Mid-Life Crisis or Mid-Life CRAZY?

Ah, the dreaded mid-life crisis.  I thought when I hit forty, I’d see evidence of it sprouting up like fresh shoots of spring grass (or like the hair above my lip – where on earth did that come from?).  The guy around the corner surely would be the first to park a cherry red Corvette in his driveway.  The woman up the street most definitely would be the first to get a boob job.  Or at least Botox.  Something more than monthly highlights.  But so far, and perhaps to my disappointment, there’s been nothing – no obvious, desperate attempts to cling to youth.

Instead, I’ve seen more subtle signs of mid-life upheaval. Scratch that.  I’m being too kind.  The fact is, previously sane friends and acquaintances appear to be losing their minds.  Acting crazy.  Behaving like frat boys, or cliquish mean girls, or both, simultaneously.  Gossip.  Judgment.  Narcissism that knows no bounds.

What the hell is going on here?   Are these people really crazy, or is it just me?  This is my space to vent, play the armchair psychoanalyst, and complain about my newest wrinkle and latest defeat at the hands of gravity.  Join me for the ride into the mid-life crazies.  We may not come out the other side any more sane, but at least we’ll have some laughs along the way.