I will turn forty this year, and for some, they look at this number as if their lives are ending. For me, I see it as a new beginning. One where I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I am doing things now that bring more happiness than I ever did in my youth. It might be because when I was younger, I was worried about what others thought. I’m not sure why I cared since none of those people mattered, and this mindset was without the pressure of social media. 

There is a joke circulating social media about the Millennials, those born between ‘81 – ‘86, asking us what is going to define our midlife crisis. First off, rude. I don’t think any of us are mentally aware that we are reaching this point in our lives. We’re just a bunch of 26 year olds still trying to figure life out. However, they ask if:

• get a divorce (did that before 30 so check)
• get a Cybertruck ( I guess the sports cars are out of the picture)
• join a run club (does getting back into swimming count)
• move to NYC (no thanks)
• get an air fryer (already have one and it makes the best french fries
• pickle ball (absolutely not)
• launch your social media career (for some reason my film teacher account does better than this one)
• DYI home improvement (that sounds dangerous for my husband and expensive)
• become a fancy alcoholic or go sober (i guess sober ish because being hungover teaching high schoolers or handing my feral 3 year old is out of the question)
• cuss out your boss (no thanks, mine is awesome)
• rewatch anything Anthony Bourdain (not a bad idea)
• start therapy (I’ve flirted with this in my 30’s)
• switch back to a flip phone (oh I love mine) 
• get your MBA (hmmmmmm)

Well, I picked my midlife crisis. 

I decided instead of leaning into torturing my husband with making our townhouse extra cute, I would torture him another way. Somehow this fall, we will have the logistical nightmare of getting my oldest to travel baseball, my middle to swimming, and entertaining the feral youngest while I am going back for my Master’s in Producing for Film and Television. 

Why on earth would I decide to continue my education over a decade later? Especially since I call myself the worst teacher ever, because I do not encourage all my students to go to college. I do this weird thing and talk to them and find out what they enjoy in life and direct them to trade schools or the military or some other avenue of adulting. 

Last year I met a woman who had her masters in film. I asked, “What have you made?” and she looked confused. While her masters was in film, it was either in the history or theory of film. She had never picked up a camera before. I was astonished that someone who spent that much money on her education had no interest in creating the medium she studied. 

This conversation pushed me over the edge to stop toying with the idea of completing my education. This wasn’t a decision I made on a whim. For years I had been playing with the idea of earning my masters. For a brief moment, I flirted with pursuing journalism, but I’ve worked in the field for too long. If I were going to do this, I would not chicken out anymore and finally go all in with film. I know if I settled for journalism, I would regret not taking this chance to do what I’ve always wanted.

A few people I’ve talked to about returning to school have asked, “Are you going for education?” and my answer is no. This causes some confusion, since teaching has become my profession. And when I explain I am going back for film, with a focus on screenwriting, it hurts their brains more. Film and writing are not only my passion, but I also TEACH film and all that goes into that profession. Containing my education, even if I don’t pursue film professionally, will help me as an educator. 

I will allow myself to be held back by this mindset, nor will I allow ‌fear to control me any longer. This is the fun part of growing up, where you just don’t give a fuck anymore. I already put my writing out there for people to judge. Why not learn another way to subject the world to the crazy thoughts that live inside my head. If anything, these next two years will round out how I torture my students. I’m sure they will love all the new lessons and activities that come out of this midlife crisis.