My Middle Age Morale Problem
My life isn’t worse than it used to be; the problem is that I don’t have as much hope.
As a new adult in my 20s, things weren’t easy. I needed to establish my independent life with a job I at least liked while still in the grip of my mother’s needs. But as lost as I often felt, I had faith I’d figure things out.
My 30s weren’t as much better as I’d hoped. I changed careers a couple of times, and after years of moodiness and feeling easily sunk by setbacks, I received a diagnosis of depression. It was actually a relief because now that my struggle had a name I could get treatment and the grayness receded. I had hope that my 40s would be the decade I’d hit my stride. Yeah, that’s when I’d get everything in place and find contentment.
I was right. My 40s were great. I finally found a man I could commit to and I became a wife at the age of 41. We settled into a comfortable routine, enjoying morning coffee and evening chats, going on day trips and vacations, and were happily compatible on day-to-day habits and decisions. My mood still went up and down, but I had most things in place and achieved what was for me a consistent…
