Midlife Unravelled
6 minute read
I was in my early twenties when I first saw the movie American Beauty, Sam Mendes’s diorama of American suburban discord that documented the white-collar protagonist Lester Burnham and his slide into a midlife crisis. It was refreshingly grown-up, a touch sinister and, at times, witty. It left a lasting impression on me: beware midlife – it brings disruption, apathy and fragility, and how pretty plastic bags are blowing in the wind to a melancholic soundtrack (if caught on camera by a professional).
Fast forward a few years and I realise that yes, while some of us do wobble through midlife, Lester Burnham and his fascination with sports cars and his teenage daughter’s friend was a stereotype that very rarely rings true. Call it midlife malaise or a slump, there’s no denying it can be a vulnerable time fraught with transitions but it’s often just that: a transition and not a crisis. A crisis is a time of great difficulty or danger that can be managed – I don’t think midlife can be defined so simply within that box. As Brené Brown points out, midlife is an unravelling, a pathway of challenges not so easily managed or controlled, a period of self-introspection and exploration, even though at moments it feels as though you’re at sea, fighting the waves and sometimes drowning.
As early as the twentieth-century psychiatrists such as Carl Jung were exploring the problems with middle age. Jung argued that life was a game of two halves, the first half about achievements such as building a home and career, and the latter about becoming whole. The term ‘midlife crisis’ was coined by the psychoanalyst Elliot Jaques in 1965 to describe the period of life where adults tend to ‘reckon with their mortality’ and even though psychologists found no basis for the phenomenon it stuck, namely because the burdens of life fall on the middle-aged. We are looking after our children, parents and ourselves and life feels busier, loaded with extra tasks and responsibilities.
Up to our 40s, anything is possible, even if we don’t decide to act upon those possibilities. Midlife takes away that option and replaces it with doubt, so instead of thinking ‘I could run the company if I wanted to or, I could run a marathon if I chose to’, it’s replaced with ‘maybe I’m not as smart or as fit as I was’ and this challenges our sense of competence and safety. We become acutely aware that time is growing short which often sends us into a panic-stricken angst to improve ourselves, our careers and anything else that might be flailing. People (often men) reach for the quick-fix solution: the exciting affair or the canary yellow Lamborghini that delivers an artificial high, leaving you less fulfilled in the end.
Women have their own version of this invisible line to manoeuvre. The independent effect of ageing is enough of a catalyst: we’re grappling with chin hair, back cellulite, fluctuating hormones and insomnia. A defining moment for me was when my daughter saw me clearing old CDs into a box and asked me what they were. When I held up an Arctic Monkeys disc in shock I realised they’d formed 20 years ago. I’m actually surprised I even remembered their name since a clear sign of getting old is not having a clue who any of the ‘latest’ bands are. I’m also developing the knees of a 90-year-old and ‘laughter lines’ which are, quite frankly, just not funny anymore.
Once upon a time, the old adage ‘life begins at 40’ meant we could take our foot off the pedal but the truth is, nowadays most of us fortysomethings are nowhere near our victory laps. It can be a scary time juggling all that life throws. We’re struggling to manage while also facing our finiteness which gets thrust into the spotlight when we experience health issues, changes or lose a loved one. The result is an impulse to create more meaning in our lives. I think Robbie Coltrane put it best when he said: “It’s the fear that you’re past your best.” But it’s just that, fear.
Midlife is not a sudden occurrence, it’s a gradual, natural unravelling, sometimes a series of painful nudges, of quiet or noisy anxiety, of loss of control but it is a space we shouldn’t be afraid of, one between childhood and old age that allows us to reassess.
We can take our foot off the pedal, we can readjust our goals, make peace with our past. We can ask ourselves important questions: What are my values? What gives my life meaning? What do I need? We can meet our true selves and take the time to figure out the next chapter. Scientists have discovered a U-shaped happiness curve – apparently, life satisfaction falls in our 20s and 30s, hits a trough in our 40s and then rises until our 80s. Contrary to the popular view that youth is the best time in life, findings suggest that the peak of emotional life may not occur until well into our seventh decade. So, the best is yet to come. They also discovered the midlife slump is often about nothing but simply a normal dip in life that generally doesn’t last, petering out when we realise that most of us are reacting to the boredom of routine, are pursuing the wrong dreams and that our lives are just fine as they are.
Our happiness index takes a U-turn out of our 50s when we come to realise this and we don’t feel the need to tick boxes anymore or race to stay on the same achievement trajectory. Unlike our parents’ generation, we are giving ourselves permission to try new things. When I was 20, I saw my 45-year-old self as much older than I actually feel. I’m not sure why but in my head I wore slippers, drank sherry and wheeled a dessert trolley around (it was the 80s). While nothing can prepare you for the juggle of parenting, a career and a home, I also feel a sense of vibrancy and engagement.
The term midlife crisis should, in my opinion, be redefined to that of a midlife reflection.
Midlife can be tough, but it’s not final, just unfinished business. We’re allowed our American Beauty moments, we are allowed to switch lanes, we are the change that we seek. I’m not sure I’ll still feel the same way at 50 but I’m taking a leaf out of centenarian Iris Apfel’s well-read and beautifully preserved book that proves age really is just a number… the best is yet to come.
Orla Neligan, November 2021
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