Surviving midlife

Something strange is happening to me.

Snatches of songs of some 15 - 20 years ago have been humming in my brain.

"Sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much, and I want to close my eyes and hide"
or
"I want to hold you till I die, until we dont break down and cry, I want to hold you till my fear in me subsides..."

Memories of people I once loved, or shared an uncommon communication with, flash back. I wonder who they are now?.

At times likes these, I feel I am stuck in some time warp - re-living the songs I loved some years back when I was younger with the flush of youth.
I think I am in the throes of midlife transition!

At the cusp of 40, my soul is telling me to stop and take stock. To trace back the pattern of my life to this point. To ponder life’s eternal verities. To be true to myself. And be prepared for the next phase of my human odyssey by next year, this time.

I dint realise until now, that midlife is indeed one of the major transitions in life. Until now, I had only heard of some of my older near and dear ones complain / explain this phenomenon.

I have been given to understand that if one does not navigate this period well, then we set ourselves for a miserable and disappointed old age.

Birth marked the first major phase of life’s passage. Adolescence came next, when I for one turned from a sweet kid into a door-banging, rebellious monster (my parents will testify).

And now I am at the threshold of midlife – as I now transit from youth into the second phase of life. This usually, by the way, takes place in the late 30s to late 50s (lest you think am on the wrong side of some other decade!)

And ofcourse, my last passage would be the end of my life, when I prepare for the final journey to death (which also can happen anytime, anywhere - beyond my control :)

Is this really the time to accept that we are beginning to age? The body starts telling you in no uncertain terms, anyways – what with a slightly weaker eyesight; slightly more grey hair; a slightly heavier frame – making one wonder if one is also less attractive now. What with late nights no longer giving an adrenaline charge and a headache from a late night that could last for days!

Sigh!

Eminent psychologist, Carl Jung’s theory is that in midlife, psychological needs repressed through ones growing up years force their way up to the surface of the conscious. (No wonder am so crabby these days)

So if you had always wanted to be, lets say, a mountaineer but got sucked into making a living for yourself and the people dependent on you, then you may find yourself in your 40s and 50s valiantly attempting to scale Everest.

Some people respond to the fears of ageing by aggressive denials. This is what lies behind middle-aged men’s sudden penchants for sweet young things, racy cars and flashy clothes – trying to re-create their swinging youth! (uff these men will never learn)

Guys, denial only postpones the moment reckoning. Imagine its like eating lots of garlic and then try to hide it with mouthwash. That odour just oozes out of your pores, thus making you smellier and messier :) :) :)

I am trying to face upto myself now-a-days – trying to reflect through the layers of time, through the masks donned over the years, to a place where I am most myself - all this through lofty dreams and success, through failure and rejection, lost illusions and shattered hopes.

I think I am getting more and more determined to live some of my dreams and choose to relinquish others. A self discovery; a process of self integration – with strands from who I was to who I have become to who I will be.

My life’s choices, so far – my Achilles heels – that caused me to stumble and land up being unfullfilled until now – to some of my angel props (my parents and best friends), my tools through difficulties. I have stifled through wilderness – but with some elation that I lived by my principles.

And most of all, to my surprise and wonder, through the sadness of lost dreams and broken heart and missed opportunities – and now the elation of discovery that all may not still be lost - through it all, a sense that, at the cusp of 40, I am (hopefully) returning home, to who I am meant to be.