Guerrilla Aging: Finding That Happy Medium

Posted on April 19, 2014




The following is a guest post by Rebecca Latson. Photographers usually turn their lenses onto others.  Now, Rebecca summons up her courage to turn her lens onto herself.  You can visit Rebecca at Rebecca Latson Photography and


I’m turning 53 this April 2014.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a mid-life crisis (MLC) before.  I’ve watched others go through it – mainly men.  I actually thought that MLCs were solely a guy thing occurring once they reached a certain age.  Then, the other evening while watching one of my favorite SyFy television programs and metaphorically drooling over an actor on that show who (whom?) I think is one sexy dude (probably one of the only reasons I watch the show) and who I continually look up on the internet, I came to the realization that perhaps I am going through my own little MLC – that, or else hormones I thought moved out when I turned 40 are starting to move back home because they can’t find a job.

Life is good.  I get to travel to really cool places for photography throughout the year (I live for my vacations), I’m doing well at my (non-photographic) day job, my mother and sister and her family  love me and I love them, and I have a few good friends that I treasure as I do my camera gear (which is saying a lot, believe me).  All-in-all, things could be a helluva lot worse.  So WTF is my problem? 

Nah, I don’t want a little sports car or a 20-something man-child (unless I want to feel like a pedophile, which I definitely do NOT).  But, as of late, I find myself acting much like I did after my divorce some 19 years ago:  trying to look and feel….well…attractive.  To that extent, I’ve been getting daily exercise and watching what I eat so I can get in better shape for my upcoming photo travels.

I’m missing out on something, but I can’t quite put a finger on it.  Perhaps because it probably deals with relationships, and I’m one of those people who shudder at the thought, since I don’t like people and I am not a kid person.  I LOVE my independence:  I always travel solo, I go where I want, when I want, to do what I want.  I buy what I want, eat what I want, dress how I want.  Nobody tells me what to do (ok, except for my supervisor at my day job).   I don’t want to talk to strangers (nor do I want them talking to me), I don’t want some dude older than I trying to chat me up because he needs a nurse-mate and I look like a wonderful potential candidate.  I like being alone……but maybe not all the time anymore.  Maybe I need to find a happy medium; I’m pretty damned picky, though, as I feel I have a right to be, even at 53.  Don’t ever let others tell you that at a certain age, you shouldn’t be picky.  Fuck that shit.

You will not find me using (that makes me want to vomit).  You will not find me at a church social (I’m agnostic bordering on atheism), you will not find me at political rallies and you will not find me frequenting bars.  You will find me on organized photo tours and hikes with a naturalist (like the ones I am taking while in Alaska this year).  It’s a small thing, for me, but it’s a start.  Right?

I don’t know how this story will end, so this post is kind of short.  All I can say is that I’m working on that “happy medium” thing.  Even at 53, it’s not ever too late.


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