Where does life go, am I right? I’ll be 50 soon, and that doesn't even seem possible. Yeah, I had a car accident when I was 24, so I only actually remember 26 years — but still, that’s not really the same as feeling 26 years old. And while all the common concerns of middle age are certainly here (weird pain, loss of hair, unsightly weight gain, etc), the biggest concern is that I just haven’t, “done life” right.
I won’t be able to retire, like, ever. Truly. While I’ve made decent money for half of my grown-up life, we don’t have financial security to show for it. That concerns me, because people my age are supposed to be looking forward to retirement in a few years. If that’s not something we’ll be able to do, what sort of work can I do as I get even older?
Writing is an option I suppose, but let’s be honest, the only time I’ve gotten paid for writing was when I wrote in Linux Journal. And I don’t have the energy for that, even if that sort of writing paid enough to make a living. And it does NOT. Things like YouTube get less and less possible as I get older. I’m not saying it’s strictly a young person’s game, but it gets more difficult to pull in the views when relating to the audience gets harder.
But I digress.
Honestly this bout of negativity sparked from an article a friend shared about a medical test which can detect ADHD. Not an evaluation, but a yes/no test based on some sort of genetic markers or some such thing. It just reminded me that while knowing I have ADHD is a good thing, it doesn’t make the symptoms go away, and it doesn’t change the past 50 years of poor choices and derailed successes. And the test? I actually don’t want to take it if it ever comes to fruition, because even with a very professional diagnosis, I’m still worried I don’t actually have ADHD. Why would that be a bad thing? Because if I *don’t* have ADHD, it means I’m just a loser without any reason other than loser-ness.
Sigh.
This might be the same reason I’m afraid to find a therapist. What if they fix me, and it turns out that the best, most functional version of myself is still unable to be successful? What if my, “wasted potential” is all just because I’m actually lazy, unmotivated, and unworthy? I guess this is my version of men not going to the doctor because avoiding the diagnosis is less traumatic than dealing with the truth.
Sadly, there’s no encouraging message at the end of this journal/blog entry. Sometimes life kicks you in the junk. And it sucks. Getting up afterward has to be enough I guess.
(Dang it, was that an encouraging ending after all? Sigh…)