I think I’ve reached the point what they say as ‘mid-life crisis’. At the age of 34.
Wikipedia defines it as ‘A midlife crisis is a transition of identity and self-confidence that can occur in middle-aged individuals, typically 45–64 years old. The phenomenon is described as a psychological crisis brought about by events that highlight a person’s growing age, inevitable mortality, and possibly shortcomings of accomplishments in life. This may produce feelings of depression, remorse, and anxiety, or the desire to achieve youthfulness or make drastic changes to their current lifestyle.’
I don’t think I want to change myself and go back to my old self – youthful self. Or, to rewrite my life. Rather, I’ve skipped that step. Or, maybe I was at that point at the age of 29. Where I still believed I can be my youthful self again.
Now, I’ve reached to a state of resignation. Where I accept that I’m getting old. I can’t turn back the wheels of my age or life. Where I no longer think that I can create something new or unique from my life but it’s perhaps time to accept the life as it is and live it best. This is my ‘forever’. I don’t want to ‘do’ anything.
I think I always just liked to talk and dream on. Dream of a new world or a new reality that I can make out of my life. A feeling, that life still has a lot of surprises boxed up for me which are yet to unravel. I think I’ve stopped believing in that shit. I’ve woken up to reality.
It’s not like I never worked or tried. I tried. Over and over. But, then there were multiple incidents, which ended where I couldn’t change the reality. I reached a state of calm because I accepted the way things were.
There was a time when I could not handle or accept a change if it wasn’t what I wanted. It was a failure. Even if I couldn’t change the outcome, I would reflect and find what I could learn from it. Now, everything is more of an incidence. A life event. It happened. It passed.
Probably, another sign of ageing.
I’ve become a spectator to my life. Where life is happening whether I do something or not. I wake up, go to work, do my familial duties, as minimally as required. Stretching it to the very end. Half-hearted. Non-chalant.
It’s been months since I visited a parlor. I don’t care how I look. I got a shabby hair cut. I don’t care if people find my appearance pleasing or repellent. I haven’t been doing yoga or exercise. I’m eating whatever comes to my mind or in front of me. I’m not watching my weight. I’m wasting away time watching Netflix till late hours at night. Nothing interesting or meaningful or of value. (Of course, it’s Netflix. What else you expected!? Nirvana to come to you!?)
Everything is perfect in my life right now, built to suite all my needs, whims and fancies, curated carefully to reach this state of comfort, happiness and peace. All that’s written in the book of the world, that is required for happiness, I have it. In some way or the other. And yet, I don’t want to live it any longer.
But, life doesn’t work that way. You can’t chose when to live and when to die. You can’t end it because one fine day you feel like ending it. You got to continue living it. Whether you like it or not. No, I’m not suicidal. I’m just not interested in living any more.
It’s been my state for last 2 months, I suppose. Let’s see how far and how long this goes.