The first thing I think about when someone says “midlife” is the word, “crisis.” This is followed by a mental image of a balding, overweight guy (no doubt wearing socks with sandals), driving a new convertible. In my case, nothing could be further from the truth. Well, actually. Some truth. I’ve never driven a convertible.

But I am 47 years old, a dog owner, a husband to my husband, a son, a grandson, an uncle, a friend, and a lover of the Oxford comma (not necessarily in that order). After some life-and-death curve balls three years ago and a nagging fear my midlife may actually have passed years ago, I have to admit I’m not the person I used to be. That person wasn’t perfect, but I had spent my entire life- all of it- learning to be that person. Much of him is still around, I think, but not all. I am… well, modified. But who exactly am I now? Where did I come from and who do I want to be? I’m going to journal every day and see if I can figure this shit out. I’m going to hang on to these journal entries for a month or so, then post a couple from each week here in this blog. Join me if you like…

Journalling and blogging agreement:

Try to keep a private daily journal and a public blog (yes, this one!)
Try to incorporate a photo, screen shot, or image of some sort.
Try not to beat myself up. It’s okay just to post an image instead of writing. Try to write, but don’t feel guilty for not writing.
Try not to post blog entries from my journal for at least a month. Give yourself some time to reflect. It’s okay if the blog runs a month behind the journal. Reserve the right and freedom to go back and edit, add an update, or create a blog version different from the journal version.
Try to incorporate some history, vivid memories. Gotta love a good flashback!
Don’t fuck anyone over. Publicly, that is. In the private journal, fine. But not in the blog.
I reserve the right to change the terms of this agreement without notice at any time, for any reason. Because that’s just the way we roll around here.
Above all, practice writing, practice taking pictures, and practice being a good person. ‘Cause practice makes perfect. [insert groan here]