I know I’ve been writing a lot about the magnificence of midlife – and how I’m empowered and embracing and challenging the narrative. I’m busy sorting out the messy midlife stuff, so don’t mind me over here. How bold am I, right?
Well, get ready for a chuckle. It turns out I’m not actually going through a midlife crisis. Not at all.
I am, however, bored.
I’m bored, and I wish I could be one of those people who is happy in life with the monochrome. Not someone that is ALWAYS on the hunt for change.
My exciting days? That was when I was broke and covered in Cheez-it dust a decade ago.
I swear to you that I want nothing more but to wake up “happy today like I was yesterday and will be tomorrow.” I’d like that as much as anyone around me who’s tired of hearing me drone on about new perspectives.
But I’m so bored.
My day-to-day existence is dreary. Mind-numbing and as dull as dishwater. Less fun than watching paint dry.
And while I 1,000% fear being dirt poor and covered in Cheez-it dust again, if I stay where I am much longer I… I… I can’t even think about it without my pulse jittering around the 160 range.
So here’s the thing, I have this list. But first, there are three types of friends in the world:
1) The friend who listens to your outrageous goals responds with, “Wouldn’t that be nice? And it would be nice to hit the lottery, too.”
2) The friend responds to your outrageous goals with empty platitudes: “You can do anything you set your mind to because you’re smart and nice and kind, and look at that pretty smile.”
3) The friend responds to your excessive list of absurd ideas: “What’s first on the list?”
I’m in search of friend-type number three. If you are that friend or know someone capable of being that friend, please connect us.
I also believe there are three types of families.
Some people are raised in a military-minded family: It’s an honor to serve your country, and you should. Go forth, in the uniform, and be worthy in this life.
Some people are raised in a world-is-your-oyster family: You can be anything you want – lawyer, doctor, fireman, ballerina, movie star. Go forth and be a success, as defined by Merriam and Webster.
Some people are raised: Go to school, get a degree in something, get a job at a desk somewhere, work till your 65, collect your pension, we have pasta on Tuesdays.
I grew up in that last sort of household surrounded by friend-types one and two, which didn’t support me in setting a goal in life. It was just, “Hey, you’re born. Now you learn. Now you work, and that’s life. Welcome to it.”
I am only now realizing this, but I have been living according to universal expectations. I was never told I could create the world I wanted to live in. I was never asked what I valued out of life. It never occurred to me to cultivate what feels good – not what feels obligatory. And yes, children need to be told this at a young age. It’s how we pique their interest in wanting a life worth living (although, Cheez-it dust is toooootally worth experiencing).
I’ve lived entirely without intention. Isn’t that awful?
Everything I’ve said, thought, sold, lost, grabbed, gave away, laughed at, cried over, blew up on, coveted, failed at, cringed over, needed, wanted, clenched my fists over was all in-the-moment responses. Zero consciously choosing.
I’m late to the game, and I’m late to every flipping game. But regardless, I have a short list of absurd ideas about the life I want for myself. Other people are living the lives they dreamed of (and their dream seems similar to mine, or mine to theirs??) – so I know it’s possible. But I need that friend to whom I can tell my list and who responds, “Let’s get to work,” without commenting on my pretty smile.
So I guess this post is a wake-up call to arms (plus a plea to meet a friend-type three). I have an absurd list of things I want to happen, and I’d tell you what they are but I don’t know what category you fall in, and I can’t risk it *she said with a pretty smile.
If you message me and ask me about my list, I assume you’re friend-type three. I won’t make you sign a contract, but you must be willing to get excited over absurdity.