I’ve figured out,
“The Midlife Crisis”
I’m 48 years old. In the middle of my second puberty. Perimenopause. Maybe late stages. Maybe early menopause because I had children early in life. I was finished having three children by 30.
My kids are currently 24, 22, and 17.
For some odd reason, about 40% of people at this point in the story ask if they’re all from the same father. First of all, that’s an unhinged question, how hard does your J hit the Meyers-Briggs? Second of all, yeah. I was with the same man for 17 years. Do the fucking math. Also, I had a middle child with colic. I had to wait to make sure he was cool before I tried again.
Anyhow. Yeah. I’ve emptied the nest. And I’ve hit the midlife crisis. And I’m speaking directly to readers. And I have a little perspective on things that I’d like to share with you.
In the movie I wrote and directed, Pink Skies Ahead,(groan, yeah, sorry but I have a point…) there’s a monologue. A character says something like, You never know how you’re gonna reach your goals. Once you do manage to reach them, you have to set a new goal and figure out how you’re gonna reach it all over again. Cool.
You wanted to be an adult so bad your entire childhood. You wanted the freedom. You wanted choices. You wanted money. You got that. And you wanted to be a child again. You dreamed of the simpler things, maybe being taken care of.. maybe not the case at all.
Then you’re a teenager. God, I just wanna move out. I can’t wait to have a job.
Then you move out. Yeah. You’re an adult. You start your education. You start your job. You marry. You have kids. You stay single. You don’t have kids. You have a partner. You do all of these steps you think you’re supposed to do.
You’ve been told by Christmas commercials. You’ve been told during Growing Pains on television. You’ve been told by the church. You’ve been told by your aunt when you were 17 years old at a funeral. You have been told what steps you have to take your whole life.
And when you become an empty nester. When you hit menopause. When you finish your marriage. When he moves out or she moves out. Because the notion of till death do us part? Be in love. Be married till you die. That’s the dream for us all.
The reality is the opposite of the dream that we all have. And that’s what you realize while suddenly having a midlife crisis alone. Right? You had to move cities because your career changed. Your career changes. Your career always fucking changes. Why does no one tell you that?
If you aren’t born with legacy money. If your family does not have the ability to give you $255,000 to start your first business. And then if your business goes under, they can give you more money. If you aren’t one of those people. If you are lower middle class, you will fight to get out. And you will get out.
YOU SUDDENLY YOU FEEL LIKE YOUR CHILD SELF AGAIN.
All that fantasizing about being a child. Or having a childhood. It happens. But now you are both adult and child.
Guess what, guys? You’re not ancient. You’re not ancient when the shit goes down that you thought you would be ancient for.
You thought moms and dads were ancient when they become grandparents and when kids go off to college… guess what Motherfuckers. They are not.
And that’s the midlife crisis while second puberty hits and suddenly you’re back where you started.
Waiting for your body to cooperate.
Waiting to know what comes next.
Waiting to become.
Except this time there’s no roadmap.
No aunt at the funeral telling you the steps.
No Growing Pains episode about hot flashes and empty nests and finally understanding motivation.
The real mindfuck is you actually know yourself now. That’s the crisis itself. No one is really an adult until they’re 30 years old or they’re orphaned or they’re jailed. The midlife crisis is when you finally realize what’s real. And What’s real for you, isn’t even real for anyone else.
You talk about change.
It scares people.
You don’t even have a shit to give.
You spend your entire childhood wishing you were an adult.
And your entire adulthood wishing you were a kid.
Then, you look in the mirror and there you are with a different face like nothing you ever expected, looks back surprised.
Boo, baby. I’m back.
Whatta joke.
THE END
Back to ages and children…
This Substack is now four years old. My oldest is in STEM grad school. My middle one is working. My youngest is still in school. Your subscriptions buy their books their Christmas presents. Their Uber rides. Your subscriptions fill their cavities. Your subscriptions literally determine the fate of my health. So thank you for always returning. I mean that. There’s an upcoming exciting event this week. Please subscribe today before you forget, a year subscription to Permanent Retrograde is ONE tank of California premium gasoline per YEAR. (Yeah metrics in gasoline prices I’m from Alberta. Later comes my wolf hunting tag analogy. Stay! Subscribe now, y’all)
Merry Christmas Ya filthy animals
