I’ve just turned 50 and I’m slowing down. What’s interesting about this is that my slowing down isn’t happening because I’m aging. That part is pretty easy, actually. I just wake up every day and voila! I’m older. But the slowing down – that’s new. And while it’s connected to me getting older, it’s not […]
Turning fifty feels so monumental that I've put pressure on myself to come up with something profound to say about it. I suppose a list of life lessons would be apt. Or maybe a retrospective that sums up the totality of half a century with some pithy one-liners wrapped in a witty little bow. Neither of those things appeal to me right now, though.
I’d convinced myself I was “doing just fine” before my crisis really got its claws into me. I tried everything in my power to avoid admitting to myself that the life I'd been living was no longer serving me. That it was, in fact, causing me harm. I likely would have continued on that way forever if I hadn’t had a legitimate crisis that almost broke me and forced me to reckon with the conflict between who I am and how I was living.
