Updated: Jun 3, 2020
This must be a ‘mid-midlife’ crisis. From other's perspectives I went through a midlife crisis a few years ago. Nope. That was certainly a crisis. That was me running for my life. Seem dramatic? You weren’t there. Not a midlife crisis. Fleeing from physical danger to safety is an intrinsically different predicament.
This, however. This. Yowza. It’s like every person that comes into my life is holding a key that unlocks trauma. It’s as if my mind is searching for reasons to purge the trauma whether I'm ready or not. It’s not a trickle, either. It’s a flood. It’s a tsunami. It’s every cell. Every synapse. If I’m not careful it’ll take me.
I understand the sports cars, the affairs, the career changes, major life upheaval. Anything to escape this. Facing myself, all of myself, is horrific. All the skeletons and demons that were hiding in my organs, biding their time, have burst forth dragging my entrails with them. I’m left watching films of long forgotten traumas while my body screams through my pores and I gather my strewn body parts trying to sew them back into place; not even sure I know where everything goes.
A crisis of survival. A meeting at the crossroads collecting my soul from the devils. Regaining my worth. Confronting the past and opening the possibilities of future. A crisis of potential.
Image Description: Photograph of sunbeams through leaves and branches of a tree faded in background. "Regaining my worth. A crisis of potential." Artist watermark: Heroes and Art