I could easily classify the 2007 breakdown spiritual awakening as a midlife crisis. I simply choose not to because that’s so damn predictable. But, just between you and me, I’m quite sure that it was exactly that.

Today, on my 43rd birthday, I feel very contemplative about midlife, what I’ve learned, and how I want to live out the second part of this "wild and precious life."

Maybe midlife is really about midlove. We're at the halfway mark of loving ourselves. I think the big midlife/midlove adventure starts when we ask these questions, and is quickly followed by the midlife crisis, which happens when we begin to examine our answers.

Am I still desperatly searching for belonging?

Do I still feel empty even though I have most of the things that were supposed to make me feel happy and whole?

As time begins to move faster, am I spending any of it doing work that I truly love?

Am I really treating the important people in my life like they are the most important?

Am I missing the joyful, ordinary moments in my life because I’m too busy chasing down that elusive, extraordinary life.

What is my body trying to tell me about the way I'm living? What is it willing to do to make me listen?

Am I stifling my creativity because it feels too indulgent or I don’t have the courage to risk imperfection?

Am I too busy accumulating and proving myself to be still and be grateful for what I have?

Am I becoming increasingly judgmental toward others because I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own limitations?

Am I becoming more self-protected because my vulnerability is increasingly undeniable?

Am I tired of being angry and resentful because no one can guess what I need, what I feel and what I think - and am I too scared to tell them?

Am I weary from wanting others to celebrate my accomplishments and successes, when I don't even value my worth enough to celebrate it by myself?

Am I more certain and definite because faith is too big of a risk in our uncertain world?

Can I stop being who I am supposed to be long enough to figure out who I am?

I think midlife/midlove is all about this one question: “Am I really living an authentic life?”

In November of 2006, I was burnt-out, exhausted, afraid, starting to feel emotionally disconnected from my friends and family, and staring down the barrel of my own definition of authenticity. Based on my 8 years of data collection, I was writing a definition of authenticity to put into the academic literature.

It’s hard to explain what I felt when I looked at my own definition. I was so proud that it accurately reflected all of my research on shame and compassion, but, at the exact same time, it was excruciatingly painful. I wasn’t living this way. I was crushed.

That damn definition (along with the guideposts for living) was so terrifying that I spent all of 2007 trying to discredit the importance of my own research. I spent one year screaming, “I will be authentic without giving in! I will not change! You can’t make me feel all of these things!”

It was a year-long, no-holds-barred, street fight with vulnerability and uncertainty. I got my ass kicked and, with great humility, became the kind of person that I had spent my entire adult life making fun of. The truth is that I lost the fight, but I found me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. And, while the year was grace-filled, it was anything BUT graceful.

Today, for the first time in my life, I feel real. I feel authentic. I feel seen. Not perfectly and not everyday, but more days than not. The strangest part of this new experience for me is the unexpected freedom.

For years, my goal was being liked, respected and fitting in (the trifecta of belonging). I was masterful at becoming the person I needed to be to fit in with every group in my life (my colleagues, my friends, my family, the PTO, the soccer moms, the activists, the strangers looking me up and down at church or the mall, the people in the audience, my publisher, my readers, etc.). When I didn’t achieve all three, I felt intense fear, vulnerability, and shame. It’s a hard way to live, but most of us know it.

The remarkable thing about authenticity is liberation. If I bring me . . . if I let myself be seen and known . . . if I keep it honest and real, there is no risk of failure. The goal has changed from being liked, respected, and "fitting in" to really practicing authenticity. If I can bring that, then I automatically belong to the most important person – me! I automatically belong to me. My sense of belonging is not up for grabs. It’s not dependent on the right shoes or the right politics or the right book sales.

I want to live the second half of my life in an authentic, imperfect, messy way. I’m getting better at it, but it’s still so hard when I’m in fear, shame, and vulnerability. Protecting myself with perfectionism, eating too much, being (and acting) definite and certain, working too much, taking on too much, spending too much, hiding too much, lashing out, blaming, staying busy – these are all so seductive when I’m feeling vulnerable.

My next book is a very personal account of 2007, and just writing about the street fight and my desperate reactions can trigger intense feelings of fear and push me away from authenticity. I keep thinking, “Do I really want people to see this side of me?” Luckily, there’s a lot to laugh about in these stories and that always keeps me humble and breathing.

As I sit here writing this on my birthday, I think the best wish for today is simply to keep practicing authenticity – one day at a time.