I'm going to be 38 in a couple of weeks. I get it- why did I title this, " a proper midlife crisis"? Welp- It's because as a women I'm creeping up to the big 4-0. Supposedly soon after I should be dead.
That last line was written with heavy sarcasm.
Tell me I'm wrong though! I haven't checked off all the "expected" boxes as a woman, so you know- technically I'm sort of a failure.
Again, sarcasm.
I think I am having a bit of one though. Coming out of the last couple of years, (Cheers, Covid.) and solidly in the latter part of my 30's means I'm assessing my life. What have I done? What will I do next?
This was also most likely triggered by the fact I've been informed my 20th high school reunion is this fall, and I have mixed feelings about it. I grew up in a small town, and as soon as I realized I needed to run away from there, I did. I don't have much in common with most of the people I went to high school with, and haven't stayed in touch for the most part.
I'm a mixed woman who is- also divorced, (practically a former child bride over here), queer, no children (someday), no real-estate (can't afford that shit anyway), have 2 and 3/4 degrees, (fucking over achiever) and a thriving business (#bossbitch). I've travelled the world, loved across the Kinsey scale and been loved more than once. I've lived. So if the curtain came down tomorrow, I've lived a fulfilling life... I think anyway.
We all look around when these milestones start to occur, taking in what has and has not happened up to this point. My life looks nothing like I imagined. It's vastly better than my expectations, but I know there are things still missing.
I always considered myself a creative human, and all my degrees are in the realm of science. Science?! For fucks sakes. This is coming from the girl who can't move about without listening to music and dancing, who has been writing little stories, poems, and ditties for as long as I can remember, and who used to love to act. Inhabiting people other than myself was thrilling. I'm also in love with everything that has to do with the cinema.
I love what I do, and what I've done. I'm just beginning to wonder though if I've flexed all the muscles I should have been. Is this like the tree analogy- if a tree falls in a wood and no one is there, does it make any noise? If I write or create inside of an echo chamber, does it count? Do I want to be a bodyworker the rest of my life?
Not saying I hope to become the next big actor, or some sort of nonsense as that. I don't have expectations of being a prolific Pulitzer prize winning writer. Then again, 50 shades of grey started out as self published fan fiction- so here we are. I'm saying if I never share my creative outlets, are they even really outlets?
If I don't do something soon, I'm about to quit my job, pack all my things, and move to Europe. I need to do SOMETHING. Anything.
I say this whilst I get ready for another semester of working towards my doctorate, and buying a lottery ticket each week because wouldn't it be amazing to win and maybe I'd worry less?
I've always ached though, as if there was a bit of something missing. I can't quite put my finger on what. I just know I disappear in the moments I'm allowed to create. Story telling has always been something I've enjoyed.
So what happens now?
