I realize that I’m a little old for a quarter life crisis and a bit too young for a mid-life crisis, yet I feel this sudden urge to flip my world upside down. Is there such a thing as a one-third life crisis? If so, I think I may be having one.
I want to throw out my professional wardrobe and replace it with cheetah print tights and tie-dye t-shirts. Donate my pumps to Goodwill and replace them with studded boots. Tear the conservative art from the walls and repaint them in a bold, eye-piercing color. Replace my comfy, well-worn couch with something modern, impractical, and likely very incommodious to adequate lumbar support.
This morning, I put pink streaks into my hair. We’re talking bubblegum and fuschia, people. This coming from the girl who has been the exact same shade of blond for over a decade. Crazy, eh?
Last weekend, I ran in the Savage Race, something I would have fled screaming and crying just a few months ago. I flaunted my mud-soaked clothes and battered feet right along with the medal I received at the finish line. My husband was at a loss for words; God bless him for his patience with me as I hosed off so I could get in the car.
I haven’t decided what I’m doing this weekend, but I’m sure it will be spontaneous, immature, and possibly a little bit reckless. Maybe I’ll pierce something.
Nah, probably not. I’m pretty satisfied with the number of holes in my body at the present moment. But it’s a thought for the future.
I’m not sure what motivated me to enter this stage in my life. Perhaps I fear growing older and this is my way of clinging to my youth? Or, more likely, I’m trying to recapture those wild and crazy years of teenage indiscretion, as I was always very “mature for my age” and I opted for studying over partying for most of high school and college.
Or… perhaps the inner artist in me is finally breaking through to the surface. After nearly two years in school for creative writing and taping into my long-neglected right brain, perhaps I’ve finally become the artsy person I hoped to be. The person I didn’t think it was possible to be.
I no longer wish to fit into the mold. I do not crave order and structure as much as I did before. In fact, I find myself reveling in the chaos and disorder I occasionally allow to infiltrate my life. It’s a very freeing feeling.
There is a chance that this isn’t a permanent change in me. It may very well be a stage I’m going through, and a few weeks [or months or years down the road], I may color over the magenta streaks and really question my initial motivation for doing it. Perhaps the wool blazer I’ve moved to the back of my closet will resurface as my favorite piece down the road, loved for it’s conservative cut and neutral tones when the vibrant pinks and violent purples have long since been removed. Who knows what my future holds?
All I can say is…if this is a 1/3rd life crisis, I’m enjoying the ride. Every day I wake up, I surprise myself with a new thought or impulsive decision. I’ve become an enigma, even to myself, and it’s an exciting and ever-changing experiment in social interaction for me.
Perhaps it’s time for a sports car and a new tattoo.
Nahhhh. I’ll stick with writing some poetry.
But it’s food for thought.
Crisis of optimism,
~ Victoria Elizabeth Ann