In the Middle of Life We Find Ourselves Alive

I should probably reread The Pavilion.  It's where the title of this post comes from, and it has been in my head lately.

It recently occurred to me that I may be having a (shhhhh) "midlife crisis." I want to whisper about and tiptoe around this because it feels embarrassing for some reason, but it would make a lot of sense. In the US in 2021, the life expectancy of a female was 79.3 years, so I'm in the right age range for it.

I think that learning earlier this year about my favorite ex-boyfriend (that was a nickname, not a ranking) having brain cancer was the inciting incident that started me thinking anew about mortality. At first I thought it was just about the ex-boyfriend, but this makes a lot more sense (and, honestly, once I came to this realization, I haven't thought about him nearly as much).

This has been a season of nostalgia what with a college reunion last year and a high school reunion (as well as an internship reunion) this year. There's also talk of a coworker reunion next summer.

There were also a lot of big life changes in a short span of time: getting married, changing careers, buying a house, and having a baby all within 2.5 years. 

Then there are the recent and impending losses: the sale of my Chicago condo and the family vacation condo (neither of which I got to "say goodbye" to) and the upcoming sale of my childhood home. The last nonprofit arts organization I worked with closed recently and suddenly. (The Artistic Director there had the same birthday as me, so I felt a particularly special connection to that organization.) And, the independent media nonprofit I've worked with since the start of the pandemic may need to be dissolved in the next two years if we can't find enough new board members and volunteers. 

Then there's declining health: My mother's. My aunt's. Hell, even I have unexplained joint pain that I hope is only from childbirth but may be tendonitis, carpal tunnel, arthritis, or joint hyper mobility disorder, and I definitely still have some pesky lingering postpartum (and possibly also fresh new perimenopause) hormones.

I'm mostly bored and dissatisfied with my current job (and especially with management), but ambivalent about finding new work because the downtime there is the only time I have for me (sort of). For months now, I've told myself that I'll be ambitious again later, but I want to focus my energies on my family right now. Now I wonder if I can actually keep at a job that bores and dissatisfies me. It's not something I've been able to do well before.

And let's not forget the generational existential dread about how the human race is going to destroy itself (or the planet) before too long, so good luck to the children, assuming they get through grade school and high school without being shot. 

Or the self-doubt about all the decisions I've made along the way: to bring a child into this awful world, to leave my dream career, etc.

So yeah, it's a lot, and I'm assembling an army to help me with this battle. Using the EAP at work and leaning on friends from various seasons of my life. Admitting I need (and asking for) help is not something that comes easily for me, and I really hate feeling vulnerable, but I know those are the first important steps to getting the help that I need get back to feeling like myself.

On the plus side, I am not interested in buying a Porsche. 🤷🏻‍♀️