For years, I've enjoyed writing about the stuff I'm experiencing. Blogging, for me, has essentially been my diary. Publicly shared, of course, because I've found great value in expressing vulnerability. It keeps me humble because, as Shelly often reminds me, I'm prone to grandiosity-fueled over-confidence.
But a weird thing has happened over the last five years or so. I've experienced a strange form of writer's block. I've started countless blog posts on a wide variety of topics, but could never seem to finish them. Or if I did, I couldn't quite bring myself to hit the "publish" button.
I couldn't explain this hesitancy. I'm not one to hold back my thoughts or opinions. This writer's block, though, seemed to be fueled by a vague-but-deep sense of... incompleteness. Every thought, idea, and opinion I had felt worthy of being expressed, but there was an unseen force that created a wall. It was a mystery I couldn't solve.
Until I did.
It turns out the culprit was my midlife crisis.
Weird, right?
The stereotype of a midlife crisis involves ditching your family, buying a gaudy sports car, dating 20-year-olds, and wearing skinny jeans. Mine was suddenly becoming an indecisive writer.
Anyway, I digress.
Enter Tim Ferriss
Many years ago, I had a stereotypically-normal life. I had a good career as a high school psychology teacher, a wife, three small children, a dog, pretty good cars, and a fledgling hobby as a barefoot ultrarunner. Totally normal stuff. American dram-type stuff.
Then I read Timothy Ferriss' "The 4-Hour Work Week." The book was a revelation because it framed all the emotional and psychological turmoil and angst percolating beneath the surface of my "normal" life. The book caused me to realize my life was deeply unfulfilling, and I had trapped myself in a life of silent desperation that would lead to a slow march toward death.
That revelation led to a radical embracing of adventure. If you know me, you know the story well. Shelly and I quit our teaching jobs and went on a decade-long adventure. And man, it was soooo worth it. The stuff we experienced was nothing short of amazing.
Eventually, though, we craved some stability and moved to Colorado. We more or less fell into new careers in law enforcement and went about raising our kids. We've managed to create a pretty great, stable life with enough adventure and excitement to scratch a lot of the itches we escaped from back in our teaching days. In the process of experiencing our adventures and return to stability, I discovered a lot of ideas that turned out to be pretty damn important, which are reflected in the post immediately before this one.
But there was this nagging writer's block weighing on my soul.
Enter Tim Ferriss 2.0
As a patrol officer in law enforcement, we do shift work, including the night shift. At 3:30 am, things in our small town are typically quiet (yeah, I said the "Q" word, fellow cops). During those boring AF times, I indulge in dorkiness and drive around and listen to podcasts. One of my favorites is Scott Barry Kaufman's "The Psychology Podcast." One episode really stood out. Scott was having a conversation with Chip Conley, the author of the book "Learning to Love Midlife." It was compelling enough to lead me to buy the book. Here's the episode:
I just finished it this morning.
Holy shit.
The impact was analogous to the impact Ferriss' book had on me years ago. This book framed all the emotional and psychological turmoil and angst percolating beneath the surface of my "normal" life... but in a much different way than "The 4-Hour Work Week."
Conley basically ditches the "one-and-done" notion of adulthood by saying we’ve got a “first adulthood” that’s all about collecting achievements, like careers, status, family, mortgages, and so on. Then we transition into a “second adulthood,” when we shift from accumulating stuff to distilling wisdom, nurturing deeper connections, and finding meaning beyond the external accolades we once chased.
Instead of hitting midlife and thinking, “Well, guess I’m over the hill,” Conley frames it as a legit second chapter of grown-up life. You’ve done your time building a foundation, and now you get to pivot toward a more introspective, enriching experience. It’s not a crisis, he says, but a bridge to a richer, more purposeful life where we stop trying to impress the world and start connecting the dots of our own story, discovering that the real magic happens when we realize adulthood actually comes in two acts.
It's absolutely brilliant.
Ferriss's book gave me permission to live my first adulthood on my own terms. Conley's book gave me the permission to stop clinging to my beloved first adulthood and embrace the second. I'll likely write a lot more about this in the near future, but the relevant point for this blog post is the epiphany that my writer's block caused by my failure to really understand myself. I was in that transitional phase between my first and second adulthood.
Clinging to Youth Sucks
We've all heard aging people piss and moan about how much aging sucks. I call bullshit. Aging is pretty damn awesome. It's clinging to youth that sucks. So many of the things we could do with ease, and usually take for granted, get exponentially more difficult as we age. We fight it, but it's a fight we're always going to lose.
The older we get, the more time and energy it takes to cling to the trappings of youth. For example, based on my data, it takes me about three times the caloric expenditure and at least double the time to stay fit as it did 15 years ago. That's time and energy we could be spending doing something better. This doesn't mean I need to give up staying healthy, but it does mean I need to readjust my expectations. Conley's book perfectly explains this dilemma. And it explains my writer's block.
I write about my own experiences. The influence of the arrow of time was the variable that I failed to consider, which is the reason I have so many unpublished blog posts. I've had a vague sense of my own experiences with the futility of clinging to youth and my growth to a new, different stage of life, but I couldn't articulate what I was thinking or feeling. Everything I wrote about was written from the perspective of the young version of me... and it lacked the authenticity of my earlier writings when I was actually young.
So What?
My soul craves excitement and adventure. That's not changing with age. However, Conley's book caused a pretty radical reframing. For the last few years, I've experienced some pretty strong negative thoughts and feelings about my diminishing capacity to engage in the kinds of exciting and adventurous things I was able to do over the last two decades.
All of that negativity, though, disappeared immediately when I had the epiphany that all I needed to do was change my perspective. Instead of desperately clinging to the excitement and adventure of my first adulthood, all I needed to do was shift my focus to the excitement and adventure of my second adulthood.
Poof!
Suddenly, I'm no longer mourning the fact that I can't read without glasses, or I can't dominate the skilled, athletic kids on the jiu jitsu mats anymore. Instead, I'm excitedly looking forward to being on the brink of having a lot more free time (yay, empty nest!) and being able to enjoy life without caring about external validation from people who don't matter.
So What is this Midlife Crisis?
I've realized my midlife crisis was nothing more than what Conley called "middlescence", which is a play on adolescence. Adolescent is the life phase where we transition from childhood to adulthood. Middlesence is the life phase where we transition from first adulthood to second adulthood. Basically, we're learning to navigate a new phase of life that's radically different from the previous phase.
Of course, I'm almost certain I'm at the end of middescence, which is why I feel like I'm fully prepared to ditch the clinging to my youth and embrace the excitement and adventure of my second adulthood. In reality, I've been silently battling though middlesence for years.
I really wish this book would have been published five years ago, even though it probably would have robbed me of the opportunity to struggle with this transition. I feel like I could have helped some folks by writing about my struggles.
Which brings me to the real point of this post. I know a lot of my readers are in my cohort... in part because you're still reading a freakin' blog, which you saw on Facebook. For y'all who are about 35-60, I'm motivated to start writing about this shit. Or, more specifically, writing about the shit I've always written about, but framed from the perspective of the life stage when we can really have fun.
Don't get me wrong; being young can be hella fun. But youth comes with a lot of baggage. There a whole lotta insecurities and anxieties, usually tied to a sense that we need to "keep up", that make youth kinda shitty. We chase status and approval, we never feel like we have enough, or we're somehow missing out. No matter how hard we try to live in the present and just enjoy life, we continually get sucked into living our lives on other people's terms. Aging makes that increasingly difficult to the point where it becomes impossible.
Middle age, though, brings the opportunity to free ourselves of that shit. We're more self-aware, more emotionally-intelligent, and we have a deeper sense of purpose. We're more confident, authentic, and we start to develop real wisdom. We accept who we truly are, which allows us to develop real connection with others. There's an undeniable beauty that comes with middle age, which I want to fully explore.
If this post has piqued some interest, stick around. I'm going to be exploring this topic in a lot more detail in the near future, and I really want to connect (or re-connect) with readers who are also excited about the adventures of this next stage of life.
Normally, I'd tell my readers to share the post if they liked it, but quite honestly, I don't want the attention. I don't care how many people read this. I care that the right people read this. I want to curate a tribe of folks who get this post. If you really want to share this with someone you know personally, share it with them and only them.
If this does resonate with you, leave a comment! I'm interested to hear your story.
~Jason
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