Publisher’s Desk: Mid-life Crisis?

I feel I am in the midst of a mid-life crisis. How would I know? What does a mid-life crisis look like for a gay guy?

I have never been one to be caught up on aging. My whole life I have spoken out against any fight against it. I was a believer in nature’s course and think people do best when they let that play out. No Botox or a nip here or a tuck there for me. No dyeing away the gray.

I was young when I developed that life strategy. Tight skin and a high metabolism give you a certain courage to face the inevitable receding hairline, especially when it is decades away. How does the strength given by youth hold up at 50? In short, not well.

I turned 50 two weeks ago. I celebrated the milestone with a week-long cruise with some family and friends. In fact, two weeks ago this very minute I was in a private cabana on a private island in a heated infinity pool overlooking the Caribbean ocean surrounded by the people I care most about. It was a big deal, so I splurged.

It was a perfect day, just as Royal Caribbean’s marketing will tell you, but the lead-up to the trip was when I started to see cracks in the foundation of my youthful optimism.

My hairline has been receding for some time now. It bothered me at first, so I would grow it out a little and let the curls cover it up. After some time though, I decided to keep my hair short because I liked it and I embraced that aspect of aging.

Lately, I’ve noticed some things that I am less willing to accept. I was getting a haircut and my barber, an extremely talented and nice guy, had wet my hair to cut it. I looked at the top of my head and gay gasped. The thinning process had hit full force. I became obsessed with examining the rest of my body.

I checked my eyes for age lines, noticeable but not too bad. I made my way down to my neck. Ut-oh. I had begun my metamorphosis into a turkey. I’m not sure if it was weight loss or age that was the problem, or a combination of both. It’s nothing like whatever is happening to Trump’s neck, but it was noticeable enough for me to start applying serum to it and doing that thing where you pull the skin back to see how a lift might look.

I know, in the grand scheme, 50 isn’t that old — or I should say I don’t feel like it is. I do, however, notice that lunges become more difficult for the knees, I have to stretch a bit before going to bed or my legs won’t let me sleep and my occasion middle-of-the-night bathroom break is a steady couple of trips. Let’s not forget, I also own somewhere around 21 pairs of readers.

None of this is attributed to my self-proclaimed mid-life crisis, though. It isn’t the physical part of aging that sent me into a tailspin. That was just the catalyst to the mental chaos.

Although 50 is arguably young in the grand scheme, it is likely I’m on the back half of my existence on this earth. I’m not even a drinking age away from how old my father was when he passed away. This realization had me questioning all of my life choices.

Mostly those that surround my career and my marketable talents should something go drastically wrong. Do I show the people I love enough love? Do I spend quality time with them?

I shared all of these thoughts with a colleague and close friend. His response: “Sounds like you need a weeklong cruise.”

Maybe he was right. It definitely helped. Maybe it’s just natural to doubt, and arbitrary milestones bring out the worst of those doubts. This recent vacation was probably my favorite. I spent a lot of time with my favorite people.

As I was basking in the afterglow of my recent trip, I took a minute to go to the Festival of the Arts at EPCOT. Jelani Remy was performing “Son of Man” From “Tarzan” and he asked the crowd to stand and dance. I despise audience participation so I didn’t stand, but I noticed a little girl who did. She was so young, so carefree and having the time of her life. She made my eyes well up.

It renewed a sense of joy that I lost a little in the rat race. I’ll spend my 50th year connecting more with my youth, dancing along to the song if only quietly in my head as I remain seated with my thinning hair, waddling neck and weakening knees.

Stay visible, stay strong and support each other.

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