At some point in midlife, many of us stop saying "I’m great" and start saying, "I’m coping".
It sounds reassuring enough. Competent. Functional. A phrase that suggests we’ve got things under control or at least taped together well enough that nothing is actively "on fire".
But "coping" is often a polite way of saying "I’m exhausted, overwhelmed and quietly wondering how this became my life".
As a psychiatrist, I hear this word every day. As a midlife woman, I live it. And as a comedian, I can’t help noticing how absurd it is that we’ve come to treat constant strain as normal and struggling as a personal failure, preferably managed quietly and with a smile.
THE AGE OF #COPING
Many of us grew up with an idea of midlife that involved a certain easing of pressure. By now, we thought, things would be calmer. The children would be more independent. We’d feel confident in who we are. Life might not be perfect, but it would at least feel manageable.
Instead, midlife often arrives with a long list of competing demands. We may still be parenting — sometimes teenagers, sometimes adult children who boomerang back home with laundry and strong opinions. We may be supporting ageing parents. Many of us are at the peak of our careers, carrying significant responsibility at work. Add in health changes, menopause, financial pressures and a background hum of anxiety about the state of the world, and it’s no wonder so many people feel stretched thin.
In my clinical work, I see people who are functioning impressively on the outside holding down jobs, caring for others, keeping the plates spinning, while feeling utterly depleted on the inside. They’re not unwell in a way that fits neatly into a diagnosis. They’re simply worn down.
That’s what #coping often looks like.
WHEN COPING BECOMES THE GOAL
Coping is meant to be a short-term strategy. We cope through a crisis. We cope through a difficult season. The problem arises when coping becomes a permanent state.
When that happens, life narrows. We stop asking whether we’re enjoying ourselves or finding meaning. Instead, we focus on getting through the day, the week, the next obligation. Joy, rest and curiosity quietly slide down the priority list. For many people, self-care now sits somewhere just before Christmas shopping and somewhere after picking up dog poo. Something we know we should do but endlessly postponed.
There’s a familiar airline analogy: put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. What we tend to forget is that this advice doesn’t just apply to aeroplane emergencies. It applies to coping with pretty much everything in life.
You can’t pour from an empty cup. And yet many of us are attempting to do exactly that, while wondering why we’re so tired.
WHY MIDLIFE IS HARD
Midlife brings a particular kind of reckoning. We become more aware of our limits — physical, emotional and energetic. Bodies change. Recovery takes longer. A late night now requires a written recovery plan.
Illness, either our own or that of people we love, becomes more visible. There’s also a grief that can surface at this stage of life: grief for the paths not taken, the energy we once had, the certainty that used to come so easily.
Even positive change can be destabilising. Retirement, downsizing, or children leaving home can all create unexpected emotional gaps. We’re often surprised by how much adjustment these "good changes" require.
At the same time, we’re living in a world that feels increasingly uncertain. Many people describe a low-level sense of dread about global events, climate change, the future their children or grandchildren will inherit. It’s hard to thrive when the ground feels unsteady beneath your feet.
None of this means you’re failing. It means you’re paying attention.
THE BURNOUT OVERLAP
In psychiatry, what many people describe as "coping" overlaps closely with burnout. Burnout isn’t just about work; it’s about prolonged stress without adequate recovery.
Common signs include emotional exhaustion, irritability, brain fog, loss of motivation and a sense of detachment. You’re still showing up but you’re running on fumes.
Burnout doesn’t happen because you’re weak. It happens because you’ve been strong for too long without enough support.
One of the most damaging myths I encounter is the idea that the solution is simply to "try harder" or "think positive". In reality burnout is a signal that something needs to change not that you need to push through with gritted teeth and an even longer to-do list.
WHAT ACTUALLY HELPS?
There’s no single fix, but there are some gentle shifts that make a real difference.
Lower the bar. Many of us are operating with impossibly high standards often inherited from younger versions of ourselves who had more energy and fewer responsibilities. Letting go of perfection isn’t giving up; it’s adapting.
Reduce emotional load. Notice how much invisible labour you’re carrying. Are you managing everyone else’s feelings, schedules and needs while ignoring your own? Some of that load can be shared, delegated, or simply put down.
Redefine productivity. Rest, pleasure and play are not indulgences; they’re essential. A life made up entirely of obligations is not a sustainable one, no matter how colour-coded the calendar.
Practise self-compassion. Talk to yourself the way you would to a close friend. Most of us would never speak to others the way we speak to ourselves, and yet we do it daily.
Ask for support sooner rather than later. Whether that’s professional help, practical assistance, or honest conversations with the people around you, support works best before you’re completely depleted.
FINDING MEANING — AND LAUGHING ALONG THE WAY
One of the reasons I turn to comedy is that humour allows us to tell the truth without being crushed by it. Laughing at the absurdity of modern life doesn’t mean we’re minimising our struggles — it means we’re creating space to breathe.
There’s something deeply healing about recognising yourself in someone else’s story and thinking "Oh. It’s not just me".
We don’t need to be endlessly positive or relentlessly resilient.
Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is admit that this stage of life is complicated and that doing your best might look very different from day to day.
If you’re "just coping", you’re not broken: you’re human. And with a little honesty, humour and support, coping doesn’t have to be where the story ends.
The show
• Dr Jo Prendergast is #coping
• Dunedin Fringe, March 18, 20, 21, Te Whare o Rukutia
