I think I had my ‘midlife crisis’….. and I liked it?
I’d much prefer to call it my midlife liberation.
Welcome to Delightfully Difficult! My name is Allison and I write about motherhood, midlife, and everything in between. You can learn more about me and what to expect here, as well as connect with me on Instagram. Thanks for stopping by!
Also, before I jump into today’s post, I want to thank everyone for the kind outreach on my last post about motherhood, redefining success, and walking away from the career you thought you wanted. It was cathartic to write and nerve-wracking to publish, and your support is so very much appreciated.
A funny thing has been happening recently. Social media is inundating me with advertisements for birding equipment and perimenopause tips. Here I was, happy to be on the other side of the you’re-not-unlovable-because-you’re-a-damaged-single-mom! “motivational” content and in comes the reminder that I’m getting old, ankle socks and all. And while yes, I do enjoy my Merlin ID app and am reading more about hormone shifts in your 40s, I was suddenly hit with the question: Am I middle-aged?!
Depending on who you ask, middle age is anywhere between 35 and 60, with most settling on 40-50 (and shifting later as time goes on). As with most things, the Internet has wildly different opinions on this subject, so do with that what you will. But growing up, people turning 40 were careening towards a crisis, if not already in the midst of one. According to the movies, men just couldn’t resist buying a convertible sports car and running off with a blonde half his age. Overwhelmed by the trappings of married life and fatherhood, they needed to escape, to feel free, to recapture their youth (only now with more money). Women, on the other hand, suffered from a crisis of self that plunged them into a dark depression or mental breakdown. Like most things related to women’s mental health, this was done in private.
When I think about these stereotypes now, as a mom and former wife, what I see are parents in the thick of it. They’re working, the kids are in school and probably have extracurricular activities. The dads work long hours at the office, leaving mom to handle literally everything else, only without the option to leave the house and spend countless hours with others adults. Both parents are getting older, which means they’re probably not sleeping as well, maybe stressed about paying the bills or figuring out the perfect family vacation. In the movies, dad feels neglected by mom and falls for the young woman who works for him, mistaking proximity for passion and taking advantage of a power dynamic that wasn’t discussed at the time. Meanwhile, mom, who has already been carrying the full mental load of taking care of the family, is left shocked and devastated, but still almost exclusively picking up the pieces for their kids. This is gross generalization, of course, but you get the idea.
These days, this narrative has been largely diminished, relegated to jokes or as an excuse for poor behavior. Not quite accepted as the norm but not not accepted as a concept. But despite the flawed version of the midlife crisis we were sold, I think there is something to be said for uprooting your life in midlife.
I recently turned 42 and as I look in the mirror, I can see the crows feet, the beginnings of saggy skin if I’m not properly moisturized, the slight droop of an eyelid. The gray hairs are sprouting and my hormones, while not going off the rails quite yet, are definitely sending little signal flares that I’d better be on the lookout.
I know that chronologically, I am in midlife, but I feel like I’m just getting started. I’m in the beginning of my second act, where I finally get to reap the benefits of all that I’ve been through. Big changes and hard things will still come my way, of course, but generally speaking, I have a handle on things. I like my life and more importantly, I like myself.
I haven’t had the midlife crisis that the movies told me I was owed, but I have had my midlife reckoning, one in which I left my marriage, shifted careers, and became a single mom in the span of 2 years. If that seems quick, it was, but it also wasn’t, as it stemmed from a deeply held recognition that what I wanted and what I was doing were not in alignment.
So while I’m not so sure I believe in the concept of midlife crises, I do believe in midlife liberations.
I call it a liberation because for the first time probably ever, I was able to set down the expectations of others and of myself. Instead of keeping my head down and going through the motions like the people-pleaser I was, I started to take stock of my life - my desires, thoughts, and goals - and methodically decided which would stay and which would go. Midlife crises are messy and abrupt, but this was a carefully planned exit strategy from the life I was living and into a new and improved version of it.
So when I think about that dad in the movies who runs off with someone half his age, I think the audacity! And when I think about the mom who sunk into a depression, I think obviously! And then I think, it’s really not that different now.
Women still take on the majority, if not all, of the mental load for caring for their families. They do it while also working full-time, and they oftentimes do it while spending more time with their kids than moms did 50 years ago. They’re expected to do it all, and to do it well, and to do it with a smile (don’t even get me started on the “supermom” mentality). Meanwhile, not much has changed in terms of the expectations for dads, other than spending more time with their kids and to pitch in equally at home. The bare minimum is aspirational, leaving us clamoring for something that should be a given.
It’s no surprise that many moms who are doing it all - working full-time, serving as the default parent, carrying the vast majority of the mental load - are uprooting their lives for something better, whether with or without their partners. Life is hard enough with *waves hand at literally everything from student loans to childcare to soaring housing costs to attacks on reproductive rights to the price of berries* without also continuing to bear the brunt of the traditionally inequitable family and marriage structures that make life even harder.
Which is all a very long-winded way of sharing why I’m not sold on the midlife crisis but am all in on a midlife liberation. May yours be beautiful.
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