every time she found something she was interested in exploring. Once she retired, she started working her way through that list. Through these conversations I realized that, contrary to what society wants you to believe, the oldest women in the room are often the most interesting.
“Contrary to what society wants you to believe, the oldest women in the room are often the most interesting.”
Creativity was an important part of my reboot, but I also wanted to devote my time to something larger. Studies have confirmed that being of service or volunteering can be a vital step on the path to happiness and satisfaction. After discovering an injured sea lion on a beach in Malibu, I met Heather Henderson, the marine program manager at California Wildlife Center in Calabasas, and began volunteering with its marine mammal rescue division. The organization rescues and rehabilitates sea lions and elephant seal pups. The pups arrive skinny and malnourished, receive care and medical treatment and are released.
“It’s not glamorous work; you might not like it,” one of the volunteers warned me in the beginning. He was right; some of it is really gross. But sometimes you don’t know what you’re made of until you’re tested. There’s a lot of cleaning equipment, chopping frozen fish for fish smoothies and scrubbing slimy pinniped poop out of the pens. It’s now a normal occurrence for me to find fish scales buried in my sports bra. But I’ve found that some of the mundane chores are relaxing and make me feel more present. I stop worrying about the declining health of my mother and other pressing issues when faced with the task of hand-feeding a young elephant seal.
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1. Resting in the sun promotes healthy skin. (Tara Ellison) 2. Once swallowing well, the elephant seal patients are ready to start feeding in the pool. (California Wildlife Center)
I was surprised to find that many other volunteers also were middle-aged.
“Due to the physical nature of the job, there is a common misconception that to be successful one must be young,” said Henderson. She estimates about 35% of the active rescue and rehabilitation team are 45 years plus.
“It has been rewarding to know that I remain relevant and necessary beyond the needs of my family,” one of my fellow volunteers, Debra Loggia, told me. At 64 she estimates she’s one of the oldest volunteers at CWC, but she takes pride in knowing she’s also one of the strongest. I understand what she means. Doing this work for six seasons has given me a new confidence, plus a sense of purpose and community.
Now, six years into this reboot, I occupy a completely different emotional space. I’m far less dependent. Through identifying my interests, expanding my community and pursuing new work opportunities, I’ve effectively outsourced my happiness.
Without the weight of expectation, my relationship has thrived. I’m more engaged in what I’m doing. On volunteer days I come home full of stories of tube-feeding elephant seals. Because work has picked up — I’m in the process of writing a book and a screenplay — I sometimes have to prioritize those deadlines, even when it’s inconvenient. Rob has been supportive throughout this process, largely because I’m a lot more fun. By pushing through a stretch of listless loneliness and embracing my fears, this midlife crisis ended up blooming into a midlife renaissance.
It’s not all perfect. I still get lonely and have days when I’m down, or need to lower my expectations. There’s a certain amount of melancholy about aging that I can’t simply jettison. But it doesn’t upend me anymore — I still surprise myself.
“You’re leaving me,” Rob said as he watched me pack for a short trip with a girlfriend.
“It’s only for two nights,” I said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’ll still miss you,” he said. And I believed him.
Tara Ellison writes about relationships and the challenges and triumphs of midlife. She’s currently working on a memoir.
Lifestyle
OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf
Lifestyle
How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet
The scoreboard shows the results of the women’s singles final match between Iga Swiatek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London, Saturday, July 12, 2025.
Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP
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Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP
Fifteen points in tennis? Nice. Thirty, 40 — even better. Advantage — that sounds good. “Love” — that also must be great, right? Well, not quite.
As the French Open rolls on and Serena Williams has announced her return to the sport, maybe you’ve been paying a little more attention to tennis. The sport’s scoring system is notably distinct, and can sometimes be hard to grasp for newcomers. But even tennis aficionados might not know why, or how, “love” became the unmistakable callout for zero points. For this installment of NPR’s Word of the Week, we’re exploring how a word that signifies trailing behind got such a sweet name.
“Love” comes from the heart — or an egg?
It’s hard to pinpoint when the first tennis ball went over the net. Tennis is a derivative of lots of other sports, such as “jeu de paume,” a handball game played in France, said JT Buzanga, the collections manager at the International Tennis Hall of Fame museum.

But tennis became a patented, official sport in 1874, said Steve Flink, a journalist whose tennis coverage got him inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. It has retained its unique, mysterious scoring system ever since.
“By and large, the original system has held up almost entirely,” Flink said.
The use of “love” goes back to the late 18th century, said Jesse Sheidlower, a lexicographer. But it was used earlier than that in card games such as whist and bridge. Before the term made its way to tennis, the sport favored plain old “nothing,” or “nil,” he said.
Why love in the first place, though? Historians don’t really know for sure, but there are a few theories.
The French could have something to do with it. Some historians believe “love” derives from “l’oeuf,” which means “the egg” in French. Because eggs are shaped like zeros, terms such as “goose egg” and “duck’s egg” have been used in other contexts to mean zero, Sheidlower said.
It’s also possible English speakers mispronounced l’oeuf as “love.” But Sheidlower isn’t convinced that’s the answer.
“It’s the French equivalent of an English expression. But since that expression doesn’t appear in French, the French word wouldn’t have been used,” he said.
To be sure, France has had a lot of influence on tennis culture, Buzanga said. For example, “deuce” or a game tied at 40 points, comes from the French word for “two”: “deux.” But he prefers another prominent theory: that “love” comes from the idiom “for the love of the game.” Even if a player hasn’t scored, it doesn’t matter, because their heart is in it. It’s the theory Sheidlower said is the most plausible, because the idiom was used by the English before tennis was popularized.

Another variation of the “love of the game” theory is that the word could have come from the Dutch “lof,” or “honor” — or the Latin “amare,” meaning “to love,” Flink said.
But if tennis’ “love” doesn’t come from a French word, the theory at least has a French sensibility.
“I think the ‘for the love of the game’ is kind of romantic,” Buzanga said.
“Love” probably isn’t going anywhere
Tennis used to be a sport of leisure. The style of play has changed a lot over the years; players are more athletic and competitive, for instance, Flink said. But the rules of the sport are more steadfast, he said.
“There’s this incredible, enduring respect for tradition in tennis,” he said. “Changes are not made easily.”
There has been one major change in modern history: the tie-break. Matches can go on and on because players have to score two consecutive points to break a deuce, or by two games to break a tied set. But the onset of television meant matches would have to get shorter if the sport wanted to capture a larger audience, Flink said.

Change even came for “love.” An alternative sprouted up in the 1970s, and is still used today: “bagel,” named for its zero shape, Sheidlower said. Novices may say “zero,” and insiders will understand what they mean, but they “will needle them about it,” Flink said.
But “love” still prevails.
“People kind of like it,” Flink said. “It’s different. Why say zero when you can say love?”
Lifestyle
With Highway 1 open, Big Sur braces for its busiest summer in years
On a 75-mile cliff-hugging stretch of highway in California, traffic is way up, despite soaring gas prices. And locals expect the busiest summer in years.
The road is Highway 1 in Big Sur, which reopened in January after three years of repair and reconstruction following a pair of landslides. Drivers can once again embark on the state’s most famous road trip, covering the 100 miles between Cambria to the south and Carmel to the north without leaving the two-lane coastal highway. And they’re heading out in big numbers.
Caltrans estimates that as of May, Big Sur restaurant and retailer guest counts are up 40% from last year, and that northbound traffic at Ragged Point, the southern gateway to Big Sur, has risen 900% year-over-year.
People pose for photos near Bixby Bridge. Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking around the bridge.
Safety cones prevent parking along Coast Road near the Bixby Bridge.
“Take your time,” said Kirk Gafill, co-owner of the popular Nepenthe restaurant and president of the Big Sur Chamber of Commerce, offering advice to travelers. “You’re going to be sharing the road with a number of people.”
As travelers rediscover the road, the cost of driving has been shooting skyward. California’s average gas price ($6.11 per gallon as of May 26) is up 26% from the year before. In early April, rates hit $9.99 at the isolated gas station in the Big Sur community of Gorda.
For spring and summer travelers, these numbers would seem to pose a stark question: Stay home and save money, or head for the coast because the road is finally open and it’s still cheaper than flying?
So far, the latter answer is winning big.
Fog lingers off the coast of Highway 1.
“We are definitely seeing a huge uptick in our reservations,” said Megan Handy, assistant general manager at the upscale Treebones resort. She estimated that bookings are 30% or more ahead of last year, and rates are unchanged since then. But “it’s still not feeling super crowded, which is nice. Everything still feels kind of calm.”
But added traffic has raised some anxiety. On May 19, Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking at Bixby Bridge, one of the region’s top photo spots.
Over the years, the number of cars parking near the bridge — often illegally, sometimes impeding emergency vehicles — has risen. The proposed parking moratorium won’t take effect until the supervisors discuss it further.
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Busy as things are, several business owners pointed out that many international travelers have not yet returned — perhaps because most make their plans more than six months ahead, perhaps because of global politics, perhaps a little of each.
The biggest challenge for businesses during this resurgence? “Restaffing and retaining,” said Handy at Treetops.
At Nepenthe, Gafill said his business has seen a 45% boost in guest volume since the road’s reopening. Gafill said he would have expected a 35% pickup, “simply by virtue of reopening the highway.” The additional 10%, he said, might be “all that pent-up demand,” aided by “a very beautiful and very dry winter,” followed by a mild spring.
A lunch crowd dines at popular restaurant Nepenthe.
Another possible factor: Nobody can be sure how long the road will remain open.
To cope with the influx of people, Gafill said, “everybody is trying to recruit and retain their existing staff.”
At the Ragged Point Inn, where rates dropped as low as $149 nightly last fall, rates are back over $200 and staffers are suggesting that customers book at least six months ahead. The inn has reopened its snack bar for the first time since early 2023, and management is investing in capital upgrades and staging live music on weekends throughout the summer.
Business “is up over 100%,” said Diane Ramey, whose family owns the inn. “I know not all of our neighbors are having the same lift, but everybody is doing better.”
Traffic approaching Bixby Bridge.
A visitor poses in an oversized chair at Big Sur River Inn.
Even at the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a Benedictine monastery above Lucia, the road’s reopening and coming summer season have made a difference. Bookings are up an estimated 30% at the hermitage, which rent rooms and cottages (for two nights or more) to visitors who agree to its requirement of silence.
Big Sur business owners advise visitors to travel on weekdays for less traffic and the best hotel rates, and to get on the road as early as possible.
Since its opening in 1937, the highway has been vulnerable to landslides and shifting ground, operating on a longstanding cycle of landslide, closure, repair, reopening and then another landslide, or sometimes a fire. The U.S. Geological Survey has identified the Big Sur coastline as one of the most landslide-prone areas in the western United States. The 2023-2026 closure was the longest in the highway’s history.
Over time, road crews have used increasingly sophisticated strategies. In the most recent efforts, Caltrans said, it used drones to help survey the slopes and remotely operated bulldozers and excavators to reduce risks to workers.
During the closure, no traffic was allowed on 6.8-mile span from just north of Lucia until about a mile south of the Esalen Institute. Drivers detoured inland by way of U.S. 101.
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