How to make the most of your midlife crisis

Far from an embarrassing cliché, you should embrace the spirit of a midlife crisis, as an opportunity for change, writes Rory Kinsella.

OPINION: Motorbike? To verify. Younger girlfriend? To verify. Spiritual transformation, career change, drum kit? Check, check, check.

It wasn’t like I had decided to do it consciously, but between the ages of 35 and 40 I managed to accumulate most of the cliché symbols of a male midlife crisis.

The midlife crisis is often seen in a comedic light, with visions of bald men trying to reclaim their youth, doing things they should have long since gotten past.

But, for me, it was a milestone in life, a rite of passage that should be as worthy of being celebrated as becoming an adult or getting married.

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The Cambridge Dictionary defines midlife crisis as: “Feelings of unhappiness, worry and disappointment that some people have around 40, and which can sometimes lead them to make significant changes in their lives. “

People recognize that their life is about halfway and start to panic.

But rather than seeing it as an embarrassing setback or a distraction, we should seize this opportunity for change.

Too old to be young, too young to be old

We often think that the subject of a midlife crisis is being married and maybe stuck in a rut at work, feeling old before time and wanting to let go.

But at 35, I stubbornly cared about my youth. I hadn’t settled in, I was drinking several times a week and DJing in bars on weekends.

Instead of realizing that I had given up my youth too soon, it was rather that I had kept it too long.

I realized I didn’t want to be a 50-year-old DJ, live the weekends and spend the week like a zombie. This revelation hit on my 35th birthday. Rather than being elated by the wild party like I was before, I felt more and more self-conscious, even paranoid. I didn’t like any of the records I played, and no one else seemed to like it either.

The next day I quit DJing and smoking, even though I wasn’t quite ready to give up alcohol, and started to think about what a new version of me might look like. .

In each of the areas below, I experienced varying levels of bewilderment or questioning from friends about the changes I was making. But each had a lasting impact, still felt 10 years later.

Physical

Twenty years of smoking and not exercising has made me lose my mind as a runner – wheezing, limping and only doing a few laps of the park in my inappropriate dress shoes.

I couldn’t run for more than five minutes, but gradually improved until I completed a marathon a little over a year later.

The exercise and the endorphins it provided had a profound effect on my sense of well-being. I found that I could positively change my mood without taking anything in. It gave me the energy and optimism to make further changes.

Nine years later, running is still part of my routine as I train for my third marathon.

Quitting smoking was surprisingly easy, but it took a few more years to quit the more insidious habit of drinking. But both changes have had extremely positive effects.

Mental

After the exercise came a mental overhaul. It started with knowledge gained from personality tests such as the Enneagram, and developed into studying neurolinguistic programming and positive psychology.

I learned that I had all of these limiting beliefs that I wasn’t aware of. Things like “I can’t have fun or relax without alcohol” or “I’m too old to change careers”.

This developed into an interest in mindfulness and meditation. I learned that I was more than the sum of my thoughts, and that I could let go of them rather than spiraling like I did before.

Spiritual

The biggest change came when I discovered meditation. Back in the days when I was partying, I tried to get out of my mind in other ways, but meditation allowed me to do this without having a headache. Rather than numbing my mind, I discovered that I could go above thought into realms of silence.

I found myself much more adaptable and with mental space and energy to pursue interests outside of work, such as training to be a meditation teacher.

If a miserable alcoholic like me could make such changes through meditation, what changes could I help others make as a teacher?

From quarantine to the rest of life

We often feel social pressure to maintain consistency in our attitudes and behaviors. It’s easier for others to categorize us if we don’t change.

But if we find the courage to subvert people’s expectations and break free from the molds we have made for ourselves, we can adapt to our changing needs and desires as we age.

What would life be like if we lived like a midlife crisis every day? What if all options are on the table all the time? How would that free us?

Rory Kinsella is a Sydney-based meditation teacher and the creator of We meditate to stop alcohol