A quarter-life crisis.
I had just finished describing to her my weekend, and the pits of despair I unexpectedly fell into. I learned a long time ago that if you happen to find yourself in the dark places my mind went over those four days – it's probably something best shared with a therapist. Someone who will hold you accountable for getting out of that pit once your wallowing is complete. Because otherwise, it is far too easy to get stuck.
So there I was; trying to explain to her what had set me off. The nagging worry that is still threatening to bring me to my knees every time I allow it to enter my head even now.
The fear that this is now my life. That this will always be my life. That I will always be in pain, I will never have children, and nothing will ever make me happy ever again.
Forever.
When I imagine my life now, I can’t breathe. I feel like I am choking under the weight of it all.
Dr. Headshrink stopped me right there, and told me that what I was describing was exactly what people feel when they are going through a mid-life crisis.
Stuck in between the life I had mapped out for myself, and the one I was given instead.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
Only, I’m obviously (hopefully) not at mid-life right now. It is instead my quarter-life crisis.
Regardless, she said that the challenge for me now is going to be reinventing my life. Finding something new to get excited about. Something new to throw myself into. Allowing myself to deviate from the life I wanted, and jump head first into a life I never would have otherwise dreamed of.
I pouted. Proclaimed “But! I want the life I wanted! Not something new that won’t be as good!”
Like any good head shrink would, she tried to redirect me. Attempted to get me to talk about what I would be doing with my life if becoming a mother hadn’t suddenly become such an urgent necessity.
I explained that I would probably be traveling more. Seeing the world. Volunteering abroad.
Living out my own version of Eat Pray Love.
When she suggested I perhaps allow myself some of that now, I had to remind her that I’m not exactly in that position financially.
Not now anyway.
And we were back at square one.
Square one of my quarter life crisis.
How exactly does one go about reinventing themselves? Reinventing their lives? Scrapping entirely the life they had once hoped for, and building one instead that they can be at least equally happy with.
I’m tempted to say that this too is something I’m just going to hand over to God, but I know it’s not as simple as that. I know that I need to be willing to do some of the work as well. That God isn’t simply going to wave a magic wand and make me happy again. I need to be willing to follow my own bliss too.
I’m just not sure what that is anymore. I’m not sure what it would take to reignite my passion. My flame.
When I mentioned this to Dr. Headshrink, she again told me words I didn’t really want to hear.
Time. It’s going to take time. Grieving takes time.
I hate time. I want to feel better already. I want to be healed now.
I don't understand why I can't be.
It’s funny though, because on a completely logical level – I get that it is going to take time. In fact, just the other day when someone pointed out my melancholy in such a way that it was apparent they thought they were offending me – I almost had to laugh. Of course I’m morose! Of course I’m struggling! Of course I’m moody! I’m not oblivious to that at all, nor have I been hiding that fact in any way (at least not here – in my real life I like to think I’m putting on a better show!) I truly believe that anyone who had experienced the last 2 years I have would be feeling the same level of sadness and grief. And when I look at it logically from the outside – I can totally understand my mood.
But when I’m not looking at it logically? When I’m stuck in the middle of it, living day in and day out with this sadness?
I just want it to be over with. I want to feel happy again.
Thankfully, Dr. Headshrink shares my views of psychotropics and has not once recommended them to me. Even as I’ve sat there in tears asking her when I will stop feeling like this. She reminds me that I am not a depressed person. That it’s not a chemical imbalance or something that can be fixed medicinally. It’s situational depression, and eventually it will pass.
With time.
I loathe time.
But here I am. Waiting for time to pass. Stuck smack dab in the middle of my quarter-life crisis.
And wondering how it is that you reinvent a life when the one you’ve always dreamed of has been taken away?
