Rush Hour Epiphany

I Facebooked about a mid-life epiphany I had on the way to work this morning. I’m sitting there in my truck in bumper to bumper traffic less than a mile from my house. The sun is coming in my front window at an annoying angle so blindingly that it’s exacerbating an already ruthless rush hour. And as I’m sitting there, the thought runs through my head, “This is it? This is fricking it?”

I’ve had thoughts like this before, so this isn’t new, but they’re happening more frequently. And as these thoughts go through my head (today’s helped along by listening to Bryan Adams’ “Summer of 69” on the radio and pondering all the things that song COULD mean), I think back and realize that my whole life has been pretty blah.

Oh sure, I had flashes of brilliance—some really great girlfriends, the promise of adventure and travel in the military, some really great jobs that I blew off for one (perfectly valid) reason or the other. But in the end, instead of being “there,” I am here.

I accept partial blame. I’m NOT a risk-taker. I’m not a money spender. I’m comfortable being comfortable and that’s a dangerous thing to look back on when you’re in your late thirties and you see how rote your days have become. I’m SO looking forward to Christmas this year largely because it’s something to get excited about. Certainly dragging ass into the office isn’t doing it for me. My marriage is fine, if unexciting. My kids are full of excitement, but I just can’t keep up with them and everything else my boring life, house, job, marriage requires.

But, giving myself credit here, I have no hankering for a flashy red sports car, and while a mistress might spice things up for a while, I’m too averse to the risk that comes with that kind of dalliance.

As I write this, the responses to my Facebook post roll in and they run the gamut of, “Only you can change it,” to “unless you move to a farm and become self-sufficient…suck it up!”

Ah, the wisdom of the masses…