Killing It In My Sixties

For the last ten years, I have jokingly said that I am having a mid-life crisis.  I mean – it most likely is about the middle of my life – and quite possibly the last third or even quarter of it!  In those years,  I have quit several jobs when I didn’t “find my bliss”,  moved to a foreign country, moved to the other end of the state, and sold everything I owned – only to start all over again.  I’ve had four different cars – although none of them a sports car or convertible.  I’ve had boyfriends, lots of first dates, and several second ones too – but nobody was “the right one”.  I even considered a younger man – in hopes of feeling one last burst of being young and desirable -but decided that I would just, ultimately be self-conscious and awkward.

I watched a new Netflix movie yesterday, Jay Kelly, with George Clooney, which chronicled his tumble into a midlife crash.  I wouldn’t say it was an Oscar-winner, but it accurately depicted him as a successful movie star facing his inevitable advancing age and all the whiplashes that come as a side dish to that bitter main course. Once a handsome romantic lead, a movie hero, an award-winning actor who had chosen a life of fame and success over the usual mundane roles in life.  As a father, he had missed one too many dance recitals, birthdays, and countless good night tuck-ins to have achieved any sort of meaningful relationship with his now-grown daughters.  And true love had evaded him despite his stunning good looks, considerable money and fame.

The viewer sees the sad realities of his career choices and watches him fall into a parallel universe looking back on some of the selfish choices he made along the way.  He reflects on the many ‘versions of himself’ that he played throughout his adult years.  He ponders which version is the real man?  A pivotal point in the film comes when he realizes that he doesn’t even know who he really is. He has played to an audience his whole existence; at times, an audience of millions and just as often – an audience of one or two.  But upon reflection he is stunned to realize – that when there is no longer an audience – WHO IS HE? The quote then flashed across the screen, “Why is it that, the hardest thing to be – is myself?”  I continued to watch the movie to its conclusion, but that quote stuck with me – so much so that I wrote it down to ponder on.

Jay Kelly was an actor and therefore playing roles was his career – and for that – he was paid handsomely. But I am not an actress and no one has EVER paid me to be the many versions of myself that I have tried on and/or out.  My sole motivation was to try to make people like me or – at the very least – to please them.  If only that had worked or that I had made money at it!  It turns out – not everybody likes me and – all the while I was busy people-pleasing – I was NOT Happy at all!  On the many occasions, when I could no longer be who I was trying to be – the real me would come bursting through the wall like the Kool-Aid pitcher-man!  I would blurt out my inner-most thoughts, jump up on a table to exclaim my truth, (or at least for a dance or two), and with little-to-no-warning – I would abandon a person, a friendship, a situation, a job, or a plan – much to the shock and surprise of other people.  What may have seemed out of character to them – was actually my real authentic self trying to emerge.

I had heard people say, “be yourself”, but I honestly didn’t know what that meant and even worse, I didn’t know who I was.  I kept trying on different personas; I would think about someone I admired and try to emulate them, their look, their achievements, their relationships, or their character.  Why couldn’t I just take a good hard look at myself and figure out who I was, what I liked, what I thought was funny, how and where I wanted to spend my time?  Through much therapy and hard self-reflection, I came to realize that I was given the message early in my life that I simply was not good enough as I was.  The stern criticism, the threats to be sent away, the not-so-subtle abandonments, and the passive-aggressive jokes and jabs all added up to my self-esteem nose-diving from a very young age.  My nicknames were ‘Chubsly’ and ‘Fatty White Cheeks’ bestowed upon me by my siblings.  Frequent threats to be sent to an orphanage were how I was sent to bed at night; my little pink Barbie suitcase packed at the foot of the bed.

Becoming someone, that people would like – was critical to my survival. I focused on studying people and what they liked in other people.  Well behaved was a given; sweet and quiet was important as was staying clean and well-dressed.  The parts of me that were unacceptable are the parts I learned to hide, or suppress.  I pretended I liked things that I didn’t. I allowed people to manipulate me into being the person that suited them, and I said yes when I should have said an emphatic NO!  I would tolerate almost anything to make people like me and not abandon me.  I married everyone that proposed to me because I honestly thought they might well be the last person to ever love me.  

So – where does all that crap get you? Absolutely nowhere – or worse – progressively into a deepening depression.  My attempts to climb out of that hole were frequently awkward attempts to tell my truths.  Every version of me that I tried on, felt awkward and more than a little scary, especially when it meant losing certain people.  Also – I was, and still am not totally good, at knowing who I really am all the time. Unfortunately, I slip back into people-pleasing and masking in an attempt to fit in.  Brutal honesty is the express ticket to authenticity. Honesty with myself and the people I interact with. The trick is to be honest but not mean. It involves a lot of thinking before acting and/or talking, and most of all it requires gentle loving care.

I am still discovering who I am, what I like and what I want.  It often requires saying No, and it inevitably asks me to ‘not care what other people think’.  I find that to be the hardest part, having spent a lifetime of definitely giving a shit what people think. I have a few mantras that I fall back on these days, like: 1) I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay, 2) Not everyone likes me – but then I don’t necessarily like everyone either, 3) Be yourself – everyone else is taken, and 4) God made me to be exactly who I am – so who am I to f*#k with it?

Who are you?