Every person ages, though few like to admit it. We prefer the glow of our youth—when everything felt strong, certain, and inevitable—we recoil from the mirror’s reflection that tells a harsher truth. The United States is now, as an aging adult, staring down its own midlife crisis: restless, nostalgic, anxious about declining vitality, and unsure of its purpose. And like any midlife crisis, it is largely self-inflicted.
As a fledgling republic, we leaned heavily on foreign counsel and support, learning to stand upright on principles whose ink was still wet. We quarreled with the empire that birthed us, a restless adolescent convinced that independence alone equaled maturity. In our late teens, our Manifest Destiny carried us across a continent—eager, energized, and careless. We violated Indigenous sovereignty, claimed vast stretches of land, and seldom paused long enough to reflect on the cost—youth rarely do.
Then came the moment we stepped beyond our borders to confront tyranny abroad. Isolation gave way to global responsibility, and in defeating fascism, we crowned ourselves “leader of the free world.” That era—the Greatest Generation era—became our cultural mythology of peak performance. In economic terms, we hit our stride: strong, wealthy, ambitious, so confident we assumed the world wanted our model replicated everywhere.
Adulthood matured us further. We recognized injustices at home and, imperfectly, pushed to correct them. We abolished poll taxes, dismantled legal segregation, expanded civil rights, and reached for gender equality—though we famously stumbled in ratifying the ERA. Still, we dreamed big. We mapped the ocean floor and walked the lunar surface. We believed no frontier was beyond reach.
But adulthood also revealed strain. Our swagger dimmed through a string of grinding foreign conflicts where overwhelming force could not overcome local pride or nationalist resolve. Regime change efforts faltered. Confidence thinned. The armor dulled. The steps slowed. The world noticed.
Now we resemble a nation in midlife denial. We want the prowess of our youth without the discipline, unity, or sacrifice that once produced it. We have become too large, internally conflicted, and politically stiff to move with the nimble decisiveness we admire in our own past. Instead of planning the next horizon, we rummage through the attic of lost greatness and flirt with symbolic trappings of monarchy—strongman fantasies, grievance crowds, and performative nationalism. These are not signs of renewed vigor; they are early symptoms of institutional cognitive decline and are affected by it.
The irony is painful: past generations always knew our shared mission. We debated the path but rarely the direction. Today, the direction itself is disputed, diluted, or abandoned. A country without a horizon behaves like a retiree with no hobbies—restless, resentful, and tempted by delusion.
Yet midlife crises can be turning points if met with humility and long-view statesmanship. Older nations that endure do so by learning from their past without worshipping it, by building for the grandchildren rather than reconstructing their own adolescence. The future is not reclaimed by nostalgia but by vision. Let’s not just look back; let’s learn from our past, reflect on it, and use it to shape our future.
So let us do what adults do at their best: acknowledge our age, accept our limitations, but not be defined by them, and chart a path worthy of those who will inherit this place. Square our shoulders, and focus forward—not back. Our midlife crisis can be a descent or a rebirth. We choose which. Collectively, with a common focus, let’s reject the polarizing radical positions of the extreme amongst us. Let’s encourage the great masses of the middle to lead us forward toward new goals and our next horizon. Let’s remember, we are all in this together, and it’s our shared responsibility to shape the future of our nation. #NeverFearTheDrem simplebender.com
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