Abre Los Ojos: Writing a New Narrative

I found a grey hair on my head today. The first one. Kinda long too. On my left side-burn. They have been slowly populating my beard—when I have one—for a years now. But somehow, this one on my left side-burn felt really...significant. I remember thinking something like, "Well, that's it then." Not exactly sure what the "it" is. Something like the beginning of the end of my youth, even though I haven't been what people consider "young" in a long time.

But before the I found that hair, I could still feel my youth behind me and reach back and sort of fondle it. Now it's just outside of my reach. I can't feel it anymore. My youth  was a lifetime ago. Something that happening to some kid who might as well have been somebody else. We just happen to share a name, relatives, and some memories. Our interpretation of those memories, however, are very different.

Further evidence of the death of my youth:

I'm approaching 40, I have two children, I'm on the brink of getting divorced, I have a decent paying career that I am deeply dissatisfied with, etc. My generation's parents are now senior citizens. Elderly. My boys aren't babies anymore, yet they are still so little and fragile. But they also are getting big fast. Yesterday (figuratively), my wife and I were young kids flirting around at the college both attended. It was so god damn fun.

So what the fuck happened? Where did those kids go? Where have I gone? Who am I now?

And perhaps most telling, I identify, very deeply, with Louis C.K. The man is fucking brilliant.

It's not that I worship the young. I hate the worship of youth in this country. I hated it when I was a part of that marketing demographic.

But the discovery of a grey hair is like this creeping death.

So clearly I'm going through a significant life transition with the divorce and everything. And life transitions always entail an identity crisis of some kind. Not the more well known identity crisis associated with adolescence. And not the cliched "mid-life crisis." This is the less popular and less "exciting" identity crisis of post-adolescence, pre-middle-age.

So there it is: a fucking  identity crisis. Death of an old self and the rebirth of a new. Just like Campbell said.

I can't see beyond the now though. I have to relearn how to open my eyes.