After much thought and deliberation today, I’ve changed my mind and I don’t care that I’m not perfect.
Screw it and the horse that middle age road in on
I WANT TO BE YOUNG AGAIN.
Actually, this came to me after I received a call from a friend (yes, you, you know who you are) who told me she was worried about me (and what is going on in my head) after my failure post today. In explaining myself to that nosy parker, it came to me as clear as a bell. I am pissed that I can’t wear those shoes because I am getting too old to wear them. I am pissed that I’m broke now because I am too old to be this poor and I’ve worked hard and got myself an education and I’m a professional person and I’m too old to be this broke.
Possibly the vision and goals that I had for myself in middle age had nothing to do with being happily married and everything to do with not being poor.
I’m thinking my dreams for myself were of fabulousness
(I recognize the shallowness of that statement, just keepin it real)
I am SO having a midlife crisis.
Yes, I admit it. I am a statistic big time.
I remember very clearly the day it hit me that I was old and there was no going back. It was on my 44th birthday and I was sitting at a club pool checking out the lifeguards behind my sunglasses.
They were so cute, probably 20 y.o. and were flirting with the young female lifeguards who where in their red bathing suits with their boobs still high up where they are supposed to be.
I was so jealous. I wanted to have fun like that again.
And it occurred to me (because, don’t we all think this way)
if I were cast in a movie, I would not be the love interest of the lifeguard or
even one of her friends, I would be the MOTHER.
And that not one of those boys would notice me unless I was at the bottom of the pool.
And that, my friends, is fuckery.
That was also the exact day that I realized that I was not happy and that I was unfulfilled in my marriage. I started to get more vocal in my unhappiness to Stanley and we all know where that leads. In my case, to marriage counseling and mediation.
People say, “I wouldn’t go back to my twenties for anything!”
And I am thinking,
“I would! Sign me up for the time machine and lock me in that bitch!”
Even if I went back with no additional knowledge of how my
choices would turn out. I would still go back.
Because I truly hate this shit.
Midlife Crisis City.
In my work with my patients I am always trying to get them to reframe their negative thoughts into more positive ones that are more tolerable to them. These are sure as heck some negative thoughts. So here I go:
(but I am doing it in a high whiny voice that reeks of insincerity)
I’m older and I’m single and I’m broke, but at least I’m not married anymore to the most boring man on the planet and unhappily married and now I can embrace the freedom of being able to make the next part of my life into whatever I want it to be and realize all of my personal goals.
Yeah. Whatever. It is still fuckery.