Almost half my life ago, I had a mid-life crisis. It was epic. It was so epic that nothing would be as epic as that epic crisis of unforeseen epic-ness. It was all about not knowing who I was and where I was headed and what I wanted out of life, and obviously at the same time, being singularly unhappy with where and who and what I was at the moment I turned 25 (it was so epic that 30 and forty were both ‘just another birthday’).So, I sat myself down and gave myself a long hard talking to. Being a Gemini, I am rather good at this kind of internal conversation, and no, I don’t always win an argument with myself (note my impressive segue to the Post Every Day in May post that I didn’t do yesterday…Gemini, take the good bits, ignore the bad bits – stars this morning indicated I should deal with a ‘niggle’ before it became a full blown irritation. Like, you know, neglecting personal challenges such as this. And after only four days, too.) Anyway, I’m digressing a bit. As Geminis are wont to do. Ahem.
Long hard talking to myself lead me to work out what I didn’t like about my life (everything), what I needed to change (ditto), what I could actually change (as distinct from the fundamental personality flaws that I would have to accept and work around) and I gave myself a time frame in which to do it. I had a Five Year Plan. At the end of the five years, there was only one thing on my list that wasn’t either completed or in progress, and I spent the next ten or so years completing the bulk of the list. Plan, man!
Fast forward another ten or so years and I’m giving the side eye to another milestone birthday in a year or so – maybe if I have a ten year plan, I might actually avert the potential for another Epic Birthday Crisis next year?
So, where do I see myself in another ten years time?
Not retired, that’s for sure. Even before Ole Tone decided we could slave for wages until we were 70, I never really saw myself being the kind of person who’d be hanging up the heels at 60 (or 65 even – I may downgrade to sensible shoes) and settle down to a nice, quiet life in my rocking chair. I come from reasonably long lived stock – the laydeez have had a tendency to live for at least five years longer than their mothers – so if I did happen to retire at sixty (yes, I’m turning fifty next year. Sigh. Denial is not just a river in Egypt), I could potentially spend 30 or more years in retirement, wandering about being a menace to society. What with my short attention span…fair opportunity for a bit of menacing, I give you the tip.
So, ten years time, the Wee Ferals will hopefully be on their way to their future selves, both through high school at least. My family will flux and change – if I’m getting on a bit, so are they, and I’m an only child with all the extra responsibility that entails. I’ll still be working, We’ll be renovating a bus or something like that, so that we can wander off and explore the Great Wide Land (and Tasmania, I’ve never been there before) and do a bit of free range menacing on holidays. And maybe I’ll cross off that one last thing from the Epic 25 Year old list? Nah… I might leave that til the 75 year old crisis.