Many of us love to play the waiting game. We wait for a more prestigious job where we can be awesome. We wait for the perfect man (or woman) with whom the relationship will be amazing. We wait for the big stuff because small means nothing. We wait for better and more exciting days to escape the ordinary. We ignore today as we wait for tomorrow.
We wait for miracles and breakthroughs – but huge ones. We want the drum roll. We want the dramatic “Wow” and “Aha”.
We wait for the lightning to strike.
But there is no lightning. It may look like storm but no. There isn’t even rain.
C’est la vie…
Drive down memory lane
I had a meeting in Hyde Park last week. I don’t mind Hyde Park but the drive was still a pain. There was a road block on my way there and I got lost, too. My drive back had me stuck in traffic.
I had a meeting in Rosebank. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go. Rosebank and I am not friends. I also don’t like driving around or I would have been a sales rep. If I must drive, I’d drive long distance. I love the open road. I suppose…
On my way back to work, I drove past my old apartment in Illovo. It looks rather shabby after 16 years although the area didn’t change much.
Then, Corlett Drive turned into memory lane. I realized how much I have changed.
I remembered that despite the many times I got lost in Rosebank, I was there often. My friends and I partied there in 1999/2000. The Hyatt was a hang out. I even went to church there. Later on, I was in the area a lot because the majority of the casting directors has their studios in the suburb. I had an agency for models and characters then.
I was bold and fearless in those days. Nothing scared me. I was adventurous. I could do anything. I drove everywhere. I met people and made friends with them. I took risks. I grabbed every opportunity that came my way. I was 20-something. I was single [again].
My mind was racing by the time I got on the highway. I wondered about the massive change in me. I have become too careful. I stopped taking risks except for calculated ones. Am I having fun still?
Did anyone and/or anything changed me? Who and/or what?
Did Fourways make me lazy and complacent? Or, it’s just right that I don’t need [to go to] Rosebank or Hyde Park anymore.
Does having a man in my life make me a sissy? I can no longer go anywhere, especially if not around the corner from Fourways, without him as my driver, bodyguard and protector.
Is it but part of growing up? I need to be responsible. Stability and security are important. A daring life belongs to the youth.
Is it purely a natural process of growing old? My energy is quickly depleted now. In fact, I probably start off with less energy now than 15 years ago. I shouldn’t be running around chasing dreams at my age and energy level.
But I don’t want to be old and lethargic. Not yet.
I still have goals to reach and dreams to realize.
I began to understand how mid-life crisis comes about.
Yes, I am saying it – it’s my fault! I am solely to blame.
Realization in slow motion…
…as I was driving, faster than usual, on the highway, which I normally avoid because the highway makes me forget to tell myself that I am old and responsible, and must drive accordingly, it became apparent that there is no one and nothing more guilty than me, myself and I.
No drum roll.
I – yes, me! – tell myself that I’m old(er) and have less energy. I make me old! I will find any excuse not to exercise and blame old age for not losing the extra fat I have been carrying for four years or so. Yet, exercise will solve the aging, energy level and weight issues – one time! Duh!
I shall cease to call myself old immediately and hit the yoga mat without further delay.
I don’t have to be old and boring just because I think I am expected to be so.
If we allowed ourselves the youthful attitude that we’re not quite ready to leave behind yet despite the number, there would be no need for mid-life crisis.
If we didn’t give in to the ‘expectations’ of us (by whom, I don’t know… or does it really matter?) based on age, position and responsibilities, we would not need to exchange the small sports car for a station wagon. We can enjoy the zippy car when not ferrying the spouse and children and drive the family car all other times.
And, if I have to live to 100, it’s too early for loose slacks and maxi skirts.
Bring out a pair of denim shorts and let me – all of my 44 years and then some – rock it! 🙂