Lee Suckling: Why going through a midlife crisis can actually be a good thing

You don’t know you’re having a midlife crisis when you’re in it. It’s like a low-level trauma you learn to live with. Photo / Supplied

They say midlife crises are supposed to last 3-10 years in men (and 2-5 years in women). Sounds like a long time to be in a state of flux, right?

I can look back at the last year of my life and now clearly see I’m coming out of my midlife crisis. And boy, does it feel good to be here.

Going through a midlife crisis (and naming it so) is something I’ve never heard another person admit before. The concept itself seems so 90s to me. Here’s the common folklore for a man’s purported crisis.

He is 41 or 42. He’s married and has some money, but he’s feeling a bit lost. He can finally say youth is in his rear window and thinks of younger people as the “kids these days”. His career is going alright. Not quite what he’d imagined, but he doesn’t hate it. His friendship group has shrunken. He likes travelling and partying but gets tired a lot easier these days. Midnight is an ideal bedtime for a night out.

So he starts behaving in weird and lavish ways. He buys a Porsche. He considers consulting cosmetic professionals about his skin and hair, because he wants them both to stay where they are. He buys Armani jeans and Prada sunglasses because they make him feel cool. He experiments with drugs but in a sporadic and considered way.

Yet underneath it all, he has some depression. Life just isn’t quite enough, and he can’t figure out what’s wrong.

Now that I’ve painted that 90s-era version of a midlife crisis for you, I can tell you it’s mostly true. With some liberties taken, that’s the story of my last 12 months. I recognise that – at almost 38 – my midlife crisis has happened a bit early, but everything is faster in the 2020s isn’t it?

You don’t know you’re having a midlife crisis when you’re in it. It’s like a low-level trauma you learn to live with.

You don’t find the same old things as much fun as you used to. You’re always coping, but sometimes feel like you’re barely keeping your head above the water. You’ve survived a few major life events, but the breaks between them seem really short and there’s always another calamity around the corner to mitigate. Someone close to you has died. For the first time ever, your parents’ mortality plays on your mind sometimes. You might have even lost one.

But then there’s a turning point. A realisation that you’ve become a really strong person through all the crap. You like yourself. All of a sudden, you know who you are. You understand that life is going to keep throwing rocks at you, and it will suck, but you’ll survive too. You have confidence in the next stage in your life, even though you don’t know what exactly that looks like or what happens next.

There’s power in this. The end of my midlife crisis culminated with a couple of things.

But then there’s a turning point. A realisation that you’ve become a really strong person through all the crap. Photo / Getty Images

First was a few sessions of therapy so I could self-acknowledge where I was and accept that.

Then was the resignation of a job I wasn’t satisfied in, and the signing of a new contract for something new and exciting.

Soon after, an amazing trip – to Sydney for WorldPride – where I met amazing people, had brand new conversations that solidified my journey in the last year, learned my new limits of partying, swam in the ocean, and came home satisfied with what was waiting at home for me.

Finally, there was a really big cry. An ugly, loud, eye-bawl (the catalyst for the tears being a movie) as I realised I was at the end of something.

This is where I’ve arrived at. Where you’re meeting me now. It’s been wild and intense and truly vital in my adult development.

In an episode of the recent season of The White Lotus, the character Daphne says, “I feel sorry for men. They think they’re out there doing something really important, but they’re just wandering alone.”

But if you’re reading this and any of it rings true, dude, you’re not alone. I’m with you. We’re all in this together.