mid-life crisis

A friend recently mentioned that she thought she might be heading for an early mid-life crisis; that she's not sure what she wants from life, but it's not what she's doing now.

 

I'm of the opinion that the 'mid-life crisis' is really a 'ticked most of the boxes - marriage, family, career, house, etc, middle class, overwhelmed but still time to analyse in a way previous generations with a more physically-demanding lifestyle, middle-class crisis'. And a lot of people are doing all that earlier, so it's hitting earlier. 

 

My mid-life crisis has been going on for years, and I finally figured out that (for me) I need to look outwards, hence the travel plans. A whistle-stop tour of a checklist of sites/sights wouldn't do it - I have to spend some time absorbing different cultures and seeing how other people live. Volunteer work would achieve something similar. 

 

Possessions aren't important in themselves, nor is money, and children will move into their own, separate lives eventually. So while all of those things are fine in their place, you can have them all and still have a big gaping hole that you only notice when you no longer have to focus on accumulating the 'stuff'. That's when people find religion (in the broadest sense) - a sense of your own tiny place in the universe (as opposed to the younger version where you're the centre of the universe), or become bitter and resentful if they don't get through this stage. And it's tough, because it's such a paradox - you're significant, but you're also tiny in the scheme of things; you're important in some contexts, but not indispensable.

 

I think I'm probably at a stage in life when things are finally falling into place and making sense. Not always the way I'd envisaged them happening, not always how I want them to happen, but it's all ok. All those platitudes about 'nothing is forever', 'nobody is indispensable', blah blah blah ... are right. I still like to be in control of things, but I started a new phase after Miss Tizz was born, and all the drama that went along with that, and then through the pregnancy/birth with the X-man. I remember very clearly thinking, when I made the decision to refuse a planned caesarean section second time around, that if the worst happened and my uterus ruptured (as the doctors threatened) and I died, then that was part of life and death, and I was ok with it. Not an ideal outcome of course, but I was at peace with the risk assessment I'd made, I thought my odds were good, and I could just go with whatever happened. I believe it's a huge part (together with other factors, some of which I engineered - like having a wonderfful independent midwife as support - and some of which were just luck - like amarvellous,considerate, respectful obstetrician being on duty at the right time) of why the X-man's's birth was so very different to Miss Tizz's's, despite them both being emergency caesareans.

I think that was the start of it for me, and the realisation that it's all about the journey, not the destination.