It will probably come as no surprise that my recent spate of gallivanting has raised a few eyebrows and there are, of course, mutterings that I am obviously going through some sort of mid-life crisis. I had, in fact, thought this myself but as the pitying looks and concerned advice seemed to indicate that this was something to be worried about and dealt with sensibly, I began to ponder more deeply on the whole issue.
According to Wikipedia, mid life crisis occurs between forty and sixty as the realisation starts to dawn that you are in fact going to drop dead one day and that the number of years left for enjoying yourself has suddenly dwindled quite significantly. So some awakened individuals start to say, hang on a minute, I have dedicated the last twenty years to bringing up my lovely kids and husband, I may not have another twenty years, I’m still fit and able so lets party! Lets write a list of all those things I’ve wanted to do but never had the time, lets stay up all night in Ibiza, lets play music loud and sing in the car even though its just sooo embarrassing, lets have a few drinks on a school night and stop picking boxer shorts up off the bathroom floor. Lets not care if I forget to put the bin out because I was too tired from watching the sun rise and lets start saying yes again to new adventures rather than no because its too much effort.
And what, may I ask, is wrong with that?
The definitions of the word Crisis are as follows: A time of intense difficulty or danger, a time when a difficult or important decision has to be made or the turning point of a disease when an important change takes place indicating either recovery or death. I particularly like this last definition, for my current conclusion is that the term should actually be applied to those NOT going through a mid life crisis, as the person supposedly going through the crisis, is actually having a whale of a time and enjoying a complete and full recovery from the relentless uphill battle of child rearing, running down the other side towards freedom with complete and utter abandon.
The real crisis, in my opinion, lies in the fact that those who are the most critical are usually the ones who are the most afraid, shuffling slowly but surely into their twilight years opting to go out with a whimper rather than a whoop.
So please don’t worry about me darlin’ I’ll take the crisis any day