Yeah, I had what you could call a mid-life crisis; during my last depression (bad enough to be transformative) , with the help of a perceptive and compassionate T, I finally began to really accept that I had been in and could expect to continue to be in the grip of a disabling mental illness, that I couldn't continue to live like an Energizer Bunny whose head exploded occasionally, only to get up and keep going as if nothing happened. I took stock of what I had accomplished, what I had lost, how I had failed, and how I had to change my strategy and expectations to survive. I compared myself to colleagues in high school and college with similar potential and opportunities who had built highly-responsible careers and families while I had been repeatedly falling on my face. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary; if I had kept lying to myself about my circumstances and capabilities, the losses and disappointments would only continue. I know this doesn't fit the profile of a conventional midlife crisis, but it met the literal definition.