There I was, chillaxing, having a solitary liquid brunch, free to fully indulge my drunkorexic tendencies without guilt because my manny (he's a dream) was watching the kids, when I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of dread. Well, not quite dread. I mean, dread was there, don't get me wrong, but it was more like, "Oh no, did I make the right decisions in my life?" and "I'm getting old," coupled with, "Ow! Balancing things is just so hard," "Agh! Life!" and "Thirtysomething was a really, really relatable show." Ten minutes on the emotional roller coaster later, I found myself curled up in a fetal position on the floor of my husband's walk-in closet, crying on his dark brown, strappy mandals, blubbering something about going to buy the Thirtysomething DVD. Weird, right?
But as it turns out, I didn't have a psychotic break (and not just because I made up that whole scene). According to this article, I was just in the throes of a severe Thrisis. My dull, trivial, age-related angst has a name! A really, really stupid name!
From the Times Of London:
If you're in your mid-thirties, hassled by the dramas of juggling work and family, doubting decisions you've made professionally and personally, panicked by the ageing process and dismayed that your years of snogging in nightclubs are behind you, then you're probably in the grip of an early midlife crisis – otherwise known as a thrisis.