Lost Youth

In my mind’s eye, I am 27. So you can imagine my surprise every time I walk past the mirror and see the reflection of a pleasantly plump, middle-aged woman with crow’s feet and age spots.

As a young woman, I was audacious and adventurous. In college, I worked as a mountain guide in Colorado. I rowed in the Head of the Charles and missed first place by four-tenths of a second in the women’s four. After college, I backpacked around the world on my own for 18 months on nothing but a whim and a prayer. I stayed in tents, yurts, hostels, and shady hotels. I hiked the Annapurna trail and rafted down the Karnali river. I got sick at the Taj Mahal and rode in the overhead luggage compartment on trains. I jungle trekked in Sumatra and scuba dived on the Great Barrier Reef.

Then I want to medical school and law school, followed by a four-year residency. A decade gone in the blink of an eye, while my passport sat idle in a drawer and my camping equipment stayed boxed up in the basement. But that was okay, because there was the promise of freedom when I was done.

After residency, I got married and entered the child-bearing years, followed by the toddler-raising years. Having babies was wonderful and rewarding but also challenging and exhausting. My first child knew at the age of four months in the baby carrier that she did not like hiking! After the birth of my second child, the dog stopped bothering me for walks because he knew it was futile.

Now, 17 years after starting medical school, I have a 3-year-old and 5-year-old. We are entering a new phase, where camping, bike riding, and travel are all become possibilities again!

BUT I HAVE LOST MY YOUTH!

I am out of shape. My right knee hurts after chronic inflammation during my first pregnancy. I don’t want to stay in seedy hotels, although my student loans suggest that is where I should stay. I am trying to build a career as a managing partner in my small group, and that takes time. My husband is building his dream resort on the beach in his home country of Indonesia (yes—we met on the above-mentioned world tour) and that takes money!

I think this new phase of life is called . . . a midlife crisis. Yup, that’s what this is.

But wait—don’t get worried that I am stuck in a deep depression or that I am going to go buy a fast car, a big boat, or run off with the cabana boy. I am not. Weight can be lost, knees can be rehabbed, student loans paid back, and new adventures had.

I just want to take a moment to acknowledge the feelings many us middle-agers (women and men) are experiencing and say you are not alone! I hear you.

Sarah Hoper
MD, JD