[NB: This post, more of a lyric essay or freestyle poetic riff than a journalistically sound response to Wajahat Ali’s August 28, 2018 op-ed, takes liberties with quotations that may misrepresent the intentions, emphasis, and/or conclusions of the author. All quotations are excerpted from the original, but the nature of remix/mashup alters the content in service to creative ends. It is strongly recommended that you read the the original, A Midlife Crisis in the Age of Trump (Source: The New York Times website).]
You might have missed Wajahat Ali‘s (@WajahatAli) op-ed yesterday about dreaming while middle-aging if you’re not as midlife mesmerized (ahem, myopic? obsessed?!?!) as I am.
But fret not. I’ve got you covered.
Today’s midlife mashup might as well start in the dark. Imagine your screen — movie, television, tablet, phone — lifeless, as if the power has been cut or your battery has been depleted. You are depleted. Or depleted and elated. Simultaneously. At the edge of a frontier. Darkness. No image. Not yet. Just darkness.
And then an image very gradually emerges. A man. Middle aged.
Is it your reflection in the black, lifeless glass? Has your de-powered screen become a mirror, reflecting your handsome mug? Your wise middle-aging mug?
Or has your device foraged some remaining bundle of energy, flickered back to life just enough to reveal a black and white image of a man. Not you. But a man not altogether unlike you either…
“I’m a 37-year-old man with a family who actually graduated from college and law school and is suffering from a midlife crisis that reveals itself in recurring nightmares… They’re all remixes of the same plot: I’m stuck, falling more behind all the time. The anxiety that I haven’t done enough — and will never do enough.. [never] make a difference in the world. To do something that matters…”
Wajahat Ali (Source: A Midlife Crisis in the Age of Trump, The New York Times)
As the image fades back to black, as you wonder whether you’ve imagined the whole thing, as you realize you should get back to work, get back to meetings and deadlines, bills, family, children, mortgage, car payments, tuitions, doctor’s appointments… As normal and predictable and logical settle back into proper alignment; as you refocus your attention on matters that matter, matters that really matter, you can’t help but ask yourself, “Should I update my mental bucket list?” Just a short reminder for the future, a tidy line item to cross off the list when time permits, an innoculant against regret in your golden years. Make a difference.
But a text message buzzes on your phone.
“Don’t forget to call the plumber.”
Damn! The plumber, right, the plumber…
Make A Difference
In short, we all yearn to matter. We yearn to make a difference, preferably a positive difference, in the world, our world. And we inevitably bump up against reminders that we could do more. That we’re note mattering enough, that we’re not making the right difference.
And like Wajahat Ali, many of us confront this possibility/reality with increased frequency and concern as our up-and-coming years are eclipsed by our middle-aging years. Much muddle is being made lately about whether or not their is such a thing as a midlife crisis. Let’s sidestep the polemics and pundits; let’s allow the term to serve as a placeholder for that angst that some of us feel as we grapple with our own finitude, busyness, dreams versus realities, etc. At least for now.
“I used to think a midlife crisis was a problem manufactured by privileged suburbanites. But my personal angst combined with my anxiety about the state of the country have made mine feel very real… I’m wasting my time navel gazing about a midlife crisis when there’s suffering all around me.
I fear that I’ll never accomplish my ‘to do list by 40’… I measure victories not by accomplishing the extraordinary but by simply performing the mundane, like paying the mortgage every month, trying (and failing) to sleep 7 hours a day and raising my good cholesterol.”
Wajahat Ali (Source: A Midlife Crisis in the Age of Trump, The New York Times)
It’s fair to say that several of the most important objectives on my own longterm to do list were not accomplished by 40. Or 45. Maybe by 50? Stay tuned.
My coping mechanism has been to double down. But also to navel gaze. For a half dozen years I’ve been mining my experience in the hopes of extracting something useful or at least entertaining. Slim pickings so far, but it’s been personally analgesic, sometimes even performance enhancing. So, for now at least, I’m staying the course.
A crisis, once confronted honestly, can become less overwhelming. My wife, concerned about my malaise, keeps reassuring me there’s enough time to accomplish it all, or at least what’s important… This moment, now, is the best years of our lives, which will never come back — and people with much less than I have have managed to make a mark on the world.
Wajahat Ali (Source: A Midlife Crisis in the Age of Trump, The New York Times)
One of the merits of my midlife myopia is that I’ve been able to “garden my goals”. I’ve reseeded and cultivated, pruned and grafted, harvested and composted. The values and objectives that guided me in my twenties and thirties have matured. Well into my forties my garden is evolving.
Midlife malaise isn’t an affliction of the past, but I’m coping better, often even recognizing the rewards of my work, my life. I can’t wait to wake up in the morning. That’s not new. But I’m also better able to fall asleep in the evening. That is new.
A few nights ago, I had the midlife crisis dream again.
“This time, when I woke up, I didn’t dwell on it. I decided to think less about being behind, and more about how to make the most of the time I have left.”
Wajahat Ali (Source: A Midlife Crisis in the Age of Trump, The New York Times)
Dreaming, whether daydreaming or night nestled REM-ing, inevitably offers up angsty nightmares from time to time. Sometimes a lot of the time.
But dreams are dreams. Midlife is real. Middle-aging is real.
I will make my mark. But I won’t miss out on these wondrous seconds, minutes, hours — quite possibly the best years of my life — because I’m petrified or paralyzed by the unwinding clock or ashamed of the targets that I’ve missed. I will live today. Every day. I will “make the most of the time I have left.”