Adventures at Midlife

A troubling story from a recent NYTimes: “A new five-year analysis of the nation’s death rates recently released by the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that the suicide rate among 45-to-54-year-olds increased nearly 20 percent from 1999 to 2004, the latest year studied, far outpacing changes in nearly every other age group…For women 45 to 54, the rate leapt 31 percent.” Research apparently indicates that “the prime suspect is the skyrocketing use — and abuse — of prescription drugs,” according to the Times story.

As interesting as the story itself was, with some really poignant stories, the readers’ responses were, well, amazing. Their top culprits? The economy, George Bush, Iraq, ageism, lookism, 9/11, a general loss of hope.

Deep in the dark recesses of my heart, I have my own theory: Many Boomers are a spoiled, selfish, greedy bunch, who, faced with the physical decline and social irrelevance that many of my generation truly believed would never come, are opting out. If we can’t be young and beautiful and popular and powerful and at the center of everything, we’ll fold our cards and walk out into the night. We were told never to trust anyone over 30, and now that we’re nearing 60, we can’t even trust ourselves. (Disclaimer: This, of course, does not include the clinically depressed, for whom suicide always appears to be an option on the table.)

As someone who’s never been even remotely beautiful or particularly relevant, except in my own small circle, I find this all really sad. I may not be very self-aware sometimes, but I do know this about myself: I’m not very sentimental. (Except about my children.) I don’t look back very much. I don’t scrapbook. I rarely listen to the “oldies” stations. I’ve always been more interested in what’s next. And I believe there will always be a “what’s next” out there. That’s part of the reason why I started this blog, even though I keep stumbling over articles maintaining that blogging is a dead art.

I wanted to continue to slip into the stream, to scan the horizon. If the old landmarks have disappeared, I’ll discover new ones. Children will become grandchildren. Careers will reconfigure as callings. Society will melt into solitude. It’s still a ways off, but it looks beautiful from here.

This entry was posted on February 25, 2008 at 4:05 pm and is filed under Image, Mental health.