Midlife-Cri-sis

It's been a year. 

 I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me. 

 The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar. 

 There have a been a lot of losses or near losses.  Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this.  More times than not, I need that deep breath.

I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it.  47.  My children are nearly grown.  My house is established.  Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things.  I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without.  

I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this?  

For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  It's about re-writing our story.  Living our very best lives by deliberate and brave choices.  Every page, every word, every idea jumped out at me.  Not because I'm not living a full life, but I think I am living a safe life.  

I am afraid of so many things.  I am afraid to trust my writing.  I am afraid I am a bad mother.  I am afraid that I am friends with people for all the wrong reasons.  I am afraid that I lie so that I don't hurt people's feelings.  I am afraid that I'll never do what I dream of doing . .. but even more . . . I'm afraid I don't really know what I dream of doing.

So lately, I've been trying to splice that out--what are my dreams?  

Back up, what is a dream?

It's not a goal.

It's not an aspiration.

It's a thing that seems impossible and improbably and possibly unattainable . . . and yet, we want it.  Badly.

I've been letting these impossible wants surface . .. emerging from deep inside my heart and belly. . . and as they bubble up, I feel lighter.  I feel younger.  I feel vivid . . . alive . .. real.  

Here they are, as impossible and improbably as can be (in no particular order):

Hike the Appalachian Trail from Maine to Connecticut--hitting all the presidential range

Publish all three of my books--not because they will sell a million copies (though that would be nice), but because I feel proud of them and feel like they are actually mine.  It's so easy to lose your voice in the editing process . . . I don't want to.  Even if it means only a small group will ever read it.

Go on a Safari in Africa

See the northern lights in Norway or Iceland

Stay married (yeah, it's on the list)

Know the face of God

Say yes as often and as loudly as possible

Hike across Scotland 

Make a pilgrimage to India, a slow one, doing lots of yoga and eating lots of food

Have dinner with my littles every night

Visit the ruins in Mexico 

See where my parents lived in Australia 

Travel with my brother Joseph

Hug people and put all the love I feel for them into that hug

Be present, be in that moment--not looking for the next moment

Forgive myself.

Every time I write these, and now, reading them, I cry.  I cry because they don't seem that hard and yet, they seem impossible.

Life's too short for impossible.

I bought two books about hiking the Appalachian trial.  I already have a backpack.  

In a month John and I are going to Norway (fingers crossed the northern lights are part of it).  

When I read/edit my book, I let myself believe in it.  I let myself cut off the fat, but keep the things I love. It might make it weaker, but oh, it makes me happy.

I printed out a bunch of new recipes.  

I am texting my brother, giving him ideas for trips we can go on.  One day, he'll reply.  

My sister-in-law said we can go with them to Mexico (even if John and the kids don't want to . . . I'm going).  

If I'm going to meet up with friends, I don't schedule anything for two hours after, so if they want to talk, I'll be there.  

When I wake up each morning, I pray not for all the things I need or my family needs (that's my nighttime prayer), but that I'll be open so that I can help where help is needed.  I pray that I'll capture His vision of the world and the people in it.  I feel the shift.  I see more beauty in the day, in the world, in the perfection of the human life than I ever have.

I also am hideous and short tempered and jealous and mean and rude and forgetful and don't do what I should.  But I'm learning to accept that about me too.  I forgive myself each night.  In forgiving myself, forgiveness becomes so much easier.  

I've decided since what I've been eating doesn't taste good, it's time to cook something new. 

Last night it was nutmeg donuts we shared with the neighborhood. 

It's time to try something new in my life too.  

Dang it, it's time for the second half of my life to begin.