Maybe it was a midlife crisis. A year ago, my husband and I took the family on vacation and simply never returned. At least that’s how it feels. We sold our cookie-cutter subdivision home in the city, quit both of our jobs with no guarantee of future gainful employment (I’m still wondering how the mortgage loan went through under such circumstances), moved across state lines and into a modest lake house being sold by a friend of a friend. We always wanted a lake house but never thought we’d actually be able to afford one of our own. This was probably a once-in-a-lifetime chance! We could seize the opportunity now and leave our safe and carefully constructed harbor for, literally, unknown waters with no idea if we would sink or swim, or we could let it pass by and continue with life as we’d known it.
My hubby is a forty-something like me. We’ve been a couple since 1996, when we were both young and beautiful and free. We had grown a wonderful life together up until this point, but we were no longer any of those things. And it was starting to show, on our bodies and in our spirit. My husband had been a displaced Michigander, working laboriously to help support his family for the past 20 years. He’s got lake blood in his veins (kinda like tiger blood but calmer and without the drug-fueled crazy) and most ills he has in life can be cured with a fishing pole in hand. But there was no space for that in the life we’d built. Along with our own competing work schedules, the kids were always busy with band, baseball, taekwondo, or some other such thing, which meant we parents were always busy with one activity or another. I would watch him day after day come home grouchy from work and head straight to the recliner, exhausted. The gusto was gone.
On the other hand, I was doing so wonderfully that I’d developed a panic disorder. My biggest trigger was driving, which was extremely convenient. But I’m no one-trick pony, mind you! I could also suddenly panic in a store, at work, in a crowd, while alone, and even in my own home. I was functional (most people probably wouldn’t notice that it was taking all I had just to breath in rhythm and not flee from the room) but worried that if things kept on this path, someday I might not be.
Aside: I remember being so proud one Mother’s Day my daughter made me this lovely storybook “All About Mom.” One page said, “My mom likes to read!” I thought what a great example I was setting by modeling reading to my children! I looked closer at the titles of the books on the page she had drawn: Overcoming Anxiety!, How to Cope with Panic Attacks! Your children will humble you. Oh, yes, they will humble you.
At this point, we’d been 15 years into our “starter home” that we’d initially only planned to keep for three to five years. It was a fine home, to which we’d done pretty much every major and most minor renovations possible over the years, and the only home our kids had ever known. Every corner was a memory. Anyone who has left not just a house, but a home, knows it’s not an easy decision. You know your heart will break when that door closes. We drove ourselves silly weighing pros and cons and trying to decipher every possible outcome of what life might be like were we to stay versus if we were to go, along with prayer – lots of prayer – for direction. While we had a chance to achieve a dream of living on a lake, it meant giving up stable employment with good benefits, displacing our kids from their schools and friends, leaving our Ohio family and our own friends, and starting completely anew. Only now we’re older and want to be in bed by 10:00 p.m.
My husband and I had the discussion, “On your deathbed, would you be okay knowing you had this chance and never took it?” In the end, that was it. We were going to throw caution and responsibility to the wind, and we were going for it! We earnestly hoped and fervently prayed it would be a good decision for everyone, but admittedly, it was ultimately for my husband, and it was for me.
Those first few weeks in the home were, first of all, a lot of work. I never want to see a paintbrush again! But it was also like flying, and falling, and flying up again, and not knowing if up ahead was a gentle landing or a free fall. It was an adventure! I felt like the heroine in Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On A Prayer”! I wore my hair up, walked around sans makeup and shoes, listening to loud music out of a boombox that the previous owner left behind. I swam in the lake, kayaked for the first of many times, and sat in a hot tub sipping on Coronas or wine. I really had no clue what the next year was going to bring, good or bad, but I fully released myself to the fact I didn’t have much control over the matter at this point, and we really never do in life anyway. I floated along and let any sadness or grief I’d been storing up mix with any peace and joy and hope I had still within me without judgment and, sometimes, without much thought at all. There was a kind of magic, a refreshing feeling that whispered, “You are young and beautiful and free. Still.”
A year later, things are looking promising. For one, we haven’t been foreclosed on yet! I am now among the ranks of the self-employed (another new adventure, more to come on that in a future blog) which has allowed me to support the family and have much less stress and less panic. The hubby still enjoys his recliner daily, but the call of the lake just past our back yard puts a renewed spring in his step. He smiles more. The kids are adjusting and seem to be happy. A happy teenager can be elusive, but it’s a wonderful thing when you catch sight of it. Teens experience their own kind of crisis; the “coming of age crisis”, perhaps?
If midlife crises do exist, maybe it’s a preemptive strike against possible regrets, knowing that you – that I – have a finite time on this earth, and the clock is ticking. And then taking chances! Even if it means doing something completely out of character for your previous self. It’s going to vary from person to person. For me, there was no brightly-colored convertible sports car involved. Instead, I traded life as I knew it in for a simpler one. Less is the new more. The beauty of the lake and her creatures within and near makes everyday different, everyday beautiful, and I’m so glad I got this chance and that I took it, for however long it lasts.
Maybe while in the throes of midlife is not the best time to veer abruptly off the course you’ve faithfully tread for roundabout 20 years. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the perfect time.