When people talk about the phenomenon of the mid-life crisis, what typically comes to mind is a late-forties white man cashing out his RRSPs to buy a red Mustang and filing for divorce to hook up with a younger woman. This stereotypical notion is so prevalent that even Wikipedia has an entry about it. Growing up and well into adulthood, I thought the mid-life crisis was a myth generated by Hollywood, and, like so many other things, we had mistakenly bought into it. Then my hormones kicked into high gear and wreaked havoc on my system, shattering all of my preconceived ideas about what it was like to live in your forties and to actually be in mid-life.
The only thing was, it looked so different for me than the stereotype that at first I didn't put it together. Even now it's difficult for me to parse out what my midlife issues are, what my responses to trauma are, and what's just reflective of the normal demands of 21st century family life. What I do know is that Danny's stroke was a pivot point, where all the difficult emotions, anxiety, stress, and uncertainty I was feeling were magnified a hundred times and my mind went tumbling off a cognitive cliff. I remember the exact moment that this happened. I had rushed into Emergency to meet Danny's ambulance, and the nurse at triage told me she couldn't find him. She told me I'd have to identify my husband. Yes, this actually happened. Do you remember the scene in The Force Awakens (that's Star Wars Episode VII) where Han Solo meets Kylo Ren, all optimistic and determined to coax him away from the dark side? Then Kylo Ren stabs him through the heart and Han Solo tumbles off an impossibly high bridge into a scary abyss? That's what happened in my brain as I was standing there in Emergency trying to find my husband; my brain was Han Solo, devastated, falling into a ravine with no bottom.
Fairly quickly after this, I learned that when you mix female middle age or peri-menopause with trauma, you get depression. Trauma aside, middle aged women experience increased risk of depressive symptoms and a clinical diagnosis even if they've never had an issue with depression before (Li, Shu, Wang, & Li, 2017; Mulhall, Andel, & Anstey, 2018). Midlife depression causes women to feel significantly decreased self confidence, to have difficulty building relationships, to question their notions of self, and to experience heightened levels of physical and emotional suffering. While it can materialize as sadness, more often female depression at this age emerges as anger, frustration, disconnection, and a feeling of hopelessness or apathy. Many researchers claim that this is significant enough to warrant becoming a public health priority (Accortt, Freeman, & Allen, 2008). So isn't it interesting that no one seems to talk about it?
After Danny's stroke I was walking around like a husk of myself, a zombie. I had been attempting to arrange a leave of absence from work on compassionate grounds and was making no headway; the woman from campus health suggested that I see my family doctor for a diagnosis instead. Diagnosis for what, I thought to myself. Even though I was super agitated, irritated all the time, and shouted at everyone, I had no idea that I was experiencing depression. I walked into my doctor's office full of indignation and spite, only to be informed after multiple assessments that I was moderately to severely depressed. I needed an intervention.
It's long been acknowledged that levels of misery in life peak for both men and women in middle age, but I believe (and evidence backs this up) that women get the shortest end of the stick. No wonder I'm midway through a crisis of confidence that has completely upended me. No wonder I'm thinking obsessively about what significance means in the context of my life. No wonder I'm questioning my decisions and my life's pathway. It's actually no surprise at all. In a way I feel relieved because it's all been normalized a bit. But, I'm still stuck in a place of ambiguity and unease when I'd much rather be consistently feeling fulfillment or even joy.
It's slowly getting better, and I'm feeling better, as I unpack significance through this project. But what about all of the other women out there, the ones who don't have the luxury of spending half a year with their thoughts? Middle aged women, this one's for you. Somehow we need to talk about this more, outside the confines of our friend-group conversations with wine and appetizers. What could we do to make a difference for more of us?
Comentários