We have all heard the term "mid-life crisis," but many
religious people believe that the term simply doesn't apply
to them. After all, aging, in our value system, is supposed
to be a positive process since more years bring us more
wisdom and experience. However, in our generation, it is
becoming clear that none of us are immune to the "young is
better" motto of the Western world. Moreover, because most of
us marry and have children earlier than our secular
counterparts, we actually often reach our "mid-life
crossroads" at a much younger age than expected. It used to
be that the fortieth birthday was dreaded as some sort of
indication that we are "over the hill." Now we are seeing
some women feel that sense of dissatisfaction and need for re-
assessment at the age of thirty!
Not every woman experiences this, but the following examples
show how various women between the ages of thirty and forty
are navigating this sense of premature stagnation in their
lives. The following stories show a successful journey
through some difficult crossroads, and each woman uses a
different tool for her journey. The three skills that we see
are: the ability to be open to change, the willingness to use
one's support system and finally, the capacity to find
meaning in one's life.
Openness to Change
Shira — Age 30
I grew up in a large, warm family in Brooklyn. I was a good
student, and I chose to study computer graphics in seminary.
Soon after graduation, I found a job that I liked in a large
firm with a decent salary. I met my husband when I was
twenty, and I continued working during our first year of
marriage while he learned full time. When our first child was
born, we decided that I should stay home with him, and my
husband began part-time work in his father's store. Soon
after, we had our second child and our decision seemed to
make even more sense. Two babies took a lot of work! Then
Hashem blessed us with twins, and so by the time I was twenty-
five, we had four children all under the age of four.
I was very happy just to stay home with the children then.
There was so much to do. I couldn't even imagine doing
anything else with my time. But then on my twenty-ninth
birthday, I suddenly had this weird sense of panic. I said to
myself: Next year I'm going to be thirty! And I felt like I
had nothing to show for myself. What had I really done so far
with my life? When I spoke to my husband about it, he didn't
really seem to understand what I was talking about. He kept
saying that I was accomplishing so much by raising the
children, and that the whole need for "professional success"
was purely a secular concept.
Truthfully, I agreed with him, but I still felt like I was
somehow not using many of the skills that Hashem has granted
to me. But I didn't want to leave the children with a baby-
sitter. For about two months I went through this strange
depression where everything seemed fine on the outside, but I
had this sense of tremendous restlessness. I kept feeling
like time was somehow running out.
This whole stage was heartbreaking for me because I love my
children, and being there for them was definitely my main
life goal. I knew something had to change though. That's when
I started looking for a way to work from my home. And the
amazing thing was that once I was open to change, I began to
notice many opportunities for freelancing jobs in computer
graphics. I knew I was different from the newly married woman
who can work long hours in a prestigious firm. That just
didn't make sense to me anymore. I wanted to be with my
children, but I also wanted to contribute to the outside
world.
Eventually I created my own business at home, and because I
could make my own hours, I didn't feel like I was losing
those precious moments with my children. Next week is my
thirtieth birthday, and when I look back over the past year,
I am proud of how I struggled through my priorities. I think
that I was able to find a successful balance because I was
open to change, and I resisted veering to extremes. I
realized that I didn't have to choose between full-time
motherhood and full-time work. As I enter my 30s, I feel more
whole because I took the parts of my personality that were
somehow being buried in my mothering role and found a way to
use them productively.
Support Systems
Malka, age 35
I grew up in a secular home in California. My parents were
both professionals, and as their only child, I was expected
to climb the ladder of academic success. I did just that for
many years, and I became a very successful lawyer in New
York. One day a few years ago, I was leaving work on a Sunday
afternoon (the new recruits often have to put in overtime)
and I saw a family sitting on the benches by the park. There
wasn't anything extraordinary about this family. They were
religious, as I could see from the kippah on the
father's head, but besides that, they were just a regular
family. But suddenly, I was hit with this overwhelming sense
of loss.
The mother was holding the baby, and the father was playing
catch with their toddler son. And I thought: A family! It was
a new concept for me, since I hadn't really thought about
marriage or children yet. I was 32-years-old and suddenly I
felt like time was running out on me. I became curious about
Judaism, and I started taking some classes nearby. That's how
I ended up in Israel, married with two children, and I was
thrilled to finally have a family of my own.
Then, last year, the diagnosis came. At first I didn't want
anyone to know. I'm the kind of person who hates pity, and I
didn't want anyone's sympathy. I just wanted to go through
the treatments and get back to my life. But it was much
harder than I thought. I was so weak, and the children were
too little to understand. The first time I uttered the words:
"I need help" to one of my friends, I just cried with
relief.
She didn't pity me; she gave me encouragement and strength.
And as I opened up to more of my close friends, I found a
wellspring of warmth and faith. My friends brought me tapes
of shiurim and books and the comfort of their
presence. Today I am in remission, and I don't know how I
would have made it without my friends. In order to use my
support system, I had been forced to overcome a fierce
independence that I used to value above all else. At the age
of thirty- five, I am finally learning the value of inter-
dependence.
Finding Meaning
Chaya — age 46
I grew up in a typical religious family in Chicago. I came to
Israel for seminary, met my husband, and we have been here
ever since. Early on, my husband and I decided that he would
learn, and I would work for as long as possible. I found a
job in a bank that had a decent salary and flexible hours.
When our children were born, I worked part-time and we
managed somehow.
In those years when all my children were little, I was so
busy I didn't really think about any goals beyond getting
through that day. And that was a goal in itself! But as time
went by and the nest began to empty, I started to wonder.
What is it that I'm supposed to be doing with my life? It was
strange, because I still had three children at home, but
suddenly I was looking beyond the home.
There were days when I didn't want to get out of bed. I
wasn't really depressed; I had just lost my motivation for my
daily life. I didn't want a career or anything like that. I
just felt like I had all this potential bottled up inside of
me, and I couldn't figure out how to channel it. One day I
saw an advertisement for an oil painting class. I decided to
sign up.
That was Hashem's gift to me. When I began to paint, I felt
all the pent-up energy flow out of me and onto the canvas.
And I felt like I could finally express the beauty of this
world and help other people access it. Now that I have found
what I call my new purpose in this world, I feel like I can
find my way through what I later saw as a mid-life crisis.
It's true that raising my children is my main vocation. But I
have begun to learn that I am multi-dimensional, and I can
develop different aspects of myself without threatening the
other crucial priorities in my life.
Therefore, we see that openness to change, using one's
support system and finding meaning in one's life, are all
essential to successful navigation of life's stages. However,
there is something else that is a common thread in the above
stories, and that is the willingness to risk. In each of
these women's lives, they came to a point where their
previous assumptions were no longer functioning, and they had
to stand at that cross-roads and ask: What now?
They each could have turned back to the familiar; in the
short term that was definitely the more comfortable path to
take. However, they each had the courage to say: This
isn't working anymore. Now what?
