Stop Blaming the Bus

Taking Command of Your Midlife Stagnation

Right then, let's cut the shite and get down to brass tacks. You're staring down the barrel of forty, maybe already there, and feeling a bit...stuck. Like the engine's sputtering, the map's unclear, and the sheer bloody inertia of existence is threatening to bog you down in the muddy fields of middle age. You're not alone, mate. It's a common battlefield for chaps our age.

We've navigated the initial sorties of career building, perhaps raised a family, and now the landscape's shifting. The youthful vigour might be fading, replaced by a comfortable, sometimes stifling, routine. You're not facing enemy fire, but you're facing something just as insidious: stagnation.

Now, you've handed me some notes, a rather astute dissection of self-accountability. Very good. It's precisely the sort of bedrock principle we need to examine when the going gets tough. Because frankly, at this stage of the game, there's a bloody good chance you're the one standing in your own way.

Let's talk about this "self-accountability" malarkey. It's not about beating yourself up for past mistakes. It's about looking yourself squarely in the eye and owning your abilities, your inabilities (and yes, we all have them, even if we'd rather pretend otherwise), and critically, your actions. Or lack thereof.

Remember Henley's line: "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul." Sounds a bit dramatic, perhaps, but the core truth of it is essential. You are in command of your life, far more than you might realise.

The blokes who hit this point and just drift? They're running on autopilot. They're waiting for some external force to give them a kick up the arse, some reward or punishment to motivate them. They're measuring their worth by someone else's scoreboard. And when things go south – as they inevitably will from time to time – you can bet your last fiver they'll be pointing fingers. Blaming the wife, the boss, the economy, the bloody weather. Anything and everyone but themselves.

And here's where I echo your notes: It's all your fault. And yes, I mean that in the most empowering way possible. Because if it's your fault, then it's also within your power to change it. There is always something, however small, you can do today to make tomorrow better.

Look, life isn't fair. We all know that. You're going to get dealt a few duff hands. The bus will be late, the project will get derailed by some arsehole director, circumstances will conspire against you. Yes, it might not be your fault that a stray bullet goes through your window, but it's bloody well your responsibility to deal with the hole.

My colleague's reaction in your anecdote, while perhaps lacking in tea and sympathy, was brutally effective. "I don't care. It's your responsibility." Get your shit done. Stop making excuses. It's a harsh truth, but it's a necessary one. Because guess what? No one does care about your excuses. Except perhaps your mum, and even she’s probably getting a bit fed up of hearing them by now.

We waste an astonishing amount of energy defending our egos, constructing elaborate narratives to explain why things aren't working out the way we think they jolly well should. We're on "the wrong side of right," focused on proving our point rather than achieving the desired outcome. This energy, this mental bandwidth, could be spent finding a solution.

Think about it. You're stuck in traffic. You can sit there, fuming, cursing the other drivers, the state of the roads, the incompetence of the council. Or you can accept it, put on a podcast, and consider whether this is a chance to think, to plan, to simply be. Your response is within your control, and your response is the only thing that can make the situation better or worse.

The complaining? It's a smokescreen. It's a way of avoiding the uncomfortable truth that we might have played a part in our own predicament. We fight against the feedback the world gives us because we want the world to conform to our expectations, rather than adapting ourselves to reality. And when that doesn't happen, the easiest thing to do is moan. But complaining solves bugger all.

And then there's the victimhood. Oh god, the victimhood. At our age, it’s a particularly unedifying spectacle. Constantly blaming external forces, feeling helpless and powerless. It's a self-inflicted wound that festers and prevents any meaningful movement forward. You are not a victim, unless you choose to be. You are the architect of your habits, and your habits determine your path, and your path determines your outcomes.

Receiving honest, albeit difficult, feedback is a gift. Your father, in that story about the bullying, showed true, difficult kindness. He didn't coddle you. He held you accountable for your choices, even the choice not to act. The things you don'tdo are just as significant as the things you do.

So, if you're feeling that middle-aged slump, that inertia, that sense of being stuck, here's the brutal, liberating truth: Take responsibility. Stop blaming others. Stop complaining. Stop being a victim. Face the reality of your situation, even if it's uncomfortable. And then, and only then, can you start focusing on the next move, the tiny, controllable action that will get you closer to where you want to be.

It's not easy. Nobody said it would be. But it's the only way out of the rut. You control your response. Use that power. Because the alternative is to simply drift, battered by the waves of circumstance, forever wishing the sea was calmer. And frankly, mate, you're better than that. It's time to take the helm.

Life is a constant evolution, a dance with change that shapes who we are and where we’re headed. And just like life, this site is transforming once more. I don’t yet know where this journey will lead, but that’s the beauty of it—each shift brings us closer to where we’re meant to be.

Change is not a sign of uncertainty, but of growth. It’s the path we must take to uncover our true purpose. And while we may not always understand where life is guiding us, it’s in the act of seeking, of embracing the flow, that we discover our direction.

Imagine life as a river, with its tides, currents, and eddies. If we fight against the current, we tire and falter. But if we surrender to it, letting it guide us, we might just find ourselves exactly where we’re meant to be.

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