Facing Mid-Life with My Younger Self
Why he may be the answer to surviving the crisis
WELCOME TO MID-LIFE
Let me set the stage. I’m about to turn 46. I’ve been married for seventeen years and have four children ranging in age from fifteen to seven. I’ve been in my current corporate job for five years with thirteen years’ experience in the industry. I don’t love my job, but there are worse places to be. My evenings are spent either attending or shuttling kids to and from activities. I volunteer one evening a week at my church, and occasionally I’m home to either work on or neglect one of the many things that require my attention. Weekends are a mix of full schedules with kids’ activities and family gatherings. Those that aren’t full are spent catching up on housework and trying to keep the kids occupied. Once in a while, if the weather cooperates, I’ll sneak away to do some reading or fishing. But for the most part, my attention is on the needs surrounding me.
It’s a pretty generic life, at least in my corner of the world. One that, in many ways, I’m grateful for. But as I’ve crept into the second half of life I’ve experienced a combination of exhaustion and restlessness. Exhaustion because my body is aging and my family is busy. (I take credit for some of that due to questionable nutrition and physical activity.)
The restlessness is the result of something else — the “crisis” that so many mid-lifers understand. I’ve tried to avoid using the word “crisis”, but it seems to be the best description of what I and many others experience. I’m constantly plagued with questions and doubts about past choices, current challenges, and future changes. Am I screwing my kids up? Am I letting my wife down? How did I end up in a career that is less than fulfilling? Why do I worry about finances so much at this stage of life? Am I focused on the right things? Am I making my life count? Am I wasting time? When can I take a nap?
That’s just a taste of the thoughts that run through my head as I drift through a life that’s already half over, hoping the next half will feel different. That’s a pretty bleak picture, though it’s not entirely accurate. Yes, I have those thoughts and feelings. No, it’s not all the time. I’ve spent time looking back it gratitude. I’ve taken steps to live in the moment more consistently. It’s not the looking back or living in the now that creates tension. It’s the lack of looking forward. To have the hopes and dreams that were a natural part of my younger years. And that’s a problem.
LOOKING BACK
When I was eight years old, I dreamed of what was to come. Writer, musician, actor, chef. Whatever it was at any given moment, I would picture a future of excitement. A future of me doing something that I could do well and would bring me joy.
In my twenties that continued, though the dreams were more reserved and realistic. I still had those early dreams, but I kept them in check with what was possible and safe. Whatever they were, I looked at each as an exciting possibility. Something to strive for. Possibilities that motivated me to keep moving forward.
That doesn’t happen as much anymore. I realize I don’t look forward as often as I did. The moments that I do, it isn’t done with excitement. And I think that’s the essence of this so-called crisis.
CAN YOU RELATE?
If you’re in a similar slump, take a moment to think on this and see if you can identify. Much of your thought life is spent reflecting on the past with questions ranging from “How did I get here?” to “What if I had done something different?” The rest of the time you’re just reflecting on your current situation and how unfulfilling, mundane and exhausting it is. The moments are few when you take the time to look forward to where your potential can take you. You view the future as more of the same. Too late to move in any other direction. When you do identify a possible path, you remind yourself that it’s either too late, you’re too old, or there’s too much at risk. So you bring yourself back to your current reality, put your head down, and continue. All the while fighting the voice of that eight or twenty-year-old telling you there’s more ahead.
LOOKING AHEAD
How do I make a place at the table for my younger self again? How do I partner with him, combining his forward-thinking optimism with my experience and wisdom? I need him right now. I need his enthusiasm. I need his passion that was ready to take on the world. But he can’t work alone. The truth is, he needs m le too. He needs my encouragement. He needs my input. He needs my perspective. He’ll keep me looking forward, and I’ll keep him looking back. We’ll achieve a balance that will provide me with an exciting vision for the future and him with the tools needed to succeed.
So, I’m reconnecting with that kid. Getting to know him again and reflecting on who he’s become. In the process, he’s reminding me who I can and want to be. So far it’s been an interesting reunion. I’m hopeful it will be a fruitful one.
