Midlife bites Anyone else falling apart, or is it just me?

Jen Mann

Book - 2022

"From the New York Times bestselling author of People I Want to Punch in the Throat comes a smart, funny, personal examination of what it's like to be at the crossroads of a woman's midlife crisis. Jen Mann had what appeared to be the perfect life: a successful career as a bestselling author and award-winning blogger, a devoted husband, teenage kids who weren't total jerks, and a badass minivan. So imagine her surprise when, at forty-seven years old, a midlife crisis kicked her straight in the ladybits. In an attempt to deal with the resulting range of emotions and physical changes in midlife, Jen posted a completely honest now-viral post, "Anyone Else Falling Apart Or Is It Just Me?" The response was instantan...eous and overwhelming. Women from all over the country flooded the comments section, glad to see they weren't the only ones experiencing this feeling of isolation and dissatisfaction. It was the beginning of a movement. Midlife Bites encompasses these important conversations and observations, and creates a space and community for women to navigate through this major point in their lives, together, offering valuable insights and takeaways. Jen shares her own story as well as advice and wisdom from the online community she built. Please note, this is not your mother's midlife crisis. Different from the typical self-help book, Jen tackles everything that bites about midlife and nothing is off-limits with her no-nonsense approach. Subjects include: raging hormones; sex (after forty); finding your purpose; learning to make new friends (yes, even as a grown-up); moving out of your comfort zone; having conversations that count, no more small talk; and how to deal with rogue chin hairs (and other nuisances). Midlife Bites is Jen Mann's call to action. She is leading the movement to create a new space where middle-aged women can share openly and honestly with one another. This no-BS collection of essays will help start the conversation and keep it going, because as women, we all have a right to be happy, fulfilled, and to feel whole, no matter what stage of life"--

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Subjects
Published
New York : Ballantine Books [2022]
Language
English
Main Author
Jen Mann (author)
Physical Description
xxiv, 241 pages ; 21 cm
ISBN
9780593158517
  • Author's Note
  • Introduction
  • How the Hell Did I Get Here?
  • Tap Tap Tap. Anybody Out There? Finding Your People
  • What Are You Even Doing with Your Life? Finding Your Purpose
  • Make Some Fucking Friends Putting Yourself Out There
  • Is That a Hair on My Nipple? And Other Things I Never Thought I'd Ask Learning and Accepting Your Changing Body
  • Who Are You Calling Crazy? It's Okay to Be Mad as Hell
  • Are We Going to Get Divorced? Relationships Take Work
  • Let's Talk About Sex, Baby! Finding Your Pleasure
  • Say Yes More. Unless You Mean No. But Try Yes Leaving Your Comfort Zone
  • No One Gives a Shit About You Stop Worrying About What Everybody Thinks
  • You Will Pee Your Pants And Not in a Good Way
  • Just Be Happy, Damn It! Finding Your Gratitude
  • How Are You? For Real Talking About the Stuff That Matters
  • Self-Care Is the Shit Making Yourself a Priority
  • Why Are My Eyes Such Dicks? Staying on Top of Your Health
  • I Do Everyfuckingthing Asking for Help
  • Next Life, No Men Did I Mention Relationships Take Work? (See Above)
  • Put on Your Big Girl Pants and Try Something Scary Pushing Boundaries
  • Forty Is Fucking Fabulous And So Are Fifty and Sixty, If You Do Them Right
  • Energies and Auras and Spirit Guides, Oh My! Finding a Higher Power
  • I'm Not Everybody's Cup of Tea, and That's All Right Embracing All That Is You
  • Acknowledgments
Review by Booklist Review

"Midlife Bites" started with a post by popular blogger Mann in July 2019. Now the author of the bestselling People I Want to Punch in the Throat series is pushing out an amplified version. This smorgasbord of Mann's wit, wisdom, and grit is geared toward women hitting midlife, or in this instance, midlife crisis. And like her other titles, it's full of laugh-out-loud moments. While her work is funny, it also contains an equally vital component: truth. Mann is willing to write about challenges she has faced head-on, including making friends as an adult, loneliness, body changes (for those who can't afford round-the-clock personal trainers), relationships, and sex. She does it all with her signature voice and plenty of f-bombs, even in the cute "Jen's Gems" spread throughout the text. Books on women and aging are popular, and Midlife Bites stands out for its hilarity. Highly recommended for public libraries.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

When Mann (People I Want to Punch in the Throat)--a self-proclaimed "late bloomer," blogger, and suburban mom--hit her mid-40s, she began to wonder if she was having a midlife crisis: "is that it?"­ she asked herself, "Was watching the entire series of Friends twice really worth it?" In this snarky yet sincere account, she worries that her problems are first world in nature, but her struggles with marriage, money, health problems, and a culture that focuses on women as caretakers but then discards them when their nests become empty will ring as quite real to many readers of her set. Witnessing the self-care boom (and predictable backlash), Mann eschews yoga and meditation in favor of "reading , writing, and napping" as her route to becoming "more empathetic and open minded." Mann is at her sharpest in storytelling anecdotes (such as the distracted "pat" her ob-gyn offers with the news that perimenopausal emotional dysregulation may last five to 15 years), but is decidedly less so when dispensing the flip prescriptive "Jen's Gems" (such as "definitely try crying alone in the garage"). This lighthearted manual feels like a friend to chat with in the corner at an overwhelming party. Erin Niumata & Steve Troha, Folio Literary Management. (Jan.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

Best-selling essayist Mann (People I Want To Punch in the Throat) issues a rallying cry for women to boldly live their lives during a midlife crisis. At age 47, feeling dissatisfied with her life, Mann sought out information about midlife crises from women's perspectives. When her search yielded no helpful results, she created an online community called Midlife Bites and received a resounding wave of support and empathy. In this book, inspired by the confessions disclosed within the group, Mann shares her own midlife experiences, in humorous and honest anecdotes peppered with "Jen's Gems" of advice. She addresses many aspects of women's physical, mental, and emotional well-being, including making friends, dealing with health issues, finding gratitude, maintaining sexual relationships, and bolstering self-confidence. Mann encourages readers to find their own ways to voice their difficulties, noting "We all have our struggles, but they're worse when we hide them." VERDICT Mann's acerbic and unfiltered style will have readers laughing from start to finish. This is an entertaining and enjoyable complement to medicine-focused books on menopause and a refreshing change of pace from heavier self-help works. Recommended for collections where humorous nonfiction is in demand.--Anitra Gates, Erie Cty. P.L., PA

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Chapter 1 How the Hell Did I Get Here? I don't know about you, but for me, midlife came out of nowhere and kicked me square in my lady garden. To tell the truth, I thought I'd dodged that whole midlife slump I'd caught older women whispering about when they didn't think I was listening. I was a late bloomer and really didn't come into my own until my thirties, so by the time I landed on forty, I was actually feeling great. A few years before, I'd started a blog called "People I Want to Punch in the Throat," which ultimately helped me develop my career as a writer, something I'd dreamed about since I was five years old. I was married to a man who adored me. My kids were pretty cool, and, most important, everyone was finally potty-trained. And most important of all, everyone was healthy. I lived in a nice home in a safe community where I tooled around in a sweet-ass minivan I'd bought myself with my own money. From the outside it looked like I had a great f***ing life. But then one morning I woke up with a groan (because it seemed like once I hit forty-five I never woke up again without a groan) and took a long, painfully honest look in the mirror. Something I hadn't done in quite some time. Every wrinkle, every gray hair, every soft and sagging body part came into sharp focus. I grimaced and finally noticed my bathroom counter was littered with miracle creams and serums, reading glasses, vitamins, and assorted prescription drugs for recently diagnosed ailments I thought only grandmothers suffered from. I tried to focus on the positive: I've never been a stunner, so fading looks shouldn't bother me too much, I reasoned. I've always been praised for my . . . ​my what? Oh, yeah, my quick wit. Only that was fading too. Shit. When did my brain turn into a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal? (I would later try to blame my foggy brain on the prescription cocktail I take for my old lady disease, but my doctor assured me my brain wasn't in danger because the side effects would only destroy my liver. So, yay?) I popped a handful of drugs plus my daily Aleve into my mouth and muttered, "When the hell did this happen?" I looked at my phone, as if Google might have an answer for me. Instead, I saw my overstuffed calendar mocking me with a message in all caps announcing my forty-seventh birthday just a few days away. Forty-seven already? It hit me that I was in the middle of my life (probably even past the middle if I wanted to get real depressing) and when I took stock of all the things I'd accomplished and accumulated over those forty-seven years, I felt incredibly underwhelmed. Half my life was over in a blink, and what did I have to show for it? Is this all there is? For months, maybe even years, I'd been ignoring the slow, simmering buildup of my emotions, but that day it felt different. That day I couldn't ignore them and I couldn't stop them from boiling over. Before I could say "Shut it down!" I felt the floodgates open. All the thoughts and feelings I'd turned a blind eye to and had been pushing down deep daily, tumbled out all at once. My brain might be foggy, but it can still be a real asshole. That day my brain was a total asshole. It's all downhill from here, Jen. What the f*** are you doing with your life? What have you accomplished? How will you retire? Have you seen your bank account? I know you made money. Where the hell did it go? Have you seen what your neighbor Elizabeth has done? She runs her own company plus she founded a charity this year. Oh, and let's not forget, she still finds time for daily workouts to keep her body rocking, plus weekly date nights, and mind-blowing sex with her smoking-hot husband. When was the last time you had anything mind-blowing that wasn't a dessert? Do you even remember how to do sex, Jen? Furthermore, she's a supermom who still reads to her kids every night before bed. Yeah, they're fourteen and sixteen, but they want to spend time with her. When was the last time your kids wanted anything from you except money, Jen? Is this it? Is this all you're going to do? Wasn't there supposed to be more? You had bigger plans than a minivan, a couple sassy kids, and a grumpy husband, didn't you? Why did you waste so much time? Was watching the entire series of Friends twice really worth it? Should you cut your bangs? Bangs always make you feel better. Well, really, the idea of bangs makes you feel better. Because bangs always look awful on you. Don't cut your bangs--or do. Maybe this time will be different . . . ​what do you have to lose? Why are you so unhappy? Why are you so mad? Seriously. This amount of anger isn't normal. When did you start feeling this way? Why is this happening? You're the only one who feels like this, Jen. You're all alone. You're obviously broken. I was falling apart. Losing my mind. Going crazy. Whatever you want to call it. I was spiraling out of control and couldn't stop. I was paralyzed by the fear of moving forward and the disappointment of what had already passed me by. I was consumed with the idea that I'd already failed and there was nothing I could do to make it better. What was the point? The "good" years were behind me and now I was "too old" to do anything amazing. Nope. All I could look forward to was old age and death. And then, in case I wasn't feeling bad enough, along came the shame for even feeling this way. Are you kidding me right now with this shit? What is going on with you, Jen? Did I miss something? Are you living in a tent? Are you running for your life? Are you in an abusive relationship? Are you chronically ill? Are you dying? Is your child dying? No! Of course not. You're wallowing! There are so many people out there who have it worse than you. Who do you think you are? What makes you think you're so special? What makes you think you deserve more? There are people who would kill for your life, you tiny, self-absorbed, insufferable cow. You need to buck the f*** up, Buttercup, put on that happy face and just be grateful for what you have! Let's get real, it's not like I ever thought I'd cure cancer or broker world peace, but I did think that by this point in my life I'd have done more. I thought I'd have more. More love. More passion. More life experience. More money in the bank. More success. More friends. More self-worth. More happiness. More everything. And weren't you supposed to have your shit together by forty-seven? Forty-seven is a serious age for serious women. Women who are forty-seven have robust retirement accounts, keep their cars properly maintained, and floss daily. Women who are forty-seven order side salads instead of fries and have a contact in their phone for everything from gutter cleaning to math tutors to bikini waxing to marriage counselors. Women who are forty-seven throw enormous parties to celebrate twenty-five years of wedded bliss and say things like they can't wait for another twenty-five years--and mean it! I couldn't even match my bra and underpants on a daily basis, how was I expected to have my entire life sorted? And while some of it was my fault because I'd wasted the first thirty years of my life on bad perms, dating f***wits, working at dead-end jobs, and watching the entire series of Friends not twice, but three times, actually, I had to hand over some of the responsibility for my general malaise and lack of accomplishments to the universe. I'd tried doing things the right way, but no matter what I did, I found I could never get ahead, and I was drowning. Due to the shitty economy we'd survived and my equally shitty spending habits, we were nowhere near as financially sound as other forty-seven-year-olds. My marriage was relatively solid, but at that point the Hubs and I were more like business partners or roommates than lovers. The spark was dimming, if not completely extinguished. I felt like a failure in every aspect of my life. My teenage kids would be leaving home soon and I'd no longer have that buffer between me and him. How would we fill the silence in our house? What would we talk (and fight) about once the kids went to college? Oh, God, even worse, what if the kids never left home? I worried that I hadn't prepared them to fly the nest. That I hadn't raised contributing members of society. What if they took up permanent residence in my basement and refused to budge from the couch except for the occasional bathroom break or to get more snacks? Where did all of this anxiety and self-doubt come from? I wondered. If anything, I'd been a cocky bitch for the previous ten years, and suddenly I couldn't sleep at night because on top of financial woes, relationship problems, and impostor syndrome, I was worried about dumb shit too, like whether Delia from fifth grade was still mad at me for stealing her favorite pencil. And don't even get me started on my lack of ambition. I mean, I barely wanted to get out of bed and take a shower, let alone go anywhere. If it required putting on pants or a bra, I wasn't going. It wasn't worth the effort to make myself presentable and to engage in mindless small talk with people I didn't even like very much. Excerpted from Midlife Bites: Anyone Else Falling Apart, or Is It Just Me? by Jen Mann All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.