A Pirate Looks at Forty

Unlike the character in the above named song by Jimmy Buffett, I have never had a desire to sail upon blue ocean waters. I’ve never made a fortune smuggling marijuana, nor felt as if I were a pirate born two centuries too late. At no point in my life have I gone on a two-week bender or moved in with a younger woman.

My life doesn’t resemble that of the character in this song. But at forty-five years of age, I understand the spirit of the song in a way I never believed I would.

Since I was young I heard stories of men suffering through the clichéd “mid-life crisis.” To be blunt, I always assumed it was hogwash – nothing more than an excuse to run away from the responsibilities one had assumed over time, often by default. Only selfish or weak-willed men had thoughts of walking away from job, family or church.

Then one day I woke up, and realized that at a certain point a man looks at his life, and questions literally everything about it. How did I arrive at this place, and where am I going from here? What about all of those absolutes that seemed so solid yesterday, and today look a little more transparent?

I think my journey into this new phase of life began when my father passed away almost two years ago. Like anyone else, I intellectually understood death. But until Dad died, I never quite grasped the full scope of mortality. I have spent a great deal of time thinking about it, and that process has taken me from fear of dying to wishing for death, and finally to a calm acceptance of my own mortality.

It helps when one has a measure of faith, and a hope of life eternal. But even the faith that carries one through life’s challenges is not immune from the nagging questions of mid-life. In some ways that has been the toughest part of this unwilling pilgrimage into another stage of existence.

My faith is an important part of who I am. Questioning God about my purpose and existence is a relatively new thing for me. It’s unsettling at best, and downright frightening at worst. But I suppose in a way, an untested faith is no faith at all. And I have no doubt that at the end of this process, God will be there. After all, scripture does remind us that God is able to make us stand, in spite of the difficulties we so often face.

The most painful aspect of the experience to this point has been the change in my emotional state. I have always taken pride in my ability to rein in my emotions, and think and act rationally. I have, for more than 25 years completely rejected the notion that one should follow his heart. Part of that reasoning is the result of some hard-learned lessons of life, but even common sense dictates that your heart will lead you into places that your head can’t get you out of.

Imagine my shock and dismay upon learning that suddenly my heart was demanding I take a whole new look at life. Every day now I see things differently. I’ve felt the heartstrings tug me in directions I’ve never been interested in moving. I thank God that in spite of those tugs, I’ve fought the desire to follow my heart. I can at least think clearly enough to see that the best path is still the one of service and responsibility.

So now I feel like I’m on the last downhill slope of what has been a two-year rollercoaster ride. This is the first time I’ve felt like writing in a while, and perhaps that’s a sign of some return to normalcy -- that is, to the extent that I have ever been normal.

So, where to go from here? I’ve made new friends as a part of this journey, and they probably know a lot more about me than I would have been comfortable with in the past. But I have a tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve, and that has its benefits as well as drawbacks. At least your new friends know what their getting.

One final word of advice to you men who haven’t yet had your world turned upside-down: Don’t keep your feelings to yourself. Talk to friends, family and those who share your faith. Be open and ask for their support. A mid-life crisis is a life-changing experience. Don’t let it be a change for the worse.