When I was in my thirties, I remember some of the forty-year-olds at work talking about getting older. They would talk about how their metabolism had slowed, how their hair was thinning, how youth was wasted on the young. And they would sort of give each other those knowing looks that seemed to say “Hang in there” or “It’ll be alright.” I chalked up this overheard confiding to a kind of bonding over Prufrockian misery.
And as I approached forty, I remembered these earlier rumblings and grumblings and tried to prepare myself for this new phase of life. I decided that I would simply accept that my body would start to slowly show its mileage. There might be new aches and pains. Certain aspects of my appearance might start to droop. I would have nostalgia, but things would be basically the same as they had been.
What I didn’t anticipate and what nobody bothered to mention was the increased responsibility that comes from this time of life. It seems that the forties are not just the middle of the average lifespan, they are the middle of everything. Not only am I responsible for my kids, but as I’ve gotten more and more job experience, I am responsible for more and more things at work. Not only that, as my parents have gotten older and experienced some health problems, I’ve taken on more responsibility for some of the things they used to do. And not only that, it seems that, my church community values the life experience of its mid-life parishioners and puts us in positions of leadership which, you guessed it, adds another layer onto the now Dagwood-sized sandwich of responsibility that threatens to teeter over at any minute.
And it’s not just me who is experiencing this. When I talk with my middle-aged friends, they talk about the same stresses, the same pile of responsibility. We swap stories, compare notes, and if we see someone in their thirties listening in, we try not to talk about it too loud. After all, why burden them with the specter of the future? Let the kids enjoy life.
I read somewhere that they call this time of life “the bridge years,” and I think that label is apt. I do find myself in the middle of quite a bit of traffic, and I do sometimes get the feeling that, if I collapse, a lot of people are going to go spilling into the river with me.
I think having involved kids is a kind of unique pressure because they always have to be somewhere at every moment. Between piano lessons and swim team and soccer practice and school and church, it’s a wonder that we can find fifteen minutes in any given week to eat together as a family. Perhaps my family is simply busier than it should be, but if that’s true, then most of the people I know who have kids my age are equally overcommitted. Still, I’m glad the kids have extra-curricular activities. I think sports and music provide unique learning opportunities and are important components of a classical education.
And, honestly, I’m thankful for the responsibilities because each responsibility represents a unique opportunity to grow and to serve my fellow human. What better way to spend one’s time?
But I would be lying if I didn’t mention that it is sometimes a real pain in the neck to feel so responsible for everything. It’s a little frightening, too, because most of the time I’m not sure I’m smart enough or talented enough to meet the tasks that life is handing me. And then I think about other middle aged people whose responsibilities make mine look like a Sunday picnic. I think of our president and my surgeon friend and my priest and so many others whose bridges are so much wider than mine, and I’m amazed that they have the strength to do anything after holding up the weight of the world.
So, when I’m late to another soccer practice and feeling the strain of my responsibilities, I try to remember that other people have much heavier burdens, and I try to remember that these burdens are not so bad, really. After all, lifting weight makes one stronger over time. Besides, what would I be doing if I wasn’t pushing code to production or picking up my daughter from piano lessons or helping my son with math?
I’d probably be watching TV, and really there’s not much on that’s worth watching these days.