Midlife Crisis Narrative

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I am like a timer with only half of its sand left. And it’s absolutely terrifying. Yesterday, it felt as if I was twenty-five and thought that everything was figured out. I was young and naive, and held so much hope for the world. Last night, I was thirty-seven, all hunkered down and ready to live for the long haul. This morning, I’m at the halfway point of my metaphorical marathon. And it feels like I’m hitting yet another wall. I feel the term ‘midlife crisis’ is a hyperbole. I have yet to go off to some foreign place with a twenty year old man on my arm. Although, I heard South Africa is beautiful. The cape towns, and the mountains and the animals. It would be a perfect place to get away. Get away from the wall blocking my way, the two …show more content…

A cherry red convertible from some European brand I’ve never heard of. Driving off into a sunset instead of into a clinic to talk to my doctor about rheumatoid arthritis. Driving off with that twenty year old on my arm, his sunglass-clad eyes facing the horizon as we talk about politics and music and life. We’d drive back in time to when I was his age as well. I don’t believe it’s the midlife crisis I’m struggling with. I believe that I’m struggling with the fact that me being at the midpoint of my life is truly true. I would love to just be able to run off and away, to cause the whispers and murmurs between women in the middle of the cereal aisle. I want everyone to bear witness to me and my two blue candles. Yet, that isn’t really possible. I am in great need to focus on the midlife part of the phrase; focus on living it. I’m going to get out of my bed and go down the cold steps to my kitchen. The room where my family is waiting with a stack of pancakes, two blue waxy fours speared through the top— their white wicks waiting to start life while I’m waiting for it stop and slow down. I’m going to go into my kitchen and stare into the colored wax dots spread about the candles, letting a breath wail out like a cry, vanquishing

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