It’s not a mid-life crisis, it’s a liberation!

I’ve always joked that if my husband has a mid-life crisis and leaves me, I’ll kill him. It has always seemed like an unforgivable offence – some crazy hormonal phase that turns people from normal functioning adults into leather jacket-wearing, tattoo-bearing, Porsche drivers (bit like Ian Beale did in 2009 – anyone else remember that?)

And believe me, from someone who’s father walked out due to what seemed like a mid-life crisis, I get it! These things happen.

Recently though, I’ve realised that I am going through what people may well refer to as a ‘phase’ and I don’t think there is anything crazy about it. I don’t feel like I am having a crisis, I don’t feel like I am going off the rails – I am just realising that this is my life and it is about time I start living it.

At 35 I wouldn’t exactly call myself middle-aged, but I am definitely at an age where I have stopped caring what other people think about me and the choices I make in life. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for the clothes I wear or the way I style my hair (I feel like I need to start singing Independent Women by Destiny’s Child right now…) because I am my own person.

Remembering me

So, these last few months I have started looking inward, thinking about what makes me happy but also reflecting on the things that used to make me happy before marriage & motherhood.

Such things included…

Singing along at the top of my voice to power ballads (hello Celine Dion)

Eyeshadow (brighter the better)

Reading cheesy romance novels – you know, like the free ones you’d get with magazines.

Monster Munch (need I say more?)

Blinging myself up with jewellery

Dancing – specifically being the first one on the dancefloor

Wearing high heels

Reality TV

Dying my hair – red was always a fave!

I mean there are more things but you get the idea, right? These things once made me happy but becoming a responsible adult meant most, of not all, slowly slipped away. And honestly, that has made me feel like I have been letting myself down.

Not that I want to suddenly start going clubbing in heels and bright blue eyeshadow but I would be doing a disservice to myself if I ignored the things that truly made me me once upon a time.

Becoming me

A couple of weeks ago I had my ear pierced, right up in the cartilage. My mum is yet to see it but I can tell you now she will freak out! I can’t wait! Childish? Maybe. But actually having it done was liberating. My body, my choice. It was something I always wanted done but other people and their opinions stopped me from doing it.

It hurt like hell but it didn’t hurt anyone else – so why did I wait so long? Why have I been holding back from being who I want to be for fear of letting others down. Why haven’t I been more concerned with letting myself down?

I am determined to become more me, a happier freer* me.

So if you are feeling like you have lost your way & forgotten who you used to be, make a list and start making moves to find her again. She isn’t forgotten, shes just buried under the identity you thought you had to assume.

*had to google the spelling of that but apparently, it is right – who knew?