It was the great psychologist, Carl Jung who observed that: “Life really does begin at 40. Up until then, you are just doing research.”
Of course, life today is not what it was in his time, and throughout human history there have been generational differences in both our bodies and how we live. Middle age is variously described as the period between 40 and 60, 45 and 65, 40 and 65 years of age or several combinations of similar numbers. People age at different rates, so the actual period of middle age is different for each person. About the age of forty is when most people are settled in their careers, which these days can mean several stops and starts, as well as detours.
At this stage of life, people know themselves better and many, if they could, would choose a role that gives them some self-value over just the ‘rat-race’ or climbing the ‘ladder of success’. These days these career stages exist in fewer places than they did before. For women, the issue of marriage and motherhood if wanted, but not settled by this time, brings with it the anxiety of permanent spinsterhood, or the worry that ‘time is running out’ for fertility issues. Additionally, some may fear that menopause may just be round the corner.
Jokes are made about people having a ‘midlife crisis’ but this is more like self- evaluation and an inclination towards, or preference for, the things that one truly values. So, people who are unhappy in marriage may about this time decide to call it a day; those who fancy red sports cars may decide to buy one. Women may ‘discover themselves’ with younger men friends and spouses, and emotionally unstable or immature men may run off with their blonde secretaries, leaving wives and children behind. Stereo- types like these catch our attention because the media thrive in the exotic and unusual; but in truth, these cases are statistically few and far between.
In my own case, my body started to speak after I turned 40. I did not hear it speak before this time, or if it did, I did not pay attention. Then suddenly I started to hear it loud and clear and could no longer ignore its voice.
First it demanded sleep. I didn’t know before this that the body could demand things. Through university I could get by, skimping on sleep. I could party all weekend and still turn up in class on Monday morning. Well, maybe on those occasions my concentration was less than optimum; or I had a fuzzy head or even a headache; but I did not sleep in class. And so, it continued for many years afterwards.
Then, I discovered that if I stayed up late at night for whatever reason, I would find myself struggling the next day. I might doze a little at important meetings or not pay proper attention when I was supposed to listen to important matters. My head would feel heavy, and I might occasionally feel incoherent like some drunk. Once or twice while driving, I dozed off at the wheel. That was scary! I had to pay attention.
Then I made another discovery. If the sleep deprivation took place mid-week and I coasted along till the weekend, by that time I would be unable to keep my eyes open. The eyelids would just become weighted with lead. This would occur at any place: in church, in a theatre or even just sitting down at home. A friend of about the same age described experiencing the same phenomenon. In his own case he actually became ill and had to rest for two weeks on ‘off duty’ imposed by a doctor’s prescription with no particular disease diagnosed except what the doctor termed ‘nervous exhaustion’. I wasn’t having that, not by any stretch of the imagination. So, I began to pay more attention to my body.
I liked to exercise, usually running or jogging. Now out of the blue I became more prone to exercise-related injury. I twisted a tendon in my hand when I swiped a mosquito. After running or jogging, the whole body would ache more than usual and for much longer. This affected the muscles and the joints, but especially the joints. I stopped running and took to walking instead. I felt better. The aches and pains disappeared, and I started to enjoy walking.
While walking on several routes I previously jogged on, I noted nice sceneries and plants which would just pop up from nowhere. Wayside flowers and shrubs sprouted overnight, as did occasional nice buildings, and different coloured birds. If I was out early in the morning, the birds would be singing! I started noticing things I didn’t notice before, and the more I looked, the more I saw. Walking became very enjoyable as a transformation occurred within me. I no longer missed the jogging; I actually enjoyed the walks and missed them whenever I could not get out to walk.
I found that I needed reading glasses when I ran out of hands to extend. Apparently, I had gradually been extending my hands or in other ways putting distances between me and the material to be read over the previous few years. I was totally unaware that I was doing this. Then one day I could not read something, even with hands fully extended. I thought it just happened at that moment. But household members had observed what I had been doing for some time in silent amusement.
Then one friend announced that he had developed diabetes; another had high blood pressure, and a third had both disorders, all within a period of six months. About the same time some people about my age started to die, all with no, or only after very short, illness. These were neither soldiers nor those involved in accidents, but fit healthy people, like me. I had one or two brushes with death myself: not with illness but with near motor accidents.
There was a spate of sudden deaths among young and middle-aged men we knew who were in their 30s and 40s. Visiting the young widows with the young children who were left behind by these deaths, rattled. Previously although I did not express it, I had believed somewhere inside of me that death was for other people, not for me. Now people like me were dying, without any warning. Suddenly I felt vulnerable; I realised I was not immortal. I had come of age.
Welcome to middle age.
