Midlife? Really? Well, I am **cough, cough** thirty-nine years old, and since I don’t want to live to be 100, I guess that makes me pretty close to halfway through my life. But then, I could die next week. That would mean I hit midlife when I was 19 and a half. I’m not trying to be morbid… just realistic. I’m trying to make the point one never really knows when their midlife is.
So, what is midlife crisis? How do we know we’re having one if we don’t know when we are at the mid-point of our lives? Don’t answer those questions… they’re rhetorical. Everyone knows the true sign of having reached midlife is the sudden urge to buy a shiny, new sports car. That’s a given.
Me? While it’s true I would commit a number of crimes in order to own a restored 1967 Mustang, I don’t think that has anything to do with my own midlife. I’ve wanted one of those since I was 19 and a half. Oh…uh…hmmmm… Note to self: Don’t leave the house next week.
Here’s my crisis, midlife-related or not:
I need something. I don’t know what it is, exactly. I just know I need something different… something adventurous… something challenging… something mentally and physically stimulating. I’m not content staying home, doing the same thing… day in and day out. I’m tired of the same routine everyday.
I’m… I’m… bored!
There. I said it. Let the judging begin. Go ahead, I’m used to it. I judge myself harshly all the time. Every good Christian woman knows we are supposed to be content… some would even say we should be “happy” all the time. It must be my fault that I’m not content. Maybe I don’t pray enough. Maybe I don’t read my Bible enough. Maybe I’m just not “spiritual” enough.
Maybe if I were more like that Proverbs 31 woman, I’d be content. Want to know a little secret? Don’t tell anyone, but I hate that chick.
So, what do I do? I was happy and content while I was training for my marathon. Now it’s done and I’m bored again. So, why not train for another one? Maybe that would take away the boredom. I still love and need running but I’ve had to cut way back since my injuries threw me a curve ball. And, for some reason, it just doesn’t have the same novelty to it anymore.
Maybe I should get a job. Hey! Great idea! Oh wait, what do I do with my young children? I refuse to hand them over to a daycare situation if I can help it… been there and done that. Yes, I could work somewhere where the hours are the same as my kids… but what kind of job is that? Working with kids. I’m tired of kids. I want something different, remember?
I’ve always thrived on change. I love change! If I could have it my way, we’d move every couple years… different houses, different cities, different states. I don’t know if the upheaval and chaos caused by change boosts my adrenaline, or what. I just know I’ve always needed change. In my adult life I’ve changed majors, I’ve changed college jobs, I’ve changed friends, I’ve changed careers, I try to change my hair often (but it always looks the same).
I also love adventure. I want to do something dangerous enough to scare me but not dangerous enough to kill me. I want to see how far I can push my body.
I want challenge. Something that stretches my mental capacity. There are only so many times I can hear about Sponge Bob and Patrick before my brain starts to shrink and get soft. And believe me, I know a lot about Sponge Bob… too much! Scary.
So, what do I do? Climb Mount Everest? Go back to school and study criminal psychology? Train for a triathlon? Race car driving? Throw a rock into a hive of killer bees and run?
I can hear the imaginary “church ladies” telling me to:
- Enjoy this time, kids grow too quickly. Yes, I know that and I agree. My kids are NOT the source of my discontent… I just want to supplement my life with something besides kids.
- Find a group of women to meet with, to share your lives and experiences. Nice thought… but there are very few women I really bond with. Being in a group of women for too long makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide. Truth is, I like men. I prefer to hang out with men… but since I’m married, I can’t really do that anymore.
- Take up a hobby or a craft. I DESPISE crafts of all kinds. In fact, I think I have craft-phobia… I break out in a cold sweat whenever I am forced to do a craft.
I don’t know what I will do about this supposed midlife crisis. I do know that, now that I’ve identified it, I feel better. It’s just a matter of figuring out something new to do… something that challenges me, stretches me, scares me, pushes me, and creates a certain level of havoc in my life.
Stay tuned… I’ll let you know, once I figure it out!