The first “midlife crisis” I ever witnessed (though I was clueless at the time) happened around 1975, when I was fifteen. My best friend’s dad, a jolly-big fellow and friend to my whole family, suffered a heart attack, went off to some big-city hospital for what seemed like forever, and came back a trim, tanned Mr. Groovy. I’m sure I gaped to see this “old” family friend, a guy no cooler than my own dad, decked out like all the young dudes, in turtleneck, bell-bottoms, even a goatee. Suddenly I understood what people meant when they said, “You look like a million bucks!”

But what really screamed midlife crisis (especially as I look back on it now) was his sweet new ride. Surprised? Of course you’re not. It was one of those souped-up custom vans, all shiny chrome on the outside and blush burgundy accoutrements within. Tongues did wag, of course, but who really cared? Certainly not the guy behind the wheel. He was alive, by God, and he was going to live it up while he still could.

Make Mine the Classic, with Everything, Please

Believe it or not, the midlife crisis was originally the domain of creative geniuses. At least, that’s who social scientist Dr. Elliott Jacques was writing about when he coined the phrase in a 1965 research paper. A decade later, about the time Mr. Groovy wheeled into my hometown, Gail Sheehy recast the phrase more broadly in her bestselling book Passages.

A generation later, midlife crises are so common as to be cliché, but, come on! That’s no reason not to have one. Could be you’re long overdue for a complete makeover, replete with wardrobe revolution, your first tattoo, and a much sportier ride. This Way is like a get-out-of-jail-free-card, a hall pass for grown-ups stamped “Why not? Everybody’s doing it!” Should you prefer to buck the trend, stay the course, and do nothing rash, I respect you for that. But the midlife crisis is your ticket to ride, my friend, not just new wheels, but entirely new vistas, new spiritual paths, possibly even new career paths. So take the card, already!

Time is Flying, Friends are Dying

Midlife crises are an easy target for parody, but let me be clear: true crisis is no synonym for fun. What with the fear and the pain that come with crises, any one of us would be a plumb-fool idiot to go looking for one. And yet! When a big, bad something barges into your life unbidden, what other choice do you have but to deal with it?

I took in a lecture by theologian and author Matthew Fox in the early 1990s, shortly after his silencing by the Vatican ended, and he drew a word image that stays with me still: “Too many of us want to tiptoe around the Valley of the Shadow of Death,” he said, to a big, knowing laugh. Of course! Who wouldn’t rather snake along a narrow (but not too narrow), rocky (but not too rocky) ledge, high above the fray, and never, ever have to experience the pain, the sorrow, the gnashing of teeth?

Of course, life’s not like that. Sometimes there’s no ledge whatsoever. Or what tiny ledge there is, you can’t get there from here, at least not before total chaos reigns.

The best advice I can offer is to just keep breathing, to take good care of yourself, and to accept people’s offers of help. A crisis moment is no time to go hide yourself away, whether in fear or with prideful stoicism; it’s a time to reach out, to connect, to take advantage of the fact that you are not alone.

Oh, and keep telling yourself, with the wisdom of Friedrich Nietzsche: “This is bound to make me stronger.”

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