Mid-Life Crisis

I have not gone under the knife or filed for divorce or joined a cult - yet. Nonetheless, I think it has officially hit.  A crisis, just like all those in the middle of their lives.  I will be forty-two in January.  So far, what that means is the following: 1) weaning my daughter so I can abandon my family for three glorious days in wilds Cabo with a group of women friends (this is so unlike me, truly….); 2) shelling out a good chunk of change for a new editing system so that I can get back to filmmaking despite a significant hiatus for motherhood; 3) joining “ww” (weight watchers!) and taking up running again so that I can shed the last 15 pounds since my second pregnancy (and feel like I’m 39 again!), even when I’m weighing in with 70 year-old women in a church library; 4) letting go of an abundance of guilt, which somehow has allowed me to ask for what I want, including kindness in my own home; 5) cutting my hair way too short yet again and probably investing in some highlights.  

Yes, I am thinking about my life: my marriage, my independence, my womanliness, my children, my work-life-motherhood-creative-outlet-exercise-healthy-living-brain-how does it all balance out-human potential-earning-potential-what will they put on my tombstone; how and when will I die?; is there a god I’ve been ignoring? - the whole shebang, as much as I can with a 2 year-old and 5 year-old underfoot - with a kind of scattered, lying in bed at night, in-and-out of dream state focus, which is to say that this is the first time I’ve really put my thoughts together and come up with a (self) diagnosis.  

Oh, and we bought a mini-van - a car we hemmed and hawed about for many months.  It seemed like such a point of no return - the end of youth - the beginning of mediocrity.  An ugly car for an ugly life.  But it really is none of that.  It’s just darn comfortable and convenient.  And it kind of goes with the new me…