[Misc] Midlife crisis

[Wrong-Direction]

I didn't want the change, I was happy to plod on with meals out, nights out with a mate/s, skiing etc. Then the little ones stole my heart.

My worry is what the world will be like in 20 years

 

[METALMICKY]

So you've still got the earing, top-knot and Porsche then?

Top knot surely not acceptable at any age? Only the other day I witnessed bloke in his 30's with top knot, tight smart trousers that were divorced from his ankles and slip on brogues. If only I'd had my sniper rifle to hand!

 

[Weststander]

My worry is what the world will be like in 20 years

Great point, obviously.

 

[The Clamp]

Has anyone decided to not have kids and regretted it in later life?

Nope.

Decided in my twenties I didn’t want kids. Lost the love of my life over it. Which tore me up for a couple of years but despite that I haven’t once regretted not having kids.

In fact I often think how glad I am I didn’t.

I’m not Dad material.

One of the few correct decisions I have made in my life.

 

[papachris]

Being widowed at 44 has a funny way of making you appreciate what you have and learning not to get too bothered about the little things.

I get over (most!) bad Albion results much quicker than I ever used to, and I tend not to get too caught up in the negative emotions around football or anything else, simply because life has taught me there are a lot worse things that could happen. That's not to say I don't understand anybody else losing their mind over a game: just that my life experience has perhaps given me a bit of extra perspective.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer at 46, we were told it was incurable, and that he could have six months or six years left. At that point, I was all over the place. We humans like certainty, or at least what we perceive to be certainty, which is to say that even on an unconscious level, we tend to imagine the future with us and our loved ones in it. We don't ever stop to think that might not be the case. So when they basically said "yeah, you're screwed" to him, all I could think of was how I was going to cope with the uncertainty of it all. And then I realised, thanks to some words of wisdom from a friend, that tomorrow is promised to none of us. I could get hit by a bus myself the next day, so spending all my hours in turmoil, worrying about when the worst would happen to him was entirely counter-productive.

He lasted three and a half months from diagnosis, so they got that wrong too. It was shit. Really shit. But I see myself as having a choice. With a bit of luck, I have a good few decades left in me yet, and therefore I choose not to be sat around like Queen Victoria, dressed in black, shutting the world off and feeling sorry for myself. I consider myself as having the chance he never got: more time. Time to do the things I want to do when I want to do them (and I do appreciate I'm fortunate enough to be in a position to do that), rather than putting them off and thinking there will always be another year. Because sometimes there isn't, and I don't want to be sat there in my sixties or seventies, wishing I'd done more fun things, or seen more places. I feel like it would be disrespectful to him to waste that chance.

So do things for you sometimes. Do things because you enjoy them. Tell your people you love them while you still can. And buy that ticket for Stoke City away in the FA Cup when we get drawn against them tomorrow, because sometimes, the final whistle comes a lot sooner than you think, and (unless Simon Hooper is refereeing your life) you might not get that nine minutes of added time.

So sorry for your loss. But what you say really puts things in perspective and I find it really inspirational. Thank you so much for sharing your story

 

[The Clamp]

Being widowed at 44 has a funny way of making you appreciate what you have and learning not to get too bothered about the little things.

I get over (most!) bad Albion results much quicker than I ever used to, and I tend not to get too caught up in the negative emotions around football or anything else, simply because life has taught me there are a lot worse things that could happen. That's not to say I don't understand anybody else losing their mind over a game: just that my life experience has perhaps given me a bit of extra perspective.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer at 46, we were told it was incurable, and that he could have six months or six years left. At that point, I was all over the place. We humans like certainty, or at least what we perceive to be certainty, which is to say that even on an unconscious level, we tend to imagine the future with us and our loved ones in it. We don't ever stop to think that might not be the case. So when they basically said "yeah, you're screwed" to him, all I could think of was how I was going to cope with the uncertainty of it all. And then I realised, thanks to some words of wisdom from a friend, that tomorrow is promised to none of us. I could get hit by a bus myself the next day, so spending all my hours in turmoil, worrying about when the worst would happen to him was entirely counter-productive.

He lasted three and a half months from diagnosis, so they got that wrong too. It was shit. Really shit. But I see myself as having a choice. With a bit of luck, I have a good few decades left in me yet, and therefore I choose not to be sat around like Queen Victoria, dressed in black, shutting the world off and feeling sorry for myself. I consider myself as having the chance he never got: more time. Time to do the things I want to do when I want to do them (and I do appreciate I'm fortunate enough to be in a position to do that), rather than putting them off and thinking there will always be another year. Because sometimes there isn't, and I don't want to be sat there in my sixties or seventies, wishing I'd done more fun things, or seen more places. I feel like it would be disrespectful to him to waste that chance.

So do things for you sometimes. Do things because you enjoy them. Tell your people you love them while you still can. And buy that ticket for Stoke City away in the FA Cup when we get drawn against them tomorrow, because sometimes, the final whistle comes a lot sooner than you think, and (unless Simon Hooper is refereeing your life) you might not get that nine minutes of added time.

Sorry for your loss. What an eye opening post.

 

[Behind Enemy Lines]

Being widowed at 44 has a funny way of making you appreciate what you have and learning not to get too bothered about the little things.

I get over (most!) bad Albion results much quicker than I ever used to, and I tend not to get too caught up in the negative emotions around football or anything else, simply because life has taught me there are a lot worse things that could happen. That's not to say I don't understand anybody else losing their mind over a game: just that my life experience has perhaps given me a bit of extra perspective.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer at 46, we were told it was incurable, and that he could have six months or six years left. At that point, I was all over the place. We humans like certainty, or at least what we perceive to be certainty, which is to say that even on an unconscious level, we tend to imagine the future with us and our loved ones in it. We don't ever stop to think that might not be the case. So when they basically said "yeah, you're screwed" to him, all I could think of was how I was going to cope with the uncertainty of it all. And then I realised, thanks to some words of wisdom from a friend, that tomorrow is promised to none of us. I could get hit by a bus myself the next day, so spending all my hours in turmoil, worrying about when the worst would happen to him was entirely counter-productive.

He lasted three and a half months from diagnosis, so they got that wrong too. It was shit. Really shit. But I see myself as having a choice. With a bit of luck, I have a good few decades left in me yet, and therefore I choose not to be sat around like Queen Victoria, dressed in black, shutting the world off and feeling sorry for myself. I consider myself as having the chance he never got: more time. Time to do the things I want to do when I want to do them (and I do appreciate I'm fortunate enough to be in a position to do that), rather than putting them off and thinking there will always be another year. Because sometimes there isn't, and I don't want to be sat there in my sixties or seventies, wishing I'd done more fun things, or seen more places. I feel like it would be disrespectful to him to waste that chance.

So do things for you sometimes. Do things because you enjoy them. Tell your people you love them while you still can. And buy that ticket for Stoke City away in the FA Cup when we get drawn against them tomorrow, because sometimes, the final whistle comes a lot sooner than you think, and (unless Simon Hooper is refereeing your life) you might not get that nine minutes of added time.

I've been a member of NSC for a very long time and this is one of the best and most honest posts I can ever remember. Thank you for sharing. i'm so sorry you've had to go through this.
Roll on Stoke away.

 

[Herne Hill Seagull]

Eloquently and poignantly written, Lady W. Hats off and all the very best to you.

I was tempted to write in response to the OP - if I'm remembering that far back in the thread correctly - that if he did buy a bike (or any other decision he may make) it's only himself and his loved ones that would have to make peace with it. I recommend Carl Sagan's commentary on the Pale Blue Dot for a sense of perspective on how short-lived and irrelevant each of us are; given enough time, and assuming we don't eliminate our own species first, even the very worst (and the greatest) of us will all be forgotten. So I very much believe in living the few years each of us is given as one sees fit (without hurting others) if at all possible. I've hit my mid-fifties too, and I'm another who's grateful that neither I nor my missus ever wanted kids—it's easy to feel like we're living in the end of days at the moment.

Back down to earth, one thing that ageing (and moving away) has produced in me is a much more balanced response to the trials and tribulations of the Albion. It's helped of course that this is, despite disappointments, a golden age for anybody who went through all the crap of the 90s and the fight for the club's very existence. A loss used to ruin my weekend and a loss to Palace would ruin my week or longer. Now, having been abroad for eight years, coming over for games the half-dozen times a season that I do, each of them feels like a special occasion and I hugely enjoy them – win, lose or draw.

 

[Vicar!]

Cheers. We are actually in central Brazil in a very rural area.
Every few months we try to visit a coastal city, as we have an airport less than 1 hour from us, but Salvador would be bottom of the list as we just find it so dangerous.
I'm guessing there was a heavy police presence during the WC?

Yes, two different groups. Only problem was on opening night after the ceremony with the drummers. The shoe boys attacked, sweeping through the crowd and grabbing anything they could get hold of. Hotly pursued by the local police and the military police following. So yes bit of a mess. Spoke to one lad who decided to take the local bus from the airport and was left with only the clothes he was wearing.

I should point out that I stayed with a friend in Rio many years ago and learned street code pretty quickly.

 

[Bodian]

Being widowed at 44 has a funny way of making you appreciate what you have and learning not to get too bothered about the little things.

I get over (most!) bad Albion results much quicker than I ever used to, and I tend not to get too caught up in the negative emotions around football or anything else, simply because life has taught me there are a lot worse things that could happen. That's not to say I don't understand anybody else losing their mind over a game: just that my life experience has perhaps given me a bit of extra perspective.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer at 46, we were told it was incurable, and that he could have six months or six years left. At that point, I was all over the place. We humans like certainty, or at least what we perceive to be certainty, which is to say that even on an unconscious level, we tend to imagine the future with us and our loved ones in it. We don't ever stop to think that might not be the case. So when they basically said "yeah, you're screwed" to him, all I could think of was how I was going to cope with the uncertainty of it all. And then I realised, thanks to some words of wisdom from a friend, that tomorrow is promised to none of us. I could get hit by a bus myself the next day, so spending all my hours in turmoil, worrying about when the worst would happen to him was entirely counter-productive.

He lasted three and a half months from diagnosis, so they got that wrong too. It was shit. Really shit. But I see myself as having a choice. With a bit of luck, I have a good few decades left in me yet, and therefore I choose not to be sat around like Queen Victoria, dressed in black, shutting the world off and feeling sorry for myself. I consider myself as having the chance he never got: more time. Time to do the things I want to do when I want to do them (and I do appreciate I'm fortunate enough to be in a position to do that), rather than putting them off and thinking there will always be another year. Because sometimes there isn't, and I don't want to be sat there in my sixties or seventies, wishing I'd done more fun things, or seen more places. I feel like it would be disrespectful to him to waste that chance.

So do things for you sometimes. Do things because you enjoy them. Tell your people you love them while you still can. And buy that ticket for Stoke City away in the FA Cup when we get drawn against them tomorrow, because sometimes, the final whistle comes a lot sooner than you think, and (unless Simon Hooper is refereeing your life) you might not get that nine minutes of added time.

Very inspiring - thank you for writing that for us.

If you don't mind, I think I shall be quoting your 'you might not get that nine minutes of added time'.

 

[thedonkeycentrehalf]

I'm 56 and seemed to get by without a midlife crisis - no tattoo, motorbike or sports car and Mrs DCH has somehow still put up with me for over 30 years. The kids are grown up - one still lives with us - and we moved to a nice place a couple of years ago which hopefully will be our final home.

In my mind, I still think I am 28 but I am finding the body is failing more often. I still try to play football in goal but the injuries and issues keep coming. I'm sure a lot of it comes from playing through injuries when I was younger but I already have a partial knee replacement after four previous ops on that knee, the ankle needed surgery and last year, I had to get surgery on my right foot.

More recently, a niggly wrist injury has turned out to be a torn ligament that I kept ignoring until it became too uncomfortable and seeing a specialist in the next week to get that sorted - thankfully I have a great private medical scheme at work. Type 2 diabetic (after giving up booze) and also on statins because that is what they give to older diabetics now.

I have a good, well paid job but am at the stage where I am less tolerant of the corporate rubbish and the bell cheeses who regurgitate that stuff and I am not looking to get any further up the career ladder - been up and down it a few times and happy where I am now. I am lucky enough to be in a position where I am able to keep loading the pension pot.

I look enviously at the retirement thread and, if all goes well, I plan to be able to decide if I want to continue in four years time or just walk away. I started work at 15 (August baby) so feel I have done my time and really looking forward to that second life.

I've been to too many funerals of people younger than me, have a few friends at different stages of cancer treatment and that is why I want to finish full time work when I can and then enjoy a hopefully long retirement. I will probably do some volunteering work to keep the mind active.

I guess I have decided to put off the midlife crisis and look forward to being an active, unruly early pensioner instead.

 

[sydney]

Congratulations. That is very place I would run too if I had to disappear. Somewhere near Pipa would be ideal. I really need to get back, but how do you top a week in Salvador in the middle of the World Cup.

@MTSeagulls ...fair play to you brother ...Brazil , smoked meats , wine , catching your own fish......bloody love it mate .....footnote normally I come home and spend an hour on whattsap organising shit for the next day but this afternoon I have come home and opened this thread which I have saved on the desktop .....thanks xx

 

[sydney]

“Fabulous! What’s your first question Chuck and who’s it to?”

View attachment 196435

funny f@cker...

 

[Guinness Boy]

Apologies for a bit of a bummer of a post but I absolutely loathe being in my 50s, it's the worst decade of my life by a long, long way. My dad died last summer in France and you have 5 days to get out there for the cremation. Nearly died ourselves on a French motorway on the way home. Now me and my brother are somehow in charge of bringing my mental, hoarding, anti-vaxxer step mum home on a budget of a few beans. Meanwhile two kids wanting to go to uni and constant, constant anxiety about whether I'll have a job soon. I'll be AI-d out for sure and don't fancy my chances of getting other work as a fifty something white, straight male who's always done "brain work". It just feels like I'm at my most vulnerable just as everyone seems to be financially and emotionally depending on me.

Three escapes, luckily. Family - very lucky to have a happy marriage and two great kids. Dog - he's mental but gets me out every day and has made us loads of friends. And The Albion. Am ramping up the number of games whenever I can. Yes, that money should probably be going in a pension but f**k it. It's almost the only thing that keeps me sane.

 

[UnhingedSeagull94]

Age has never bothered me at all, I actually enjoy getting older though for various reasons I don't particularly mark my birthday beyond what I have to do so Mini-Exile doesn't think it's weird when she celebrates hers. I reach 50 in a few weeks though and I'm really, really noticing that the midlife crisis - or as a mate calls it "midlife re-evaluation" is a very real thing for some of us despite me being cynical about it before and not believing it'd happen to me.

I've not gone to get a motorbike or run off with a younger woman or got any regrettable tattoos (yet) but there's definitely an awareness, not morbid though, that I've never had before that time is running down and I've lived most of my life now - a poet, Charles Wright, talks about "one day more is one day less" and I feel that. Not in a depressed way at all, just recognising it and a very strong feeling that I need to do something more with the time left than I have done with the past, say, 10 years (like maybe I should get a motorbike, run off with a younger woman and get some regrettable tattoos).

Also noticing things like I bought a lightbulb yesterday that will almost certainly last longer than I will. I still use the snooker cue I got for my 21st birthday and it's still fine, but I'm treating myself to a nicer one for my 50th and I know on that basis that'll probably outlast me too. Again, it's not morbid, I find that idea of continuity of things reassuring and comforting. I totally understand now why some people I've worked with in the past have reached 50 and older and suddenly started talking about needing to find purpose, or looking for charitable "legacy" work, or thrown everything up in the air and almost started again much more content having rebooted and reshaped their lives.

In the next 3 years Mini Exile will leave home, I'll move house very likely to the one I'll stay in until I can retire at 67 and probably beyond then too, maybe forever, shortly after that it'll be my silver wedding anniversary...there are so many life moments I remember my parents having and them seeming abstract to me that are now becoming my moments.

So wise people of NSC, now I've learned my cynicism of midlife crisis/re-evaluation was misguided, what if anything did you find in your 50s that was common among your peers so I can be ready for it? (And I'll be disappointed if at least some of the answers aren't taking the mickey.)

Thanks for sharing. I feel this at 30.