declining years, 48, with three kids 8, 4 and 3, I can certainly recognise that 'trapped' feeling. Happens to me most weeks. The solutions for me haven't been so rash as to go chasing 18 year old supermodels. For a start off, I know my limitations. The secret is to really enjoy those few moments of peace that you get each week - going to work, half an hour browsing your local record shop, the allotment - this time of year going there in the early morning is splendidly tranquil. Best of all, however, is that attaining mid-life allows you to officially become grumpy. Now that can be so rewarding.

Isn't it just one of those terms employed to give legitimacy to something that nature would recognise? The tendency of males to mate with the most nubile member of the herd they can get away with mating with? It's one of those impulses that a civilised society is intended to control. It only runs wild in areas like show business where it's accepted as one of the reasonable benefits of success. Ask Mick Jagger. Or indeed Madonna.

it's more a case of feeling like you've tipped into the part of your life where you realise your prime is long gone. The next stop is fifty and all of a sudden you're extremely aware that it's all going to get harder, your relationships are what they are, your job/career has stalled and that pretty woman harmlessly flirting with you suddenly looks like the promise of something...else. Something less complicated and more fun. And as anyone who has witnessed the aftermath will attest, it's actually much more complicated and a world of pain.
People who do this will often say that it was as though all their usual checks and balances, the reasonable part of themselves, shuts down and when they come through to the other side they can't believe the way they acted and the things they did. Unfortunately by then it's too late.

As you say, why can't they just get a motorbike instead? (Probably because their wife wont let them)

why I so much enjoy standing at the school gate each afternoon with the crowds of parents - mostly female, and considerably younger than me

That's all, just *sheesh*

People who do this will often say that it was as though all their usual checks and balances, the reasonable part of themselves, shuts down and when they come through to the other side they can't believe the way they acted and the things they did.

I think we all recognise this feeling, even if the product of it hasn't been as destructive as upping and leaving one's wife and kids. God knows I've done some stupid, irrational things in my time which were solely motivated by the absolute takeover of my higher functions by some tiny, stupid part of my lizard hindbrain. I absolutely recognise the feeling of having one's normal, civilised, considerate faculties utterly subsumed by a sense of unreality, a sense of "there's something I want to do". There isn't even the addendum "...and I don't care about the consequences", because the notion of consequence has flown the nest entirely. It's just "I WANT. I WANT. I WANT." It's fucking scary.

Fortunately, as I've got a bit older (I'm still not exactly decrepit: 32), I've learned to spot the signs of encroaching recklessness. I have a reckless streak a mile wide, hidden a bit below the surface. Mostly, it's getting buried deeper under layers of maturity all the time, but once in a while there's a small tremor, which I've now learned to head off at the pass.

God knows it's the reason so much of university seems a blur now. All the drinks I shouldn't have drunk, the drugs I shouldn't have gone within a mile of, the girls I should have just been nice and friendly to instead of sleeping with (and cheating on, frankly). Back then, I suppose I had the excuse of being a drunk kid. Nowadays, luckily, I realise that I've no excuse, so I behave myself.

I was shy, awkward and painfully self conscious in my "prime." I was also a drunken drug fiend. I am no longer drunk, drugged up, shy or self conscious. This makes me somewhat antsy that the day might come when I morph into Peter Stringfellow. If I am ever spotted ordering Krug at a Word Bloggers event while attempting to impress a bar maid please someone take me aside for a quiet word in my ear...

I have a lovely wife and 3 nippers, and whilst at times I feel under pressure, it is them that make it all worthwhile.

I have had a blast so far in life, I have a great job, and a fantastic family, and enough extra curricular activity (accountancy exams, covers band, watching a bit of rugby, Word blog etc) to keep me going.

My current "project", if you want to call it that, is to give the kids a decent start. I don't mean financially, I just mean that I want them to see the opportunities that life has to offer, and hopefully to be enthusiastic about life in general.

As for "midlife crisis", and chasing 18 year old girls, I'm afraid I really have no interest. There is too much going on in my life for that sort of nonsense. And I'm tired quite a lot as it is!

Also the idea of being trapped is a complete cop out. Trapped by what? Your decision to start a family, and witness the most marvellous thing in life, i.e. your children, the ones that you created, growing up?

No. I'm sure some will read this and think I'm being a bit pompous, and someday I may look back on this period of my life and reappraise, but right now, at 40, I'm happier than I have ever been.

And I've just discovered "The Hold Steady". Bring it on!

A friend of mine - successful businessman, unmarried, 40ish, own plane - once told me that he was bored of 18 year old blondes. Nice to look at, but no conversation, and no real understanding of the world. Eventually he married someone much nearer our own age, had a couple of kids.

Mid-life crises are responses to unhappiness - and doing dangerous and wild things rarely leads to lasting happiness. Really the only thing that would make me happier is more money - but I am will not sacrifice my home life to get it.

And coming from a "broken home" (my mother and my wife's mother have been married 7 times between them...) I think given a solid base to my kids is more important than anything on my personal "to do" list. Your mileage my differ.

and is the 18 year old girl\40 year old lizard king crossover that big?

I think some things generally perceived as representing mid-life crisis are nothing of the sort.

If a forty-something bloke decides to get a motorbike or a drum kit, perhaps it's not the result of a forlorn yearning for youth, but merely reflects the fact that for the first time he might have the disposable income to do something about it.

Hell, I've always wanted a Harley. I just can't afford it yet.

Given the alarmingly grim prognosis for people with my set of autoimmune problems, I suspect that the opportunity for a real mid-life crisis passed me by some time ago. On the upside I no longer invest any time worrying about pensions, mortgages, or any kind of long-term commitment.

I can't afford a decent sports car or expensive hair restoration products on an NHS pay packet. Pound Land don't appear to sell leather trousers or even leather-effect trousers. The only option for men my age hoping to re-experience youth by proxy is to become the kind of teacher who reads the NME and can discuss the merits of Kasabian with their pupils.

A couple of weeks ago someone half my age expressed admiration that I had seen Nirvana play live. It made me think that Nevermind was a long time ago and I'm like one of those rare species of tortoises lumbering towards extinction.

I think Mr Hepworth is correct. We invented this neutering terminology to delineate and circumscribe a natural phemomenon.

Having said that, there is nothing sadder than a bloke in his forties chasing teenaged tottie. I believe the industry standard should be about 23 or 24 ;)

Lady Old Face assures me that I've not drifted into being a sad old git yet. I have no craving for a sports car or motorbike, or a nubile/pneumatic young lady to cavort with (Lady Old Face is still a babe in any case!). I still love rock, jazz and classical music, going to gigs, quaffing beer, wine, Scotch etc. I still wear interestingly-coloured casual shoes and the occasional loud tie. I rarely wear denim jeans, preferring light cords or chinos. I am slightly plumper than in my younger days but not to the extent that I don't fancy a walk in the park or down by the river. I sleep well, eat well and have tried to avoid unemployment for most of my life. I do like a nice cup of tea or good coffee, as well as a nice digestive biscuit. The first 50-odd years have been a blast and I intend the second half to be just as much fun.

Mid-life crisis? It's just an excuse for doing the things you've always wanted to do but never had the experience, confidence, or money to do yet. Suddenly you feel as if time is running out fast and that you need to try all of this out before it's too late. It's a myth! Every day is precious, so get out there and live the dream.

I've got to go now - Lady Old Face wants me to do the dishes...

20 years married and perfectly happy about the way I live and where I live it. Still have all my hair/teeth & haven't changed shape. I find dealing with people easier and I get endless joy from my children. But things like the recent banking crisis send me demented with rage - political I think maybe moral rage - partly because its something that just seems to keep happening (I'm a history fanatic). Upshot is I get stroppy in my day to day life about things over which I have no control and occasionally jump down people's throats without good reason (did it on here yesterday - sorry Rosbif). Is this 'grumpy old man'-ness or a midlife crisis.

A MLC is prompted by the sense of death being just up the road. The realisation, for me, that life is short only came when I hit my 40s and that sense of 'do it now or it's gone' entered the front of my mind. Maybe this is because I am a don't put off to tomorrow what can't be put off till the day after type guy, but this dawning must fuel a MLC. Keeping it under control is the key, and thankfully so far so good.

...which, like a supposed "mid life crisis", can occur at any age.

Seeing as an FPO and sprogs seem to be a long way off for me, my leather kecks period will coincide with my purchase of a bath chair and commode.

Had dinner with a mate the other week (female) who has an important and well-paid job at a big bank; she's approaching 50 ... having considered all angles and looked at it from all perspectives, she reckons her job is "utterly pointless" ... and she keeps doing it because the energy involved in starting again at 50 would be too much of a challenge, because it means giving up a decent lifestyle, cutting off an occupational pension and perhaps jeopardizing her security post-retirement ...

conclusion: another 15 years or so to go of leaving her soul out in the rain to erode and then a retirement holiday for as long as she's got left ...

in the UK we have largely moved over to being service economy where we are not primary producers - of food, raw materials or manufactured stuff (perhaps one of the reasons why working on a mag is still a thrill - every month you get to hold an edition and say, "We made this" ... very rare in the modern workplace) ... working lives are spent gadding about in the epiphenomenal plane where language, processes and aims seem to change every few months, along with senior management ... "doing a good job" entails faffing around in meetings, not pissing anyone off, being on-message and filling in spreadsheets ... or talking to people on the telephone ...

meanwhile, in another thread recently, many people cited partner/kids as the reason why life was worth living, although you can find equal numbers of people who complain about potty training, piss on the kitchen floor, husbands not contributing to the household, the mind-numbing boredom of spending all day alone with a baby or toddler, or see a wistful look on the face of a father-of-three who last had a good shrieking shag on the eve of the Millennium ...

and so ... hmmm ... well how about that sloughing off the obligations and finding some hope in the world might appear to be a good thing? that an open horizon rather than the closed ones chosen by default might perk you up a bit? that instead of 15 years of economically-necessary pointlessness before retirement, you actually wake up with a positive attitude in the morning?

the surprise is not that this (midlife crisis) happens - the surprise is that it happens so seldom and is often typified as something to do with a "man-o-pause", as if middle aged women seeking affairs were a figment of a fevered imagination ...

that's a conclusion, sort of

my midlife crisis is coming along nicely,thanks for asking.

a few thank you notes from a group of teenage students I'd taken on a trip.
One girl said "You're really cool - you remind me of my granddad" Ouch!

a few thank you notes from a group of teenage students I'd taken on a trip.
One girl said: "You're really cool - you remind me of my granddad" Ouch!

To be or not to be: that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die - to sleep,
No more – and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I quote this only because much of it seems to be paraphrased in the posts above.

I have enough trouble fighting them off as it is. I remember the time in Dublin, when I spotted a group of young things looking in my direction across a crowded bar. I sauntered over and smoothly uttered in my best Leslie Philips-style manner, "Well hello girls."

"You look like that bloke off the telly", she cooed. "Mr Burns from The Simpsons!"

Far better to stick to joshing with The Massive and reminiscing about the good old punk wars.

But I'm not sure the young blonde thing would work for me. What if techniques have changed since I was last on the market? I'd be terrified. After 20 years of marriage, for all I know I could be still using rotary dial technology while she'd be predictive text.

I have this vision of her leaping out of bed and shouting "What are you doing?"

Just don't, alright? Just f*cking don't...

*inserts smiley to indicate attempt at humour*

But really... don't.

*slopes off to weep into large glass of red*

I'm a bit too busy living my life at the moment, but I'm sure I'll be able to fit it in sometime.

that this thread contains more real-life wisdom, messy experience and open-hearted truth than any number of TV programmes, magazine articles or radio discussions would have on this same topic.

Particular thanks go to Glenbervie for his masterful way of expressing precisely what's in my mind.

This is why I check into this site every day!

it is an indulgence of an affluent consumer society. I bet you don't get many mid-life crises in sub Saharan Africa. In fact I know you don't: there aren't too many mid-lives actually.

My name is Paul Waring, and I did the mid-life crisis thing.

Aged 40, married for fifteen years, two kids, 12 and 10.

Left my wife and kids for another lady - not an 18 year old bimbo, but someone single, attractive, and five years younger than me.

Was it a true mid-life crisis? Don't know, really. It was partly opportunity and environment - I was working for a holiday company - lots of overseas travel away from home, a culture that, if it didn't *encourage* extramarital stuff, certainly didn't frown upon it. It wasn't something I was looking for - in one sense, it 'just happened' - but once it had happened, I chose not to walk away from it. Things at home were 'ok', although I did have a feeling that I was 40 going on 30 and my wife was 40 going on 50 (but maybe a bit of self-justification going on there).

Perhaps - as some have suggested above - it was all about making up for lost time. I didn't do the 'wild oats' thing at University, maybe settled down sooner than I should - who knows?

Anyway, I did what I did, and won't pretend that people didn't get hurt along the way.

But eleven years on, where are we? Well, I'm still with the 'scarlet woman', happily married and settled in a warm, loving relationship. Wife No. 1 has remarried, to a really nice bloke who, really, suits her a lot better than I ever did. The kids are grown up, well-balanced, and have good relationships with both of us. And - having got the financial stuff and the inevitable personal stuff behind us - Wife No. 1 and myself are on reasonably decent terms now. And as some of you may know, certain things have happened that have pulled us closer together and put a lot of this nonsense into perspective anyway.

What's my point? I'm not sure, really. Except to say that shit happens sometimes, it's not necessarily about age, aspirations or boys' toy substitution. In my case, eventually it just might have worked itself out - but perhaps I'm the exception rather than the rule.

Again - and another reason I love this place - I sense no judgements being laid down in this thread. Nor should there be. Things happen. I regret - deeply - a lot of things that happened as a result of all this. But if push comes to shove - and if I was back in 1999 knowing then what I know now - I'm pretty sure I'd do exactly the same things again.

Does anyone know of a bar or a club where these willing 18-20 year olds hang out to help blokes who are not rich or famous get through their mid-life crises ? didnt think so.

that not only have I missed my prime, but I've missed my own mid-life crisis as well. Why isn't there a handbook?

.....then that means I've got another 44 years to go. What the fuck am I going to do with all that?

It's all about growing old AND infirm. I don't just mean the aches and pains and the need to have a chair nearby when you want to get up off the floor. It's about the liklihood that you or the GLW will not be marching through your retirement with vim and vigour like they do on the Yalkult ads.

When I hit 50 I spent my bonus money and we travelled to Tokyo, lapping up what Disneyland had to offer and fulfilling my wife's wish to go to Fujisan. The following year we did the same for her 50th in Los Angeles, not realising it would end with her being flown home in an air ambulance and being lucky to be alive. It is unlikely she will ever travel abroad again, even if she could get travel insurance.

Make the most of life boys and girls. It's not a rehearsal.

The acquaintance stuck it out for 20 years. Obviously wasn't happy and realised that he'd got it wrong all those years.

Does his love,does his happiness count for anything? According to most experts you only get one life.

I was married for 18 years and unhappy for most of those years for a variety of reasons. I had 2 affairs . Sex is a factor. It is alright to say that the male should be monogamous, not have affairs, not visit prostitutes etc etc but then you have got a problem if appetites are fundamentally imbalanced. I'm not saying that is the sole cause but it didn't help.

So eventually the marriage collapsed. My wife ended up with 70 % of the assets and I now rent a house. I support my daughter and my new , yes younger ,partner ( she is 42 and I am 53) and her 3 children.

My 20 year old son has not spoken to me for 3 years despite repeated approaches and as a result of abuse including physical violence I ended up in a clinic and on anti depressants for 2 years.

My daughter now sees me - it's her birthday today and after 3 years she visits our house.

Life is often a struggle, everyday I think of my kids and how I broke up our family but I know I am with the woman I should have been with. I would not have been happy staying in my marriage. After 20 years and with both of you in your fifties you know who you both are and you know neither of you is going to change in any significant way.When the kids are gone it is just you and your partner looking over the cereal packet at each other each morning.

If I had my time over again - I don't know - certainly the pain and heartbreak was something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Maybe I should have just stayed unhappy for what's left of my life.

But I reject any notion that this was a mid life crisis where it was simply a case of the new chick or the motor bike.

Then I had to go downstairs for a wee.

Now I've forgotten what it was.

Midlife crisis my arse.

Anyone got any nice photos of Louise Wener whilst I'm trying to remember what it was I was going to say?

even having a wank these days, that's when you know it's time to go bye byes...

...where your wife has the mid-life crisis, and moves out to "find herself" (with help from an old flame she found on Facebook). This, in turn should spawn my mid life crisis (turned 40 6 weeks ago), if I had the time, energy and money, and no child to look after.

As it is, I'm starting to think that it may just all work out OK*

*

.

What is it that actually makes you realise that you are in mid-life in the first place?

It probably happens fairly gradually but for me there were some pivotal moments. Suddenly noticing that the people who stand on street corners handing out flyers for club nights weren't bothering to offer one to me anymore. Having a younger colleague at work suggesting my hairstyle made me look like Gareth Gate's dad ( dad you note, not brother). Participating in a running event where it was assumed I was a veteran (i.e. over 40) rather than having to be asked. And, of course, just to rub it in, no longer being able to immediately assume a vertical posture after getting out of bed first thing in the morning.

And in immortal word of Mr Fred Wedlock .. "it takes all night to do what you used to do all night"

I'm 42, no kids yet, still to couple my education and skills to a proper adult salary, two years into my second marriage (to a lovely woman nine years older than my still-friends-with first wife) so feel like it's still all ahead of us! Just need to choose where and how we want to live, then... um...

... mmm...

... stop underachieving.

I've lived all my dreams and am finding a few more I'd never even considered, I have more new mates (support groups) now than I've had my whole life. Got 'the fear' in every relationship I've had so, have come to terms with my James Blast +1 status and I don't feel any poorer or richer for it.
I'd still love to be the wild man of rock I was up until 34 but the years of abuse have taken their toll and I just can't do it anymore.
I've started looking at sheds.

My story: Way back in 1987, I was 34, newly divorced (no scandal there; married too young, nothing in common, usual stuff) when I met G (21) in a pub. At that point, G was only three months married, but we nevertheless embarked on an affair. Well, hubby found out, and a confrontation in the same pub toilet (THATS irony, Alanis) with him and two of his mates left me in a sorry and bruised state. Well deserved? Probably. Anyroads, G and I set up home shortly after in a new city, away from everybody, and started a new life together. These years together were by far the best of my life. We were good together in every way, had lotsa fun, lotsa laffs, did lotsa stupid stuff together. Not only was she my lover, she was also me best friend. Life was a giant peach! One Friday in November 1999, I felt ill, and came home from work early. Yup, the biter was bitten. Found out she was having a fling with one of my close friends, and had been for the best part of 6 years. Well the brown and smelly stuff hit the fan big time. Turned out that this was the thin end of a bloody big wedge.... This guy was not the only lover she entertained, there was 4 (5?6?) others during our time together. Oh, the pain. We split up. The following two or three years were lost in a haze of wine and sorrow, interspersed with G appearing in my local pub with a new "Lover De La Jour". She had become a serial shagger, and flaunted (it seemed to me) them all in front of me. Time heals tho', and eventually I recovered, made a life of my own, and started "dating" again, and G started to drift somewhat out of my periphery. However,there is a sting in the tail. I bumped into her in 2007,in a pub (see a common denominater here? My heart leapt some two miles North. And we spoke. I noticed she was wearing a wedding ring. "You married?". "Yep". "Oh well...to...?". She introduced me to her partner...a woman!!! Yup. She had discovered her true sexuality and was married to another female. The moral of this story? I have no fucking idea. The point? No idea either. Was there a link between her promiscuity and her hidden sexuality? Not a clue. Recently I became engaged to a beautful Lady. She is an absolute gem of a girl and is everything, and more, that I could ask for. At 57, I am one lucky guy. But would I give up all my tomorrows for just one yesterday? That, my friends, would be a close call. Go figure.

Have thought long and hard about what to post here. Anyway.

[have deleted section on my marriage. apologies. felt incredibly disloyal]

We have two gorgeous daughters. They give me incredible amounts of joy. And unbelievable measures of frustration, sometimes! My 4 year old is going through a particularly whiny patch... it's very wearing to deal with that with love and a good heart, but I am trying my best. I had post-natal depression after my first daughter, and I still feel very guilty about that sometimes, even though I rationally know it wasn't my fault. I really do feel like she was deprived of my full love and attention for that first year.

Work: I've always been a person who defined myself through my work. Quit my job last year - tried a career change that didn't work out, so I decided I would take some time to be a full-time mum while the kids are small. Mostly enjoying it, but still sometimes struggle to reconcile myself to it... I find when I meet new people and they ask what they do, I still say "I used to be a radio producer" rather than "I'm a house spouse".

Mid-life crisis? No. Crisis? No. It's just life, really and I'm just muddling through the best I can...

It's just life really...BUT it can be a bit of a bitch sometimes...

That's Life...but you just might think about Esther Rancid and I don't want to send you to bed having nightmares.

Is that the bloody time? Jeez the World Cup starts later, get your priorities right!

Answers to the name Mandleson

I was blessed 28 years ago when I first met Mrs Beach at a student party and we have been together ever since. The idea of risking the key relationship of my life for some sweaty fun with someone else is simply inconceivable. That's not to say that a little part of me doesn't wish I had more sex before marriage, but the right woman came along at a very early stage in my life and it's something I still don't quite fathom - how as a pretty daft lad at the age of 20 I knew that she was the one for me.

Money excepted our children are starting to lead independent lives - one at "Uni" and the other at sixth form. We aren't having a midlife crisis as such but both recognise that we are now hitting a different stage in our lives and are fortunate to be healthy, financially sound, enjoy each other's company and so rather looking forward to it.Without the kids it's time to tick off some of those things we always wished to do.

After at least ten years of hankering on my part we are finally going to our first Festival - Latitude. Mrs Beach isn't a keen camper and her interest in music is not fanatical but she is willing to give it a go. Advice from the Massive how she gets the best from it should be the subject of another post.

On my part she did propose a weekend at Hay and despite my own reservations about spending time with beardy Guardianistas I have to say it was blast and I will go to another.

Also on the to do list - visit India, Madagascar,walk the Coast to Coast, plant more trees and go on a date once a month.

Sorry rereading the above it does sound rather hearts and flowers but it's the truth. We seem to know an awful lot of people at our stage who are breaking up, mostly from what appears to be boredom rather than a desire for a new partner and it seems so sad that you can run out of stuff that you want to do together.

In answer to Five Centre's original question -do I have a yearning for leather trousers?.

No but I do have a growing attraction for wearing tweed. I am being fitted for a rather nice tweed overcoat tomorrow. To Mrs Beach's shame it's rather similar to one I saw Prince Charles wearing when he tipped off the Shrovetide football in Ashbourne a few years ago. I have fancied one ever since and the other week thought f##k it I'll go and get one made. Wouldn't have dared do that a decade ago.

I look really good in it. I have even been mistaken for quite intelligent. You will not regret doing that.

In fact if you wear tweed to latitude, were you actually considering adultery, you'd probably be "in" with a "shout..."

but I'm getting over it.

Oh sorry, I misread that as a Midlake crisis.

illustrating?

"Bring me my pipe of burning gold
Bring me my slippers of desire"

I like being middle-aged and living a life of dull, suburban conformity. As far as I'm concerned it's the apex of civilisation.
Youth is over-rated. I had a reasonably happy and, I suppose, rather exciting adolescence and early adulthood, but any fool knows that that period of anyone's life is fraught with all sorts of hang-ups, anxieties, frustrations and insecurities. Why anyone should want to re-experience it in later life is beyond me.
Hannah's nailed it. Muddle through and enjoy the passing show. I hear they've laid on some sort of World Cup. That's me sorted for the next four weeks. Then I'll fish the tent down from the loft and head Lakes-wards.

Of course I hated it at the time and felt very sorry for myself but gradually had to admit to myself that the marriage was not the happy, exciting thing it had once been. And when I became a single man again at the age of 31 I found life to be quite exciting.

Before I'd got married I'd kept hold of the first girl I'd managed to get into bed for fear I wouldn't find another one. When that relationship eventually petered out I'd met my first wife and so my sexual experience wasn't huge. But I discovered that a man in his thirties is suddenly very attractive to women of around that age (and, sometimes, a little younger). And I spent the next six year doing the things that my contemporaries had done as teenagers. And it was great.

Now (20 years later) I'm married again with a teenaged child and can't afford a second mid-life crisis. But I have my memories...

I have read this thread with interest, agreeing with a lot of the comments, unsure about others, & disagreeing with some.

I am a single, 54 year old man, & would appear one of the eldest people writing on this board.

I was very happily married to a girl who adored me & me her. 18 years together, 2 wonderful sons, I was 44, she was 39, then out of the blue, in a matter of weeks, she became ill, diagnosed with cancer, & died in my arms 18 days later.

I was totally in bits, but, as bad as that was, I managed to compound things by making some unwise decisions that made my situation into a full blow nightmare !!

I look back ruefully now, but I lived a long way from family, & became very lonely, met a local woman, things started well, but I proposed, got engaged, married, seperated & divorced in a little over 4 years.

I am trying not to dwell on it now, almost trying to learn from it, but, what I have read on this thread, & my own experiences, have led me to believe that a lot of men think from between the legs rather than between the ears. This is not a critiscism, nor am I mocking anyone, just an observation.

My own situation is a lot different now, I am happily single, lovely girlfriend, my sons are 2 superb young men who I am very proud of, & I am very proud of my relationship with them.

I am not accountable to anyone, I buy far more music, & go too far more concerts ( spending waay too much money in the process)

Not really sure where this is going, but just wanted to finish by saying that my midlife crisis WAS a crisis, but if I can get my life back on track, I am sure many others can too.

Peace & Love.

One way of defining the word 'crisis' is 'turning point'. Reading jackthebscuit's and other posts on this thread, I can't help thinking that this may be a good way of looking at it.

for overcoming your crisis. I think personal tragedy can lead to 'not thinking straight' and your story is very understandable. On the other hand my brother has adopted the policy of sleeping with as many girls as possible and I don't think he has ever conducted a monogamous relationship. When I have discussed this with him he has always suggested that he is only doing what every male wants to do but hasn't go the balls to do. Dont agree with this at all and it depends on your relationship with your partner. If you are in a relationship where you have healthy sexual activity or are not repressed in terms of pursuing your own interests then it is less likely that you will stray. My first wife questioned almost everything I did and everything I bought that didn't involve her. It didn't make for a happy relationship. My current wife is an absolute treasure - she values her own freedom and doesn't give me any problems with mine. We have a wonderful daughter and get to do most of the things we want to do. I guess we are lucky.
If midlife crisis means pursuing something missing in your life it can be understandable - its when you have everything you want but still pursue something else that it is less so.
By the way Jack 54 is not old - am only 1 year behind you.

been married for 15 years with 2 girls aged 6 and 2.

I've been thinking more recently about my life and the context in which it should be placed. Am I happy with my lot? Is the grass really greener on the other side? Those types of questions circulate fretfully and oft times inconveniently and uncontrollably, the answers to which change on a regular basis, occasionally on the same day. There's nothing like a shit day at work to take home as a mirror for your domestic arrangements. I frequently fail to put such days into a proper perspective until much later when the GLW has ushered the kids from the room and left me with instructions to stew in silence until I deign to be a human being again.

I confess I've often used my status as the sole man of the house to stomp and rave without good reason when the real reasons are lying on a desk in the office or down the end of a telephone line if only I could summon up enough spirit and vim to address the problem head on. Some days it's all too tiring and deflating and there's nothing less convincing in my psychological make-up than me trying to sound chipper when a piece of jagged glass is tumbling around in my stomach and a fog of despair is threatening to envelop my mind.

I've discovered that the best way for me to overcome those shadow days is to do something I know I can do well and then do it better than I've ever done before, or at least try to. This might be cooking a meal but I've found this other wonderful outlet: talking to my wife and kids, really talking to them on their level, from their perspective, from what's inside their heart and mind.

With the 2 year old it's been Peppa Pig for weeks but this morning she asked me "Daddy, are you happy?" just before I started the car to take her to nursery. So I stopped the engine, turned round and faced her, gave her a big smile and said "Yes, my darling. Are you?" It was only after I gave my answer that I realised I hadn't stopped, even momentarily, to consider what my answer would be or offer an answer derived from the benefit of a brief moments reflection. That was my honest answer and my flip-flopping, temperamental mind had lost its chance to convince me otherwise.

Today the 6 year old is having a World Cup day at school. She wanted to go in an England T-shirt so last night we sat down for an hour together and made a design to go on a plain white T-shirt. As I neatly drew a red cross on the front and created 4 stencilled letters for her name, one letter in each square, she regaled me with stories of her friends at school and the extraordinary adventures that befell them during morning break, lunch-time and golden time: pirates seem to be the main threat, more specifically 4 boys in Year 3. As the last letter of her name was completed she told me very forcefully that it was the best writing she'd ever seen and that I should do as mummy says and "do more writing, not just talking about it". I had to laugh. As we put her surname and her number on the back of the T-shirt she complimented me on my patience. Was there a note of surprise in her voice? It would have been justifiable. Later on before her bed-time I got my real reward, a hug that felt that little bit tighter, coming from a seedling that grows into what will hopefully be a very large and multi-branched and deep-rooted Tree of Mutual Understanding.

As for the GLW she took great pleasure in my changing channels unannounced to switch from the France game on BBC1 to watch Gareth Malone Goes To Glyndebourne, a simple gesture but one which I know she'd appreciate. We had a great conversation afterwards about how it felt strangely more natural for both of us to try and sing like an opera singer than as a pop singer.

I offer all these small personal incidents as evidence of what stops my mid-life crisis, something that occasionally threatens to take root or something like what I'm told it's supposed to be. As pressure builds up (usually work related but sometimes a vicarious nebulous pressure from too much exposure to the rotten apples of mankind) I consciously try and overcome from without, not from within. Often it feels like a huge undertaking just to do something that to the outside eye seems simple and common-sensical hampered as I am by an anchor that wants to pull me down to the depths of darkness. But I firmly believe we all spend far too much time worrying about ifs, buts and maybes (things out of our direct control and out of our price range) when the real and tangible rewards of effort are with the people around you who read you much better than you often read yourself because they live every day with the consequences of your actions; your thoughts never at all. Their story about you is not what's in your head but in your words and deeds.

It's Fathers Day on Sunday and on one level it's a cynical cash-cow but I've written a short note to my own father to the effect that it's only now that I have children of my own that I appreciate what a great father he is. My dad is an unsentimental man and he'll say nothing about what I've written but my mum will fuss and coo over me and I'll know why. (My mum has no side to her, she is an emotional receiver always tuned to the right frequency whoever she meets). I'm 42 and I've realised that I've grown to love my 62 year old father more now than ever before so I see no reason not to let him know that even if I needed the convenient excuse of a commercially-driven day set aside to acknowledge such a thing.

I might still have a mid-life crisis - if such things actually exist - but it'll not be for failing to be dependable to the people that matter. If my lot in life is to see everyone around me that I love made that bit happier, confident or free-spirited then I'll take that role and cherish it whilst firmly believing that the smallest steps make the biggest impression.

Really enjoyed your thoughts,I sometimes think it's just fine to be an okay dad, my twin six year olds are also into the World Cup, at the most basic of levels, they help me keep things in perspective.Don't know if I was too busy for a mid -life crisis, and missed it altogether.But you're doing fine, glad to see.

I seem to be chopping onions, in a dusty room, while listening to George Jones...

OK I'm back.

Mr Bisto that was lovely. And the rest of you as well. If my crisis comes (and you never know. I'm certainly not planning one but I'm mid thirties, unmarried, no children but been in a relationship for eleven years, love my girlfriend dearly, never cheated, but hopefully not taking things for granted. Who bloody knows what the future brings though?), I really hope I bear in mind a lot of the wisdom I have read on this thread.

I think this blog should give us all hope that we can lurch through any crisis, mid-life or otherwise.

I’ve no shame in telling you that the confessions, opinions, wisdom, foolishness and salutary tales of triumph and disaster shared here have in many cases moved me to tears.

You’re a brutally, beautifully honest bunch, and I know some of your stories must have been agonizing to write.

So, after much painful rumination, I’ve finally screwed my courage to the sticking place and decided to add my mid-life crisis two-penneth.

My take on this is a little different. My epiphany didn’t occur when I was middle-aged (in fact I was in my 20s), but it was an event that changed every aspect of my life.

Before, I was marching upwards on my chosen career path, full of the arrogance and invincibility of youth. After, I struggled to hold it together. Now, mostly, I find the strength to be happy.

The crisis I faced was when my daughter was born with a rare genetic condition that means she can never live a normal life. Eleven years on it’s just the way things are. It’s life with kids: funny, dull, wildly entertaining, infuriating, and wonderful.

But back then it was a body blow in the true sense of the phrase: it felt like an anvil slamming into my chest. The miracle of birth, the joy of motherhood, damn it, the way things were supposed to be just...weren’t.

At the age of 27 I was forced by circumstance to turn my life upside down and shape my future in a completely different direction, and I was sick with rage and despair.

It took a long time to accept the reality. And I realise now that my family could easily have fallen apart instead of lock together.

I’ve seen a couple in a similar situation just drift away. So I can understand the cliched ‘mid-life crisis’ tale of wanting to run away. Some of the responsibilities of being a grown-up are unexpectedly hard. I can also see how the hardest decision of all can be to make that move, knowing the hurt it will cause.

And I wonder if our emotional compasses had swung a different way on a different day, could that have happened to me and my husband? We were engulfed by the white waters of fear, anger, and desolation, and somehow we survived and washed up on the same bank together.
We were lucky.

except to say that, my previous obsession came to naught, thankfully (no offence to HGV drivers - a fine breed, I'm sure).

Things have improved by the following means:

-Taking Citalopram, as prescribed by my GP

thus giving me slightly more motivation to:

-take up regular exercise (in my case the best route proving to be, as for most I'm sure, through a group session, for me the masochistic appeal of twice-weekly circuit training)

thus giving me the motivation to:

Climb a hill (hat tip to Lando Cakes who suggested said activity on my first posting).

all Californian on yo' collective ass, but I've found the principles of Getting Things Done aka GTD are a handy thing to strive towards. Overcome your likely resistance to the CEO-centric nature of the site and you will find some useful nuggets.

http://www.davidco.com/

What a great thread!

For me, as I didn't own a home til I was 38 and didn't get married til I was 42, a lot of the 'MLC' issues have never arisen: Essentially, I was 'young' for about 25 years, plenty of time to get rid of most of my demons. And even now, at 47, I'm still doing most of the same stuff I've been doing since I was 19 - music, clothes, travelling, drinking, reading...I even take the ol' skateboard out now and again, if it's very late and I can be sure none of the neighbours kids'll see me..there's a bit of an ongoing beergut crisis, but other than that I've only got one real issue with middle age:

It's my constantly deteriorating relationship with physical objects.
Do you remember that old 'Viz' joke about the bloke who owned 42000 screwdrivers but could never find one and always had to change a plug with a table knife? That's my entire existence. I buy biros in boxes of a 100, and still end up leaving the milkman a note written in nail varnish. I own 14 business shirts, and religiously do my ironing every Saturday morning, but every Thursday I'm rooting around in the fabric recycling bag for something to wear for work. Same with the 2000 pairs of socks I've bought this year. We had people around todinner on Sunday, and I was appalled to find that as I near 50, I still can't manage to own 6 matching wine glasses, and ended up drinking a fine Merlot from a decorative candleholder. Every night I carefully plug in my laptop and phone for work the next day, and every morning I'm on my hands and knees for 20 minutes weeping as I untangle a spaghetti of cables that have mysteriously entangled themselves overnight. And finding a pair of scissors? Forget it. All scissor related tasks are set aside for Saturday afternoons, as I always have them on the weekly shopping list. They've inevitably disappeared by Sunday Morning - Maybe the cats are doing a low budget remake of 'Edward Scissorhands' or something. I make light of it, but it's genuinely depressing and a bit scary. Another few decades of this and I'll be welcoming death with open arms.

Or perhaps that's just me.

CD I want to hear (Spotty is a blessing), felt tipped pen (I can't work biros and their scrawl looks awful), padded envelope, blank CD/DVD, system disc, book, photo, scalpel, handset, wine de-corker thingey, something with my bank account no. on etc.

car/house keys, ID swipe doobrey, 4G USB, iPod, glasses are all sorted

I'm in the middle of a major cull and the stuff I've found could fill another skip

and I would say that it's part of encroaching age were it not for the fact that I seem to have always been like this.

There are a few deeply important objects that I have to constantly check I have with me or near me: glasses, phone, wallet, keys.... But everything else is fair game.

Socks: I have been known to take all the socks out of my drawer and marvel at the mathematical improbability of being able to own about twenty socks and ALL OF THEM ARE ODD. How is that possible? Surely in a pile of twenty pairs, if you lose half of them, it is inconceivable that no two unlost socks are a pair? How does that happen? The reason I love getting new socks because you have that rare fleeting pleasure of wearing a matching pair for once.

Music: agree with the person above who can never find CDs or records. I can spend days looking for a specific CD I just KNOW is there. The minute I stop looking for it or caring about it is the minute is miraculously appears.

.. just turned 38, been seperated from my wife for six months divorce pending, recently started smoking a pipe and yesterday I bought a VW camper van. I'm off to a flying start.

.. I bought a reconditioned, 40 year old, immaculate, gun metal grey Vespa 150 Sportique. I rode it exactly twice before I stored it in my brothers garage in case it got nicked. I'm 50 in January. It's still there.