What? It’s as easy as buying a sports car, getting a new hobby or looking a photos? And for what? So chicks will turn their heads, or you can whittle an owl or wax nostalgic over the little bambinos? Give me a fucking break.
It may have a stupid name, but midlife crises, whatever they are, deserve greater attention. You look at your place in the world, and find yourself wanting, and you realize you don’t have much time left to achieve what you meant to achieve. And it’s not just a single point in time crisis. It’s spread out, growing as you watch yourself age, but also as you are frustrated by yourself, as something inside is missing.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I know I want some kind of unique contribution to the world. Something people care about. What’s frustrating is it’s hard to tell whether what you’ve done means anything to anyone else. And don’t give me that crap about doing it for your own enjoyment. No one’s tastes are created in a void. Every choice we make is informed by what we’ve learned about others and their preferences.
We do things because of their worth in our tribe, and I’m no different. We may do different things, but that’s because we believe in them—that others don’t see their worth—yet. But when you’ve been doing your thing for so many years, and people haven’t seen the worth yet, or they have seen it, but it’s not the appreciation you expected —that’s when the crisis hits.
What the fuck have I been doing? Have I been wasting my time? Can I fix this, or do I need to start something new? Should I give up and just have as much fun as I can, or should I keep going?
And if I need to change, what about my current responsibilities? What about the people I love? If I change dramatically, it will affect them all with similar force.
Yes, people love to make fun of the cliche. But I think that’s because the underlying issues make us so uncomfortable. They create the potential for huge upheaval; huge damage. It’s about meaning. The meaning we make of ourselves. It’s about coming to grips with those lifelong dreams that have been pushing us forward—especially the dreams we never were aware of, but were pushing us unconsciously.
I don’t know the answer. I can’t help anyone. I am perfectly inadequate to that task, and many others. I am insignificant in the eyes of my tribe, and that kills me. Maybe literally. Why should I have to be significant? No particular reason, except that was how I was brought up.
It feels like it’s now or never. Never lasts a long, long time. I don’t know if I’ll ever give up hope. Maybe it isn’t just now, but also some time in the future. But there will come a day when I give up hope, and that will be the day I die.