Archive for April, 2010

In two month’s time I’ll be 42. I had a discussion the other day with a friend about what constitutes being ‘middle aged’. He is nearly 60 (I think) and says that he feels he is ‘middle aged’. When I hit the big 4-0h I thought I was initiated into the club too. So that’s a pretty big time span – 40ish to 60ish is apparently ‘middle-aged’. Now when we’re talking about middle, I’m presuming there’s a beginning age (which must be from birth to forty if forty marks the end of the first age), and a… what? An ‘end age’? ‘Old age’? Things usually have a beginning, a middle and an end, so… I dunno. Anyway, I’m waffling here, and I’ve nearly forgotten what this post was going to be all about.

Oh, yeah. That’s right – I was going to talk about this feeling I’ve had lately, since becoming ‘middle aged’. Maybe I’m just weird, or maybe everyone secretly goes through this. I distinctly remember, as a kid, thinking about how old I’d be when the year 2000 came around. Thirty two – that seemed so ancient, but also so far away. I also remember having a feeling of ‘it won’t happen to me’ – ah… that wonderful, youthful invincibility. I would never get old, wrinkly, fat, grey haired – all that happened to others, and was so far away from me that it just seemed inconceivable.

But it did happen to me. Here I am, nearly 42, with my silver hairs creeping through my scalp despite my best efforsts with hair dye, frown lines between my eyes which make me look eternally crabby, a flabby belly which has gone through too many pregnancies and too much chocolate and iced coffee. All that is a physical sign that I’m ‘middle aged’, but the sign that has really disturbed me has just emerged lately – the mental signs, the feeling of time ticking on, speeding up. The feeling that I’d better get on with things because I’ve reached the top of the hill and I’m about to topple over it and the roll back down is going to be fast and uncomfortable.

Maybe I’m just feeling it more now because I really don’t feel as though I’ve achieved whatever it is that I’m meant to achieve. The clock is ticking, and yet I’m still feeling unfulfilled and unsuccessful. I can totally see why people have a ‘mid-life crisis’. No, I don’t want the stereotypical sports car, or to run off with a ‘younger model’. I just want to feel as though the forty odd years I’ve been on this planet counts for something. Am I alone in feeling this, or is this what turning forty is all about?