Mid-Life Crisis?

What exactly is "Mid-Life Crisis?" 'Cause I thought I went through it at age 30. At age 30 I was in journalism school and wondering if I had screwed-up somehow? I was 30, in school, and I really didn't own much Stuff. Shouldn't I have owned more Stuff? And how much had I really accomplished in my life to that point? I was back in school, for pity's sake! And where, exactly was I going with my life? I thought I should have had more answers.

Fast forward to age 44 and I am looking back on the 30 year old and I am thinking, "Wow! I really had it together then!" I had more Stuff than I do now; I had an excitement for and a belief in the future. I had roots, family and friends, a great job and a partner of many years. I believed in myself, my skills, my abilities and that there were great things about me. I wanted to save the world by being Reporter Extraordinaire! I believed it was possible. I believed I could do anything I set my mind to.

It wasn't a cataclysmic change for me...it was slow and degrading like a water leak in your roof that eventually becomes a torrent of wet activity that invades your whole house. One day I just looked up and thought, "Who the fuck am I?" I no longer write for a living...something I took for granted I would always do. I don't even know where to start on things written anymore. I work at a job, where I look at myself in the mirror on days like today and ask, "What the hell are you doing here and how the hell did you get here?"

I look around at how I live. A beautiful friend rescued me from the airport after yet another failed relationship and gave me a place to stay. But this isn't my home. I sleep in a donated bed, I didn't buy, with an orange comforter given to me by another ghost in my life. I am surrounded by boxes of my books I have carted across the country, from relationship to relationship and someone else's home after someone else's home. I look at the clothes in my closet and they are evidence of my current inability to decide who I am. They are as much in transition as am I.

I have a sign on my wall that I etched out in black felt pen. It says, "Lost Waif Free Zone." I have fleeting days when I actually believe that. But then I remember I am about to embark on the biggest Lost Waif Challenge I have ever taken on. I am doing the Camino de Santiago and I will be a waif dependent on the kindness of strangers. I hope to God it is my last foray into Waifyness.

I want a home. Mine. I want Stuff. I don't need gobs and gobs of Stuff. The antiques of pretentiousness and the currency of the Matrix don't appeal to me. Just something comfortable and visually pleasing would be nice. I want a home to call my own, that no one but the undertaker can take from me if things don't work out.

I want friends I can rely on who know the meaning and value of loyalty. I always had many and probably took that for granted. I don't take that for granted anymore.

I want to know where I am going with my life. I want to know it without doubt or second guessing. I want to wake up in the morning, excited about some dream I have...some million dollar idea. I want to feel creative again, instead of remembering, with nostalgia, how I used to have a new idea for a play or a story, everyday.

I want to be excited about work...I want to feel like I am doing something of value, of worth. I want to be appreciated for my skills and who I am as a person.

I want to believe in myself again. Is this my real Mid-Life Crisis? I sure the hell hope this is the last time I have to ask that. I knew it all once. I know very little anymore. Does having the answers come full circle? Can somebody please fill me in? I missed the memo on this.