We all know the stereotypical, worn cliche of a male midlife crisis. The gold jewelry, the convertible, the new wife. Ick. So not me.
However, I am coming to the realization that I am likely in the midst of some sort of feminine mid-life crisis. As I commute each day, I find myself asking, wondering, "Huh. What now?" over and over and over again.
Until recently, I thought my "What now?" answer was just, "More of the same". I thought we'd be adding to our family by adoption. Therefore, I knew (well, in as much as one can know anything) what life would look like and what my priorities would be and how my days would be spent.
Now? Not so much.
And I'm freakin'.
I do not want to retire (yet). I do not want to golf (ever). I do not want to join book club, collect cats or wear a purple dress and red hat (wait? is that last one true?---yep). I do not want to get thick(er) in the middle. I do not want to be depressed and mournful.
I..I...I...aye yi yi. I dunno.
For the FIRST TIME since I was 18, I do not know what's next. I don't have a plan. I don't have a clearly defined, easily identifiable reason for getting up in the AM.
Youthful exuberance? Marriage? Grad school? Career? Debt? SingleMomSurvival? Parenting? Paychecks? All of these have been pretty dadgum good reasons to be up and about.
But now? How 'bout now?
Well, I have no earthly idea. And that exhilarates me.
When it's not scaring the shiitake outta me.