Midlife Crisis, or Midlife Opportunity?

A case for rebranding

Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash

I’m having a midlife crisis. Except, it’s not really a crisis. 

At 42, I resigned my high paying, high status job as a medical executive at a startup without having another position lined up. I’m a doctor and after years of private practice and 6 years guiding physician care for a large telemedicine company, I realized I just didn’t feel inspired to do it anymore. That feeling was confusing for a while, since the care we provided was helping people and in some cases even transformational or life saving. I was respected and valued by my peers and those with whom I worked. Yet, I felt empty. I felt a pull toward a more spiritual life, but how to pursue that end was eluding me.

Today, I am considering studying for rabbinic ordination—about 20 years later than most people make this choice—while simultaneously building a consulting business. My professional future is uncertain. Moreover, to add a bit more context to my inner tumult as I look into a future that culminates with my mortality, I am grappling with the brutally concrete punctuation to that truth, as it comes with knowing I will never be a father due to infertility.

I know many people my age, and this sort of “crisis” is common. Most of my friends are not buying expensive sports cars they can’t afford or having torrid affairs, but they are experiencing an anxiety-filled shift. Many are rethinking their careers, parenting styles, and other life decisions. Some are reconsidering their religious beliefs and deeply held values. It certainly feels like a crisis—but is it? 

I don’t think it is. At around 40, most of us realize that we are no longer young. We aren't old yet, but we can no longer fool ourselves into feeling youthful. We may have some aches and pains or other physical ailments reminding us that the peak of youth has passed. Most of us have married, had children, and chosen and developed a career. The massive array of options that once existed has narrowed. The intense period of choices, development, and building of young adulthood is well behind us. We exquisitely sense life’s potential and our own mortality simultaneously. And it leaves us anxious. 

How shall I spend the good years I have left? How do I live a meaningful life? What was the purpose of all I’ve done until now? What can I do with my future to make it meaningful? These questions make us uncomfortable, but discomfort is not the same as a crisis. 

In the mid-twentieth century, Erik Erikson developed his theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan. Erikson considered middle adulthood, the second stage of adulthood, to span the ages of 40 to 65. While young adulthood (ages 18–40) is defined by building—relationships, career, etc.—Erikson believed middle adulthood was defined by generativity versus stagnation. 

Generative people are secure in their careers and are working on using their knowledge and skills to contribute in meaningful ways. This may be through parenting, teaching, or mentoring others. There is an implicit recognition that our lives are finite, and we create meaning by guiding the next generation. Stagnation occurs when people regret their paths and feel they have nothing to contribute. 

The midlife crisis can feel and look like a second adolescence. The acknowledgement of mortality, rethinking of life choices, and even questioning of our own identities certainly feel like a crisis. But crises are bad things that happen to us, and the transition to midlife is a natural life stage that is neither inherently good nor bad. In fact, it is also more an opportunity than a crisis. 

Every life stage has its own benefits and drawbacks. The midlife transition is a sweet spot of sorts. We still have most of our health and cognition, although they may not be what they were when we were 20, but we also have more experience and confidence than when we were younger. If we’re lucky, our finances and relationships are more stable at this stage too. This, then, is the backdrop against which we are asking ourselves these existential questions. 

Now that I have a basic understanding of who I am and I am not figuring out how to survive, how shall I live my best life? It’s scary because it requires some intention and there are no guarantees of success. It is also not something we can answer in a day or a week. It’s a period of life that requires deep reflection and exploration if we are to have a chance at answering these questions. But it is not a crisis. It is the first time in life we can intentionally decide how to live while facing down our own mortality. Until now, the stakes just weren’t high enough to give ourselves good answers. 

If you’re in the age range of 35 to 45 and feeling this earthquake to your essence, consider rebranding it and seeing if it takes you in a different direction. For my own part, I’ve rebranded my midlife crisis as my Midlife Opportunity. Maybe you can too.