I can’t say for certain whether these psychological changes are directly related to my age. My 30s also coincide with parenthood, my growing struggles with anxiety, and what might be a midlife crisis. But my experience with, well, everything has certainly changed these past few years. On some level, you could say that’s always been true. With protagonist disease firmly in place, we always think that now is the most profound time in our lives.
Remember how important you thought high school was at the time? In hindsight, it didn’t really matter if so-and-so didn’t ask you out or if you didn’t get the grade you wanted on a certain test. By the same accord, your 20s were surely filled with all sorts of life changes too. But your 30s… clearly your 30s are what really matter, right? Well, at least until you hit your 40s. Regardless, here I am, and I’m going to take a moment for introspection.
Desire for Predictability
I talked about this a bit when discussing the hidden ways my anxiety manifests itself. Whereas I used to be more of a “go with the flow” kind of guy (or at least I like to think I was), these days I engage much more in obsessive planning, scouting and research. It’s not that I care more, per se; it’s that I have to know everything ahead of time. Predictability tempers my anxiety.
Oh, we’re going to such-and-such a restaurant? Let me look up the menu online so I can decide ahead of time what I’m going to order. But, before I do that, let me look it up in Google Maps so I can plan the route. Of course, I’ve got to use Street View to scout out any free parking too. Can I zoom in on that street sign for any parking restrictions?
In my 30s, I’ve developed a much greater desire for control over the situation. And then I get incredibly irritable when things don’t go exactly as planned. Maybe we’re going to a different restaurant now, or the parking information I found is outdated, or the reservation has been bumped by half an hour. It could be anything.
Constant Rumination
See that obsession over pre-planning? It spills over into other areas of my life too. I’ve come to recognize that I participate frequently in brooding behavior. As far as psychological changes go, rumination might be the most harmful. It’s a real problem, mostly because it’s so hard to break the pattern.
I can feel like I’m not enough. Not enough as a professional, not enough as a parent, not enough as a spouse… and brooding over these sorts of negative thoughts — I certainly recognize them as negative thoughts on an intellectual level — over serves to fan the flames. So, I ruminate more on ruminating. This leads to guilt, regret, and thoughts of what could have been if I had chosen differently somewhere along the way.
Persistent Fatigue
Regardless of the amount of sleep I get each night, I always wake up tired. And I stay tired all day. You might not include tiredness among psychological changes, as you might think it’s purely physical. But, consider this. Both physical and mental energy levels affect everything that you do. Fatigue, particularly decision fatigue, whittles away at your ability to resist temptation. It eats away at your ability to stay focused or to remain steadfast.
So, I cave. I eat unhealthy snacks or I’m not as productive as I can be during the third shift. And this lends itself back to the previous point about rumination, as I brood over how weak-willed I may have become. The vicious cycle is exhausting.
From Aspiration to Resignation
I feel like I’m already an old man. It’s too late for me now. Where I am now, both literally and figuratively, is the only place I can be. Dreaming big is for young folks, those bright-eyed kids fresh out of college with stars in their eyes. They’ve got their whole life ahead of them. Me? Things are as they are (which isn’t to say that they’re bad), so I may as well learn to embrace them as they are. It’s time to slow down.
Rather than aspiring to achieve great things, I’m resigned to accepting my circumstances. Of course, intellectually, I know this isn’t true at all. Even if this is some sort of midlife crisis, I’ve still got a whole second half to do something. Samuel L. Jackson didn’t get his big break until he was 43. Momofuku Ando didn’t invent instant noodles until he was almost 50. Colonel Harland Sanders didn’t franchise KFC until he was 62.
Discomfort With Nothing
Maybe this is just expressing the first of these psychological changes, but in a different kind of way. Or maybe it’s a fundamentally different thing altogether. It feels like it’s not quite the same thing.
When I was younger, I could be perfectly satisfied with doing nothing. I could “waste” an evening away with mindless channel surfing. These days, choosing to do nothing makes me terribly uncomfortable. I reach for my phone out of reflex (perhaps less of an option in my earlier years). I can’t do nothing, because I have to do something.
Whether the “something” has to do with work, with the house, with the kid… there’s always something to do and I feel horribly guilty if I don’t make the “most” of my time. Indeed, I’m typing up this paragraph when I’m supposed to be on vacation. After all, I’ve got a few minutes, right?
A Decade of Change
In my 20s, I looked back at my teenage years and cringed. In my 30s, I look back at my 20s and I can see just how easy I had it, just how naive I was. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where this is headed. With my 40s just around the river bend, it won’t be long before I look back at my 30s and shake my head.
Until then, my experience is real to me. And taking the time to acknowledge and identify these psychological changes could be the first step toward something better. After all, I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me, right?
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