Stubborn greys, weakening eyesight and an intolerance for idiots is how I know that I am reaching the mid point of my life or what others call middle age. Not to mention teeth that are self-destructive, memory that is fading and did I mention an attitude that seems more and more indifferent about other people's opinions?
I hate the term middle-age. Youth is fine, even old is a bearable term, but middle-age is like you are someone who is old, but clinging to the lost glory of youth.It is youth on accelerated decay . It is pathos personified. You can be graceful in your old age, accept that you are past your prime, but letting go of your prime age, and shifting gears to being called a senior is not easy. And rightly so. We are geared to admire youth. The period between mid-forties to sixties is the treachorous zone. The in-betweens similar to teens or tweens . I would rather that we call ourselves mature adults or seasoned adults, seems more like we are in terms of our reality and somehow seems less deragatory than middle-age.
It starts with a few gray, it starts when you look into the mirror and notice fine lines where there were none. And the realization sets in when you meet people you haven't met in ages, people you knew in college, looking all "middle-aged". You go home, look at your pictures from 10 years ago and viola the enlightment sets in that it is that phase of the life again. The awkward phase. To dye or not to dye phase. To change your beauty routine to more "matured skin" cream phase. Don't even get me started on the effects on the body .
The changes are subtle. Even conversations shift from movies and books to more of what medication are you taking for hypertension to eating healthy. The first sign that you are past prime is when you are obsessed with health and regimes that make you younger. I find myself being more attracted towards articles titled 5 steps to younger skin articles,Foods that lower your blood pressure and what to do when you have a stroke. I resist to succumb to the attraction of just letting go. I resist not being relevant or being a"has been" . I resist talking about the good old days -and nothing personifies the epic struggle to pull away from the magnetic attraction of youth more than my attempts to still keep myself relevant in terms of pop-culture. I try but lately I have found that the effort is catching up with me. I am moving to the other side of the spectrum soon. Old age is winning this tug of war.
Then you have the mid-life crisis. The rebellious phase or maybe a self-realization phase where you actually understand that when they said life was short, they really meant it. One fine morning it clicks that the life you had been leading so far,was more for others. You look back, some regrets, some satisfying proud moments, some sad and heart wrenching moments, you have been through it all. You are a survivor. You also start getting news of people you know or friends of people you know dropping dead. And it hits you. You are half-way there and you had better enjoy life on your terms, because you are not getting out alive. You are on this roller coaster going downhill, full speed. You have the choice, you can scream your lungs out and enjoy the ride or just wait in trepidition for the ride to be over. Mid-life crisis should be termed Mid-life enlightment. I find this to be the age of lost realization. I realize that my prime was spent in raising kids and taking care of the family, Not that I regret it, but it does seem like I have now woken up from a long slumber of building a family, and now that I am awake, I have in many ways no idea how to live life for myself. My body is not only past its prime, my mind is sort of lost too. The desire to discover who I am without the taglines of relationships, without labels is intense. And that is the gist of "crisis"
Now when I look in the mirror, I realize that this is probably the best I will look ever, at least the youngest I will ever be. I am learning to accept that even if middle age is messy and hormonal, even if it is ambigious in its scope, I am a mature adult,on the threshold to be I actually admitted loudly what I knew long ago, that I couldn't compete with the youngsters. There I have admitted it.
I hate the term middle-age. Youth is fine, even old is a bearable term, but middle-age is like you are someone who is old, but clinging to the lost glory of youth.It is youth on accelerated decay . It is pathos personified. You can be graceful in your old age, accept that you are past your prime, but letting go of your prime age, and shifting gears to being called a senior is not easy. And rightly so. We are geared to admire youth. The period between mid-forties to sixties is the treachorous zone. The in-betweens similar to teens or tweens . I would rather that we call ourselves mature adults or seasoned adults, seems more like we are in terms of our reality and somehow seems less deragatory than middle-age.
It starts with a few gray, it starts when you look into the mirror and notice fine lines where there were none. And the realization sets in when you meet people you haven't met in ages, people you knew in college, looking all "middle-aged". You go home, look at your pictures from 10 years ago and viola the enlightment sets in that it is that phase of the life again. The awkward phase. To dye or not to dye phase. To change your beauty routine to more "matured skin" cream phase. Don't even get me started on the effects on the body .
The changes are subtle. Even conversations shift from movies and books to more of what medication are you taking for hypertension to eating healthy. The first sign that you are past prime is when you are obsessed with health and regimes that make you younger. I find myself being more attracted towards articles titled 5 steps to younger skin articles,Foods that lower your blood pressure and what to do when you have a stroke. I resist to succumb to the attraction of just letting go. I resist not being relevant or being a"has been" . I resist talking about the good old days -and nothing personifies the epic struggle to pull away from the magnetic attraction of youth more than my attempts to still keep myself relevant in terms of pop-culture. I try but lately I have found that the effort is catching up with me. I am moving to the other side of the spectrum soon. Old age is winning this tug of war.
Then you have the mid-life crisis. The rebellious phase or maybe a self-realization phase where you actually understand that when they said life was short, they really meant it. One fine morning it clicks that the life you had been leading so far,was more for others. You look back, some regrets, some satisfying proud moments, some sad and heart wrenching moments, you have been through it all. You are a survivor. You also start getting news of people you know or friends of people you know dropping dead. And it hits you. You are half-way there and you had better enjoy life on your terms, because you are not getting out alive. You are on this roller coaster going downhill, full speed. You have the choice, you can scream your lungs out and enjoy the ride or just wait in trepidition for the ride to be over. Mid-life crisis should be termed Mid-life enlightment. I find this to be the age of lost realization. I realize that my prime was spent in raising kids and taking care of the family, Not that I regret it, but it does seem like I have now woken up from a long slumber of building a family, and now that I am awake, I have in many ways no idea how to live life for myself. My body is not only past its prime, my mind is sort of lost too. The desire to discover who I am without the taglines of relationships, without labels is intense. And that is the gist of "crisis"
Now when I look in the mirror, I realize that this is probably the best I will look ever, at least the youngest I will ever be. I am learning to accept that even if middle age is messy and hormonal, even if it is ambigious in its scope, I am a mature adult,on the threshold to be I actually admitted loudly what I knew long ago, that I couldn't compete with the youngsters. There I have admitted it.
