The accidental realtor on “the search for purpose continues..."

I’ve heard the term, “mid-life crisis” used on more than one occasion, and it usually follows some mention of a man in his mid to late forties, a convertible, a perm, a sudden gym membership, whispers of an affair, and an impending divorce.

Far be it from me to be judgmental, “mid-life crisis” is not a term I reserve only to the male species. Over the years, I’ve seen a number of females make drastic life changes after they hit 40, and often this involves an obsession with the preservation of youth, an unforeseen fall from child rearing and domestic bliss, followed by a complete wardrobe overhaul from mom jeans to mini-skirts, and finally, the disintegration of the marriage. 

What does being a real estate agent have to do with “mid-life crisis”? Simple - it all boils down to men and women and their innate need for purpose. For me, the move from writer to realtor was never on my bucket list. In fact, it took a job lay off for me to spend a few months wandering aimlessly through want ads, trendy coffee shops, and the self-help aisle at the local box bookstore. I had worn many hats in my 40 plus years - from 80’s aerobics instructor to the secretarial pool, cubicle world, to wife, mother, writer, and now - now what?

I always thought I would be found dead in my late nineties, hunched over my keyboard, writing yet another humorous column for my local newspaper. But it was not meant to be. The universe had other plans for me, and all I had to do was figure out where to start.

A conversation laden with self-pity, shared with a dear friend miraculously shone light at the "end of my career" tunnel. "Why don't you just go back to school and become a real estate agent like I did?” This from the mother of four sons - two over the age of 16 and two under the age of 6?

“Well heck! If she could do it, why can’t I?” Within minutes I was enrolled in real estate school.

That was three years ago, and I have never looked back.

Do I miss my “old world” of  Italian over-mothering, volunteering for every school function and field trip, all while meeting deadlines as the village newspaper reporter - you bet I do. But I  love my “new world”  real estate has created for me - flexible hours, meeting many new and interesting people, forever learning, this thing called “networking”, and the sound of  my metal sign frame piercing into the lawn of a new listing, and don’t even get me started on the thrill of flipping over the For Sale sign to the SOLD side. I lay awake at night, not mulling over complicated closings, or failed home inpsections, but rather, on which outfit I will don the next day. Looking professional and polished has never been more exciting, and as far as the suits, shoes, purses and accessories are concerned, after spending too many lonely days and nights hanging out in drawers and on cushioned hangers, the collection is finally living out it's purpose, hence, silencing husband once and all. The days of "who on earth needs that many outfits?" are a distant memory, as I strut passed him in the hallway, in a vintage Chanel suit and Ferragamo classic black stiletto pumps.

Yes to every season there is a purpose, and to every suit and shoe, an occasion.