Turning 40, Guarding Peace, and the Art of the Exit Button

I’m turning 40 next January, and my mother is convinced I’m not middle-aged yet. She thinks she is middle-aged at 71. How cute is this lady? She is way cuter than my wobbly, creaky knees and broken back, for sure—especially after a 30-minute bumpy car ride inside Timezone with my son. 

Each time I tell her a new maniacal plan of mine—which includes more hair colours, tattoos, or a big, fat, loud-looking automobile with my name written all over the backdoor (remember Kunal Kemmu’s Red Thar in "Single Papa")—she tells me, "No, no, no." It’s so cute that she still assumes I’ll listen to her, or anyone else for that matter. 

But as a wise man once told me, "Respect your parents, even if you don't agree with them. Don't have silly squabbles with them, and ensure you have their blessings in life always. Because when you do, people like me will also get blessed by them indirectly." It is very strange logic, but I agree. He also went on to tell me, "This whole 'rebel without a cause' thing was cute at 16. You're not 16. I hope you remember that." 

I unfortunately do. And if I forget, my aching shoulder blades and every other creaky bone in my body remind me. 

For me, the mid-life crisis—or rather, existential crisis—has been very real from the moment my son was born and when my husband passed away. To live a whole life, not just be a mother and a corporate slave: what do I really love doing? What do I want from life? Exploring the "I" has taken prominence, especially in the last five years. 

In that process, my ability to sniff out bullshit from people and situations has become super high. I simply exit when I notice toxic patterns, and I don't ask for explanations. This is relevant across organizations and the people I’ve come across. My life is already a drama, moving from one dramatic scene to the next, with curtains closing and opening from 6:00 AM to 9:00 PM. Now, in the middle of all that chaos, you can either bring me peace and calm, or if you choose to bring further drama, I’ll simply press the exit button. No questions asked, no explanations needed. 

I’ve always chosen to believe actions over words. The only people I live for right now are family and perhaps some very close friends. Everyone and everything else is just a passing fancy, I suppose, if you don’t come through. 

Peace!