Defusing The Mid-life Time Bomb

Age yourself by the numbers and you may speed up the process.

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In The Republic, Plato asks, "What is the prime of life? May it not be defined as a period of about 20 years in a woman's life and 30 in a man's?" Maybe this was true in the fourth century B.C., when life was short, but no one should place high value on such sentiments today. Yet as I talk with men and women of all ages, I'm impressed with how preoccupied they seem to be with defining themselves by numbers.

These concerns manifest themselves in many ways. About a year ago a friend of mine, the president of a successful commodities firm, invited me to lunch. "I want to celebrate something very special and share with you something that's of great concern to me," he said. "I've passed a milestone in my life. Today, I am 48 years, six months, and one day old. My father died at 48 years and six months. Living that extra day has helped me over a major hurdle. For years I've been afraid I'd die before my father did." So what was the concern? "Now," he replied, I'm worried about getting older and losing my vitality in middle age."

Like so many with a little gray in their hair, my friend is a victim of the numbers game. Of course, there's nothing really new about defining life's phases according to the calendar. In the '50s, parents were told to worry if their children didn't shape up by age five. A decade later we were told adolescence was the critical time in our development and we focused on the adolescent identity crisis. The radical years of the late '60s switched the emphasis to the college years and early adulthood. Today, it's the "midlife crisis" of 35 to 50 that preoccupies us.

Why should the numbers be so important? After all, as one author recently pointed out, the numbers have become topsy-turvy of late. Witness a 28-year-old big city mayor, a 50-year-old retiree, and a 70-year-old president of the United States.

Nevertheless, many people insist on playing the numbers game, especially at midlife, a time frequently referred to today with words like "male menopause" and the "over-the-hill syndrome." The period has come to represent a special and virulent disorder, usually contracted between the ages of 35 and 50. What's most disturbing is that people who put stock in such dire prognoses for midlife can effect a self-fulfilling prophecy of decline.

The fact is that disappointment, frustration, and the concern about changes in our bodies and our relationships affect thoughtful people throughout their lives. Especially during midlife we can expect to feel some disappointment about what we don't achieve and to feel guilty about things left undone. "The bridges you said earlier you would cross, when you come to them now, have higher tolls," said Frank Braceland, former president of the American Psychiatric Association.

Some people at midlife prepare a personal ledger of accomplishment. Invariably, the losses outweigh the gains. Chipping away at one's achievements are the concerns about having less energy, traveling too much, being too anxious and stressed, and the physical signs of age such as shortness of breath or the need for bifocals. One businessman only half-jokingly remarked, "I find myself turning to the obituary page first, checking on the age of who died, and what they died of. Then I do some mental calculations with regard to my own position."

In my teaching, consulting, and private practice, in which I meet many business executives, it's clear that those who accept aging and the limitations of career and personal relationships that go along with it are able to approach daily life with greater equanimity and fewer fears. They realize that changes occur at every stage of life. They don't anticipate a "crisis." Or, if they do, they take crisis in the sense the Chinese do when they represent the word by combining the characters for "risk" and "opportunity."

These executives also recognize the advantages that accrue with added years. Many people, in fact, develop greater confidence in themselves and their positions. "I've been through the wars and I know where the minefields are," said one 60-year-old executive. "A surprise once in a while doesn't blow me to bits. In fact, I rather look forward to it." The thundering hoofbeats of young hotshots armed with M.B.A.'s and buzz words don't threaten managers when they understand that it takes experience, knowledge, and maturity to make a good manager, not just fluency in Fortran.

What is clear about aging is that people who are busy, committed, and fully involved in projects that are important to them don't seem to find the going so tough while they pass through the inevitable gauntlet of numerical, biological, and social transitions. Not that they don't notice: They do. They just don't fret excessively when the changes occur.

Even past midlife, a person can change. One 50-year-old pension fund manager I know recently took up painting -- something he'd always thought he didn't have time for. A 55-year-old president of a small manufacturing company left the business to fulfill a lifelong desire -- designing toys. Again, they accepted risk plus opportunity.

So I suggest that we not automatically but into the numbers game or use terms like "midlife crisis" without some careful thought. After all, Ben Franklin invented bifocals at 74, Georgia O'Keeffe continues to paint in her 90s, and Sinatra continues to turn people on at 65 -- all living by the maxim of Goya, who in his 80s drew an old man with a long white beard and the words "I am still learning." That, perhaps, is the surest way to beat the numbers game.