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I’m Not Having a Midlife Crisis, I’m Just Embracing Life
So, I was at a mommy-and-me class the other day, surrounded by my little ones, when an older mom, let’s call her Linda, joined our group of friends who are mostly in our early thirties. As we chatted about weekend plans, one of my friends mentioned a big 30th birthday bash coming up. Linda took a deep breath and said, “You all are so young! I feel like such an old lady,” with a playful smile.
Now, Linda wasn’t really an old lady—sure, she was over 40—but I felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Here we were, enjoying our youth and freedom, while she seemed to be stuck in a different phase, hanging out with an older crowd.
But that was ages ago. Fast forward eight years, and now I’m the one on the other side of 40, watching fresh-faced moms with their babies, loading them into car seats. Time has flown by, and I can see it in the little lines on my face and in the silver strands peeking through my hair. My kids are old enough to fend for themselves, and I occasionally feel those new aches in my back. But here’s the kicker: don’t feel sorry for me! I’m having a blast, and anything that might look like a “midlife crisis” to you? Nah, it’s not that at all. Let me share a little story.
When I was nine, my dad, who we’ll call Frank, came home with a huge cowboy hat. We were living in Staten Island—known for its iconic garbage dump and amazing Italian food. Suddenly, Frank, a Brooklyn guy, was all about country music. His car was filled with Johnny Cash tapes, and he traded in his velour tracksuits for flashy cowboy shirts. The neighborhood dubbed him “Cowboy Frank,” and we all had a good laugh about what was clearly his midlife crisis.
Fast forward a few decades. Recently, I found myself jamming to hip-hop and rekindling my love for grunge music. Approaching 39, I finally got that tattoo I always wanted—actually, I got a few! I started wearing tank tops to show them off and even embraced shorter shorts in the summer. The heels came back, too, now that I’m no longer carrying a baby around. I leased a convertible (we call it the fun-mobile) and cruise down the highway blasting hip-hop tunes, living my best life.
This isn’t a cry for help or a sign of a midlife crisis, though my younger self might’ve thought so. Even my mom asked if I was alright! But really, it’s just about doing what brings me joy. Hitting middle age has given me a fresh perspective—I still feel young but realize there’s no reason to hold back on what makes me genuinely happy. I care less about what others think and have cut ties with people who don’t add value to my life. I know there’s plenty of life ahead, but it’s not infinite.
When I reflect on my dad’s cowboy phase, I see he was simply doing what made him happy, not because of his age or in spite of it. The moment you start letting go of other people’s opinions and stop wasting time on toxic relationships, that’s when the real fun begins. So, don’t feel sorry for me—I’m just getting started, and whatever you want to label my newfound joy, go ahead! I’m all about living my best life.
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In short, life is too short to hold back—embrace it, enjoy it, and don’t let age define you.