This past week, I was a bit on the ugly side – inside.
I can blame it on a sick kid or cancelled holiday plans or no money to go shopping on Friday (I know, wahhhh.), but the truth is that I was just an ugly, grumpy, negative mess.
I tried to hide it and only feel bad on the inside, but it didn’t work, not a bit. The ugliness eeked out in things I said, my actions, the look on my long face.
I was in total pity party mode. The fact that there wasn’t any chocolate at my party made me all the more miserable.
Then my son said I was middle-aged. My mother told me this before, but I completely ignored her. I figured she just wanted company at the top of the ladder. When I heard my son say it, I realized that is how everyone younger than me views my age, my life, me – in the middle of it all.
That’s a downright scary place to be. Just ask a middle child.
I’ve done the whole starting out thing. I went to college, got a job, got married, bought a house, had a couple of kids, went back to college, bought another house or two, celebrated fifteen years of marriage…the rest is the ordinary day in day out. The stuff I write about here on my blog.
Is it enough? Have I done enough, been enough?
I don’t think so. That’s the problem. I don’t feel like my life has been worth enough yet.
Cue up mid-life crisis mode.
If you’re a therapist, add me to your contacts.
I reviewed my life in my head, over and over again. I talked to myself. It’s the worse thing a person can do. Some call it self-talking. It’s what you do to make your blood boil. Tell yourself all the ways you have failed, all the things you should have done, could have done.
I reminded myself of what a loser I am. Then I counted all the wasted minutes.
It’s not a good place to be and I know that. I know every conversation I had in my head was pointless. No good would come of it. I know that and yet I did it anyway. That’s the real definition of stupid.
After I tired of talking to myself, I talked to God.
Actually, I complained. Like a total whiner. If I were Him, I would have shoved a sock in my mouth, but unlike us, God is long suffering and full of grace. I made Him suffer with my rantings.
Every time I saw someone’s list of “Thanks”, I wanted to barf. It convicted me, and I totally wanted to be justified in my self-loathing. Honestly, it’s kind of funny to me now, but it was not three days ago.
My heart was black as a starless night.
After I felt like God was getting sick of me, I played shrink with myself. Let’s face it. I know all the “right” answers. I can counsel someone stuck in the rut of stinkin’ thinking, so I turned myself loose on myself.
Ya, I can drone on and on. Before long, I was sick of both my personalities – the depressed one and the wannabe shrink.
I generally do not get into these funks for more than a few hours, if at all. It’s not my default mode, but this week I set a new record. I think I kept up the stinkin’ attitude for 3 or 4 days. By choice.
The truth is that I am blessed beyond measure. I have a husband who loves me, two amazing kids, a home, family and friends, and so much more. My mistake is that I stopped counting my blessings.
Yes, I am over it. I don’t know if I’m beyond the whole mid-life crisis thing yet, but I’m over the pity party.
After all, I still have half my life left. Now I better get busy!
Have you had your mid-life crisis yet?