How to survive a mid-life crisis

I was in the midst of that crisis of middle life. The one that made my eyes roll when I read of white women who felt they had no meaning. It always sounded like they inhabited a fog of luxury-malaise. They had to create drama because they didn’t have enough challenge in their day. So they began dieting, exercising, shopping, and sleeping with friends. Most of them could get away with it easily, thanks to the cluelessness of their husbands who spent most of their time watching sports.

What a cliché.   

I wasn’t on the floor of the bathroom with Elizabeth Gilbert. I couldn’t eat or love my way out of this. My depression was much more boring than that. In fact, when I began to tell people about it, their eyes would glaze over, and they would change the subject. They would mindlessly look down at their phone and start reading their Twitter feed.