I am 35 years old. I have three children. I love my husband, I work full time, I take care of most of my wifely duties each day. Some days are much harder than others (wink). Some days are wonderful. I have been working on establishing a writing career for a year. It has been challenging to say the least. With my full-time job requiring constant attention, the kids, the house, the laundry, the dishes, dinner, my writing has not gotten the attention it needs to become a paying career. I love to write. I really love to write.
The past year of my life has been very interesting. I started a blog. I have performed stand-up comedy. I have been on a talk radio show. I have been featured on some big online publications. I have seen success, just not economic success. I want to one day be able to walk away from my job and launch a writing career that will help pay the bills, and truly feed my soul.
My marriage has struggled this year. My husband is worried that I am searching for a new life. He is concerned that I am unhappy and I will leave. He is worried I will find a new man, and ditch him with the kids. My husband is scared. He is frustrated. He is angry. He is vulnerable. He told me he is worried that I am having a mid-life crisis. That makes me sad.
I don't want to go anywhere. I love my husband. He is my best friend. I would die for him and my children. I wouldn't trade them in for a new sports car version of a man for any amount of money or fame. He is however right: I am searching. I am reinventing myself. I am changing. I am growing. I am in the middle of a Mid-life quest for identity. My identity wasn't lost or stolen. My identity was simply hiding, waiting for the right time to show itself.
I want to obtain my dreams. I want to become the best version of me. I want to be happy in both my professional and personal life. I want to share my voice, my stories, my humor, my tale. I want him to understand that this is not about him, it's about me. This is about my identity, my story.
I have spent the past 12 years of my life devoted to him and the kids. I will continue to be the best wife and mother that I can be. I forget to make dinner some nights. I forget to switch the laundry (every damn time). I forget to pack lunches, but I get up and do it over and over because I love them.
My love for my family and my dream to become a writer are separate. My dreams didn't end when I married. They didn't end when I had kids. They are inside of my heart, waiting, impatiently waiting to be realized. My quest to find my identify will be a benefit to everyone in the family. I am simply trying to be the best me that I have always wanted to be. This is not a mid-life crisis. It is a quest. It's not about him, it's about me.