A Midlife Crisis Without The Ugly Convertible
It's like I'm watching the cheese fall off my cracker with indifference
There was strange music hovering in the air today. The wind in the trees, birdsong, children yelling and laughing, and car motors passing. Before long, you could hear a dog barking in the distance and a small chain on the fence that sang like chimes. I could really only enjoy it while I was able to be present and in the moment. Which wasn’t long at all. I have been seriously preoccupied–which wouldn’t be so bad if it was over something good. Or if they were ideas for my book, or for that matter, even the great Electrolux of Time: falling in love.
But it hasn’t been any of those things.
In The Bell Jar, Esther Greenwood described herself walking through the city streets like “a numb trolleybus.” That was what I was this week, too. A numb trolleybus. Disconnected from the human race. Needless to say, this was no good. It isn’t too far a stretch to say that becoming disconnected from humanity is the first in a series of dominoes that leads to where Esther Greenwood and, by extension, Sylvia Plath found themselves.
For the last week or two, I have been allowing habits of a lifetime to simply fall by the wayside. I’ve gone to bed with dirty dishes still in the sink, I’ve ignored emails and texts, and my morning writing ritual is struggling. I haven’t picked up my guitar in weeks. It’s like I’m watching the cheese fall off my cracker with indifference. Very unusual.
But something needed to be done.
So after dropping my kids back at their mother’s, I drove home in silence to try to come into closer quarters with this apparition that has moved in and refused to leave. “That’s it!” I thought. I’ll make a list of what I need to do when I get home and I will force myself to do everything on the list. This is not going to go away by itself. It needs to be pushed away with determination.
So, I have it all planned and just as I am about to set the wheels in motion and pull myself out of the abyss, I get a text.:
“Can you talk?”
The text was from an on again off again on again off again girlfriend. In other words, she is not someone I would say no to. Especially if someone needs to talk. I am familiar with that awful feeling of needing to free myself of something and getting an endless string of voicemail answers. So I said yes and we were on the phone seconds later.
I will admit that I did feel a little anxious that I wouldn’t be starting to get my life back together at 4:45 sharp, but I figured 5:00 would be just as good as long as I didn’t get sidetracked. Well, as she spoke and told me about everything that she was struggling with, I realized it was identical to what I was dealing with.
I wish I could say I was making this up, but I’m not.
“So the solution to this planet-sized problem is staring me right in the face and I keep looking the other way,” she said.
“Yeah, well, it’s because—”
“It’s because I don’t want to change–as bad as I want everything to change,” she continued.
“I know exactly what you’re saying, I’m actually—”
“I mean, it’s like I have to push against gravity and I don’t have the energy to push against gravity.”
“Especially these days,” I said.
“Especially.”
“I’m up against the very same thing.”
“I figured,” she said. “I saw your Substack post.”
I published a very short note yesterday morning, explaining that I had no article to share yet. I was touched that she noticed.
“Hmm…well do you want to check in with each other everyday–sort of like accountability buddies?” I asked.
“That’s a good idea,” she said.
There was silence.
“Thank you for finding time to talk,” she continued. “I do feel a little better. Just a little,” she laughed.
“Well, I didn’t want to have to charge you so I didn’t overdo it.”
As I sit here now, feeling a new sense of hope, I realize that there is no substitute for human connection. It can save a person’s life.
I kind of wonder if she really did need to talk or if she saw the Substack post and extended her arms to me because she knew something was off. I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a beautiful person.
Either way, it worked as if she did.
And now, I find myself awake at 5 am on Sunday morning, ready to send this in and then to dive back into my novel. I feel as though I may have turned a corner on this runaway train. Sometimes the best way to avoid a midlife crisis is not to ask fruitless questions like: is this all there is? Or, what is the meaning of life?
I think Voltaire had the answer hundreds of years ago: we must cultivate our garden.
Excellent writing Billy. Your opening is filled with creativity and pulls the reader into the story. I felt your frustration and disconnection. Timely that your friend asked to talk, and whether she felt the same way, or as you mentioned- saw your previous post, she is a wonderful friend. Thanks for sharing this, I have been feeling a bit off lately.
I always appreciate the raw honesty of your writing Billy and this post is no different. I’m glad your friend reached out when did, at the seemingly perfect moment. Thank you for sharing.