I’m 42 and I’ve just run full-pelt into a mid-life crisis.
I have a wonderful relationship with the most terrific man in the world, my friends are totally awesome, I am lucky to live in Sydney in a home we are (slowly, excruciatingly slowly) paying off and I have a decent job which although it doesn’t pay bucket loads (I work in the arts after all), I have found rewarding. I have a full social life and there isn’t much I don’t reasonably get to do if I really want to.
But here’s the thing: I don’t have children.
This may be why I am running headlong into a mid-life crisis but my friends are not. In a world where women are still doing almost twice the amount of unpaid domestic work of their male partners, my friends with their full-time jobs and full-on children don’t have the emotional time or space for a mid-life crisis. Turns out I do.
As my time is my own, I’ve been busy working, obtaining my Masters, enjoying the sunshine, keeping fit and healthy, taking full advantage of the cultural city in which I live and generally focusing on me. We also have a cat. I love our cat, he is adorable and fluffy.
I know, I can hear the collective groan!
But it wasn’t always all about me. I actively worked towards a better world in my younger days, raising money, raising awareness when that was a bigger job than clicking ‘like’. I did the 40-Hour Famine every year as a very young and idealistic teenager (do they still do the 40-Hour Famine? Is that still a thing?). My idealism has faded however and these days I feel like I’m making a contribution when I recycle.
Suddenly my internal dialogue has turned from “the world is my oyster” to “have I reached my peak?” I’m not going to be rich or famous, I’m not going to make a scientific discovery that saves the world (especially given I don’t work in science). Nor will I be delivering a ground-breaking speech on women’s rights at the UN, and Australian Story isn’t going to knock on the door to profile my recent decision to learn to surf at 40 despite my fear of waves (this one is real though, I have started learning to surf).
This is it. This is me. Am I enough for me?
What makes me, me? In my shiny youth I could point to my potential, my love of discovery, of creating and of sharing. I travelled the world solo, discovered my Japanese soul and delighted at my fellow intrepid explorers and their terms of reference so different from my own. I challenged myself every day, kept myself open for change and said yes to almost everything. I tried and succeeded in some things, failed at so many others, and laughter filled my life.
These experiences and decisions have formed who I am now, exploring my independence and discovering my strength created the essence of me. What makes the substance of me?
Is it my willingness to compromise these days, my pragmatic move from vegetarianism to pescetarianism a prime example? Or is it in my usual steadfast opinion, readily formed and freely given (no-one’s going to die wondering what I think)? Perhaps its reflected in those around me, the ones I am so lucky to call my friends, with whom I can debate, laugh, eat and dance.
In a world where women are expected to fade gently into the background as they age, where we are expected to dress appropriately, make room, apologise, I say NO! Im vowing not to go quietly into the dark night, passion will once again rule my days and I will be seen and heard. The memories of my youth will keep me happily occupied in my dotage, but I plan on making new memories, right now and right up until I skid into the grave.
It seems like the perfect time to not only join a protest but start a movement, a ground swell of protest that will be seen from space. I’m going to do things I haven’t done in years, try activities I gave up on long ago (like camping. Who in their right mind enjoys camping?) and try something, many things, new. I can’t wait for the perfect storm that is sure to ensue.
The first half of my life has been fantastic, so much adventure, so much joy, so much unadulterated delight. I’m determined to make the second half just as good. Look out world, I’m on my way. Want to come for the ride?
