Early Onset Mid-Life Crisis
It was the 8th October 1999. Almost the end of a year, a Century and a Millennium. The Cold War was over, Nelson Mandela was free, at last, and the Internet was changing the way everyone worked and lived their lives. It was also Trisha Carter’s 40th birthday.
After yet another dreary day at work she was not in the best of moods, even though it was a Friday, her birthday and she had the weekend to look forward to. She was depressed. Early onset mid-life crisis perhaps? It hadn’t helped that one of the bright, young grads at work had asked her if she remembered the Queen’s Coronation Day. She thought she had kept her composure rather well, considering her blood reached boiling point, calmly retorting … actually … my parents didn’t even meet until 6 years after the event. And instead leaving the awkward question to drift into the ether, the socially inept Generation X-er, followed it up with I expect you remember black and white TV though? Being 40 was a defining moment in one’s life, when you leave your chaotic younger self behind and morph into a mature, erudite woman. Not open day for the younger generation to ask flippant and ridiculous questions.
But … 40 years on the planet and what exactly had she got to show for it? Apart from 40-year-old blubber, wrinkles and facial hair? Zilch. Nada. Nothing. No relationship, no children and a stagnating career. She had worked hard to reach the top of her tree but, over the last few years some of the branches had been lopped off. Her career had become a downward spiral and her life an uphill struggle. She was tired, disillusioned and had subconsciously resigned herself to the fact that this was how things were going to be. An elderly primigravida, alone against the world.
She needed to address this unsatisfactory situation, because it was not going to go away on its own.