Midlife Muscle Car
Last night I set out to buy a practical, dependable family car but came home with a red hot sexy muscle car instead. Whoops! As I sat signing a dead body's weight worth of paperwork I suddenly sat up straight in my chair. OH MY GOD WAIT A MINUTE AM I HAVING A MIDLIFE CRISIS??
And then I thought, NO. For the last few years I've actually been moving away from crisis. I've been moving away from drama and bedlam and insanity. At least the kind of crisis and drama and bedlam and insanity I can create by myself. I have been taking risks. I have been stepping out to the edge. I have gone dancing and jumped off the high dive. I have written a book and helped found a press and started wearing tank tops no matter what my underarms look like. These have all been creative risks. Life giving. Hopeful. Maybe, I thought last night, I'm having a midlife breakthrough rather than a midlife crisis.
A mentor of mine once told me that sometimes following your dream is actually the most practical thing you can do. It capitalizes on your strengths and draws on the fuel of your natural passions. Then again another friend gave me a magnet that sticks to my fridge years later: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.
Yes. I am terrible at math. But I'm also getting better at following my heart. And I'm hoping one at least mostly cancels out the other. Because boy do I feel like a badass rockstar cowgirl middle aged wife and mother in my shiny cherry red 2014 Dodge Hot Damn Charger.