I think I’m having a midlife crisis. Or maybe it’s the world’s worst anxiety attack waiting to happen. Or maybe it’s some combination of the two. Whatever it is, it’s for real. I know you’re dying to know my symptoms, and I would describe them like this: a gnawing, ever-present feeling of dread, sometimes accompanied by more acute moments of panic (think heart palpitations, anxiousness, and the feeling that I need either a few Xanax or a bottle glass of vino). I always thought midlife crises were things that happened to middle-aged men when they began to question their careers, their marriages, their expanding waistlines, and/or their receding hairlines: they…