Maybe the Midlife Crisis Was Actually the Midlife Awakening

It’s strange how one day you wake up and realize the haze is beginning to lift.

Not all at once. There was no lightning bolt, no dramatic moment where I suddenly figured out the meaning of life.

It happened slowly.

I had spent my whole life looking after other people, and somewhere along the way, I became excited about the idea of looking after me.

Imagine that.

Little things started happening.

Having coffee in bed by myself.

Blogging my therapy—not for anyone else, but for me.

Not even rising until 10 some mornings and realizing the world somehow managed to continue spinning without me.

When did this happen?

I think my inner self knew before I did.

It was as though some part of me finally looked at my tired, withered body and soul and said, Okay, girl. I’ve got you now.

And she wrapped her arms around me.

She started teaching me how to slow down.

How to take a walk with just one dog because walking two was stressful, but walking one meant I could actually breathe.

And I mean breathe.

I could feel that crisp, cold Alberta air filling my lungs in a way I don't think I had ever noticed before. I could breathe it deep into my soul instead of rushing through another thing that needed to be done.

Then other things started changing.

Things I once thought were taboo suddenly brought me joy.

Tattoos.

Tattoos that mean something to me. Not anyone else. They don't require an explanation or anyone's approval. They're mine.

And then there is my name.

I am taking a name I am not yet familiar with.

It belongs to me, but I don't know her yet.

And strangely, I love that.

Because I am removing a name that never really belonged to me in the first place.

It was the name my abuser branded onto me—part his name and part mine. Every time someone used it, it felt like another tiny slice into my soul.

But the truth is, it wasn't my name.

It was always his.

So now I am taking it off.

Like an old coat I have worn far too long, I am finally sliding it from my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

And I'm choosing a new one.

A much more fashion-forward coat, obviously.

One that I get to create around my personality instead of squeezing myself into something somebody else chose for me.

Maybe that's what all of this is.

I spent so many hours of my life worrying about other people's perception of me.

Do they like me?

Do they approve?

Do I fit in?

Did I say the wrong thing?

What are they going to think?

Meanwhile, not one of those people walked my path.

So what right did they have to sit in their righteous little seats judging how I survived it?

And the beautiful thing is…

I don't care anymore.

I am no longer that desperate person trying to squeeze herself into other people's lives.

I don't care about your fancy house or your glass walls.

Come over to mine and take some dog hair home with you.

Don't worry. I have a lint brush you can use.

My life isn't about impressing other people anymore.

It's about actually living it.

If I don't want to get dressed, I don't have to.

If I want to dance through an airport with my grandson, I will.

Don't like my singing?

Don't listen.

One of the funniest parts of all of this is watching people look at you like something must be wrong.

What's gotten into her?

Nothing.

That's the point.

For the first time, something has gotten out of me.

Fear.

Shame.

The desperate need for approval.

The belief that I have to behave according to somebody else's definition of what a woman my age is supposed to look like.

Life finally clicked.

I get it.

And yes, I'm going to be selfish.

Maybe gloriously selfish.

Because I am going to live some of the childhood that was robbed from me.

I will dance in the streets.

I will wear the funny hats.

I will embarrass my peeps.

I will laugh too loudly.

I will do ridiculous things simply because they make me happy.

And most importantly, I will nourish my soul.

I will no longer tolerate people attempting to intimidate me.

I will not allow someone to bring shame to me for who I am.

And I sure as hell won't let someone tell my story through their pristine lips as though they were there.

Fuck you all.

There. I said it.

This is my life.

I will zip-line through the jungle.

I will embrace as many elephants as I choose.

I will spend my time with people who are worth my time—the ones who invest in me as much as I invest in them.

I will do it scared.

And I may have to take Declan on some of these adventures so we can do it scared together.

But we're going.

Because I am done waiting.

I am no longer waiting to fit into other people's lives.

Can't get your shit together fast enough?

I'll leave you behind.

Can't make room for me?

That's okay.

I'll find my own seat in my own room.

Don't want to speak to me with kindness?

That's okay too.

I'll put on my headphones and dance to my own music.

Because these wings are spreading.

And for the first time in my life, I'm the pilot.

I'm sure there will be moments when I'm screaming MAYDAY as my little plane comes crashing toward the ground.

There will be storms.

There will be turbulence.

There will probably be a few spectacularly bad landings.

But there will also be moments of absolute wonder when that same plane climbs so high it feels like I'm leaving this universe to discover another.

Either way, the journey is mine.

And if you're lucky enough to be sitting beside me for part of it, there's something you should probably know:

I have an emergency hatch, and I'm no longer afraid to open it.

There are no seats available for bitterness.

No seats for constant fighting.

No seats for anger, cruelty, shame, intimidation or negativity.

But first class?

Oh, honey.

I have first-class seats waiting for love.

Joy.

Kindness.

Friendship.

Laughter.

Peace.

Adventure.

The people who show up.

The people who make room.

The people who say, Go ahead, Fina. I'll dance through the airport with you.

Some people may call this new chapter a midlife crisis.

Some will call me crazy.

Some will watch from a distance and wonder what the hell happened to me.

Let them.

Because I finally know what happened.

I woke up.

This isn't my midlife crisis.

It's my midlife awakening.

An awakening to who I want to be instead of who I have to be.

No expectations.

No judgment.

No waiting for permission.

Because honestly, my dear, I don't give a damn what you want me to be anymore.

I have a life to live.

And I've already wasted enough of it sitting in someone else's seat.

Veni, vidi, vici.

Fina