Newscoma Has Moved
Saturday, September 09, 2006
  Annoying Autobiographical Pause # 34 Turning 40 was fun. I held a birthday celebration the minute I turned 39 and I'm not joking. It was not a problem. On October 7th, I turn 41 and it ain't as much fun. I was feeling sort of depressed and I thought I needed a check-up back in July. The check-up turned into a series of tests that were profoundly upsetting. Thankfully, it wasn't cancer (there was some issue of this due to some nasty stuff) although there were a couple of health issues that arose that are more annoying than anything else. I have started waking up in the middle of the night sweating like a goat. This is occuring at least three-to-four times a week and so when I wake up at 2 a.m., I'm not going back to sleep which is making me very, very tired. I talked to my doctor about it and I also talked about this overwhelming sense of being out of sorts that I've been experiencing. More tests. Yup, menopause. Ain't that a stinker. Nothing major has happened other than not feeling attractive and wanting to do bizarre things out of my character like buying a Harley and going to swingers clubs (just kidding on the latter). Now, don't get me wrong. Things are fine, but I was looking around and found this and it sort of applies.
How do you define midlife crisis?

It's a time of profound psychological turbulence that usually occurs between the ages of 38 and 55, and often results in dramatic life changes. It can last from 2 to 12 years; the defining symptom is a sense that the values that have guided you for many years no longer hold meaning. The next stage is identifying old parts of yourself that you've suppressed. Those needs and desires can become very important at midlife. They start to take on great power, and it's easy to do damage to your existing relationships and career.

I hope I don't do damage but damn it all if I would want to go nuts, break somethings and take up gambling. But I am a bit depressed. I am wanting to do something different. I have no idea what that might be, but my mother died when she was 54 years old. That's 14 years from where I am now and yes I dwell upon it sometimes.

In the last month, I've been to two very devastating funerals. Responsibilities I used to throw myself into with a great deal of satisfaction are now just tedious. So I'm wanting to do things. Five years ago I had more money than I do now. I thought that would change actually as I got older and I have considered just taking a job where I can make more dough then I am now, but I go through bizarroland thinking no one would ever hire me because, dammit, I'm older.

I'm seeking something. I have no idea what I'm seeking, I just know I am. I, for the first time in my life, understand mid-life crisis. (Not to be confused with the Middle Eastern Crisis, which just makes me more depressed.) I got the middle-age-just starting menopause blues.

Listening to John Coltrane last week made me cry my head off.

I want something fun and sexy to happen. When my dad turned 40, he bought a Delorean. I don't have that kind of cash, but a Vespa would be nice with a small, mute houseboy who is smitten with me riding behind me where I can trade him in weekly so I have variety.

Now before you all go, NC is sad, I'm not. Maybe a little, but not really. I'm more something else.

I'm anxious. And I want a new adventure. So we will see.

And I figured if CLC could right about his syphillis scare, then it would be okay to write about me falling into middle-age.

I guess I need a beer. Being that I couldn't come to the blogger meet in Nashville and that set me off, I might have two. 
Happy birthday!
I wish you could have been with us today...I'm almost 54 (this week, holy shit..) and you get past this stuff..really.

Come on back down our way and hang around some...
I love you.

I wish I could take you out and get you well and truly drunk.

Then we would cuddle.
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