Posted by: canthold | March 25, 2008

March Funkness

I’ve never really been so speechless before. I always have something to say. Why not now? It’s probably the doldrums. My sails are out of air. The wind has stopped. A body at rest stays at rest.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been having bouts of vertigo for the last three weeks – off and on. Lately more on than off. If you haven’t had it, you don’t know what you’re missing. Well, maybe you do. Ever drink too much and get the spins? It’s sort of like that except that you can’t put your foot on the floor to stop it. (I know, I’ve tried.) And sometimes the spells last for a long time. And sometimes I’m not even home when they happen. That really sucks, let me tell you.

There is a comic that I read pretty regularly. I like the comics. While they’re not always funny, they can breathe a bit of relief into the sad/bad news in the paper. Anyway, it’s Sally Forth. Someone asks the husband in the strip if he’s having a midlife crisis. He replies, “But I’m only 40.” I should have clipped it out. It’s too true. It dawned on me after reading it that my rut is something like a midlife crisis.

I need a project, a cause, a job – something to be passionate about. As the different things that light my fire pass before my eyes, I realize that I’m stuck in some sticky goo keeping me from running away with my ideas. Like a crisis. In midlife. A midlife crisis, if you will.

All I know about this is that usually two things cure it. An affair with a hot blond or a new sports car. Both of these are out of the question. I’m not a good enough liar to have an affair. Besides, I have too much to lose. My family would be crushed and that wouldn’t be worth it. The car doesn’t work for me either since I’m too practical. After all, what kind of sexy sports car would fit a family of four or even two car seats at best? Not going to happen. Besides, I love my car.

I could write another novel. I could write another screenplay. Both of these are mapped out in my head and wouldn’t be too difficult to execute. I could get my house organized. I could start sending away for rejection letters, I mean, freelance writing. I could scrub down my cabinets. Or build something. Or sew. Or take a nap. Or clean my kitchen.

The possibilities are truly endless. And I don’t want to do any of them. At least right now. When is midlife over? Or is the question, when does end-life begin? And if 50 is the new 40, am I not in a midlife crisis after all, but more like a late March funk?

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Responses

  1. I think it’s a late March funk, because I’m having one too. I just can’t seem to get motivated to do anything, especially not laundry and dishes and vacuuming.

    And I get vertigo a couple of times a year. It’s awful!

  2. My sympathies about your vertigo. I can’t think of anything worse. In fact, I’d rather give birth to ten kids naturally than have it ever again. Of course, I don’t know what I’d do with the kids!

    I would think that spring’s arrival would bring some sort of renewal of energy and spirit. But instead, it feels like an end of winter slump with summer so far out of reach as to be a distant dream.


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