The Deeper Meaning of Midlife Unraveling

Trusting the whisper from your soul that something isn’t right in your life can unleash confusion and guilt about not being happy when you think you should be. The fear of knowing your buried truth can overwhelm you, but ignoring what’s bubbling beneath the surface can turn you into a walking volcano. 

A dramatic event might bring you to your knees, and then you must choose how to let go of the angst: explore your unconscious or seek refuge in distractions that bring short-term relief. 

Your mind will often try to prevent you from tapping into the wisdom of your unconscious, which isn’t obliged to conventional ideas. You’ll need to learn the language of the soul, which speaks through emotions, synchronicity, health problems, relationship conflict, and dreams. 

Exploring my dreams helped me navigate my midlife unraveling:

I was 38 and in control of my life until … one day, on a walk, I gazed up at the sunshine sparkling through rustling leaves. Warmth turned to heartache. I didn’t want to know that I wasn’t entirely happy. Over the next 10 years, I had this recurring dream: 

I’m running scared through my childhood home.
I go down to the basement, trying to hide from armed mercenaries.
They’re chasing me! What do they want?
I run outside in the dark, hiding behind houses.
I’m afraid they’re going to kill me.

At 48, I was on track until … one day, while having a conversation while walking with my family, the déjà vu moment of conflict and exhaustion stopped me in my tracks. Instead of talking about it, I kept walking. That night, paging through a magazine, the fiery red logo for a graduate school screamed that it was the answer to what I didn’t know. 

Pursuing the MA/PhD in “depth psychology” terrified and liberated me simultaneously. I didn’t know why or how it would help me, but I knew it would save my soul. I lived all the concepts in real time, including exploring that recurring dream with my imagination. 

I sneak into my childhood home through the inside garage door.
There’s a man but no gun; he’s just sitting there.
Something makes me associate him with my husband.
As I come closer, I notice he’s just a shadowy figure.
I sit down into the shadow; I’m surprised …
I feel nothing.

Becoming aware of the hidden guilt of not wanting to be married anymore brought a twinge of relief, but now a new recurring dream took its place: 

I’m panicking because my teeth are crumbling.
I desperately shove my fingers into my mouth,
trying to hold my teeth in place.

I woke up panicked every time until I stopped trying to control my falling apart. The dream went away.

By 51, I had divorced, gotten a new job, and was working on getting accepted into the PhD program. I was also taking a break after a series of encounters with younger men who helped me come into a deeper relationship with my sexuality. I felt in control of my life until… one day at the beach, I got swept up by another younger man. I thought I was having fun until … I had this dream. 

I’m in a restroom at a state park; it’s cold, dark, and empty.
I’m scared because I can’t see my way out.
I slowly walk with my hands out in front of me,
dragging my feet across the floor until I find the doorway.
Suddenly, I fall backward down the hill.
There’s only blackness, but the soft, warm breeze,
and freshly fallen leaves cradle me.
I feel so trusting.

The feeling of safety surprised me. Drawing my dream with my hands beneath my falling body brought inner stability to my chaotic life. The dream was my psyche’s way of assuring me that I would survive my ironic, dramatic, and transformative first post-divorce relationship. Ending that relationship unleashed my creativity and a renewed sense of purpose. My journey hasn’t ended, and my dreams continue to guide my unfolding.

Are you brave enough to surrender to the mystery of your unconscious, which will seduce you little by little into the future version of yourself?