Interesting, madwoman (may I call you Bertha? 
), the life Friedan described so well, the ennui of the Stepford wife in mid-century America, is, I suppose, a life I have now in a way willingly embraced. Does indeed indicate that there is no 'one size fits all' solution. Except, I suspect I find my life now a novelty as I have a PhD in mathematics and spent my professional life in a male-dominated industry and 'proved' myself in that milieu. So now I can trundle off and bake cakes with deep confidence that I have been and done and this is a new and equally interesting stage to me. Not that I was happy before, but it was a plank in what is now my overall contentment, a feeling of useful skills and experience in the bank.
Which is why I think one has to group all that one is right now, not dismiss any of it, all has worth, and then build on that, righting the imbalances that one senses in one's life experience (mine was an imbalance of massive professional achievement and zero personal fulfilment.) Tweaking and rebalancing, a constantly shifting dynamic as children grow and circumstances change. Which is why we're never 'done', always some new horizon to conquer, even if it's only within us, some silent fear or self-censorship or inner failure of courage to be addressed in ways small and sometimes large - but the large is often incremental and the result of many years of small changes then bam! it looks like everything has changed at once but actually there has been subtle upheaval underfoot for years.
The important thing for me is to recognise discontent, not to trudge through life oblivious to the fact that one is discontented, some people don't twig until right at the very end, literally! One lady I sat with (late 80s), her greatest regret, said in clarion, cut glass tones, was that she'd always been so damn nice to everyone. "I just wish, just once, I'd told someone to Fuck Off" (or rather 'Fark Orf", as she endearingly enunciated it! ) So long as one is tinkering away, investigating what 'more' there might be out there that will both nourish you and also challenge you, well, that search in itself even if it never provides definitive answers will engender optimism, hope, a sense of growth and possibility, a reason to get out of bed each day.
Writing a journal can throw up all sorts of unexpected insights that one didn't know one was even harbouring. I try for a mix of daily appreciation of the small things and plotting some 'big things'. If I was dead, to put it baldly, I wouldn't have seen the tiny green-chested bird in my garden today, or noticed the shape of the clouds, or inhaled the smell of my DC after bath time, or had a really strangely-fabulous-just-perfect-cup of tea. One apple tree has just died of some weird blight, I have no parents in the true sense of that word, our boiler has just packed up, myriad suburban domestic annoyances but the daily appreciation of small things and the long term building of exciting new possibilities helps smooth that all over.