I had my midlife crisis all planned out, but apparently, my midlife crisis did not get the memo.
A few years ago, while bushhogging the cattle pasture, it occurred to me if I was going to live to be 90, then I needed to have this so-called “crisis” ASAP.
I’m sure there are those given to cliché midlife crisis scenarios. But, I’m not much of a sports car convertible person. I’ve never wanted to go skydiving. I don’t want to dress younger than my age and have no desire to party too much. I’m pretty comfortable in my pickup truck, wearing jeans and keeping my boots on the ground. Bedtime is before 9 p.m. most nights.
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But, who am I to not experience everything on the life “list.” I devised my plan. I decided I wanted more cattle and a tattoo. My husband will tell you I don’t plan much, but I was on top of this midlife crisis thing.
Suddenly, I realized my midlife crisis mounted a rear attack. It seems I got busy and forgot to have it, so it decided to have me. I have often wondered if one consciously has this “crisis”? How do you know it’s a “midlife” crisis? For that matter, how do you know you are “midlife”?
For me, all these answers came the hard way: They smacked me upside the head. You can plan all you want, but much like life and meals at my house, you get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.
So, I’m proud to announce I’ve completed my crisis. I survived cancer last year. My husband, Chris, bought me a vintage John Deere snowmobile, and I got a tattoo. Yep--it is a tiny daisy that my daughter, Emi Lou, drew, and the looping stem symbolizing the road bump of cancer is situated right over the scar from my chemo port.
I’m done living the wild life. I turned my crisis into a celebration at age 48. Bring on the next 48.
Jennifer Campbell blogs, farms and discretely sports a tiny tattoo from Indiana. Follow her on Twitter at @plowwife. Visit her website at www.farmwifefeeds.com and podcast at girlstalkagpodcast.libsyn.com.
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