middle age

Middle age disturbs me quite a bit. Haunts me.
I don't fear being flabby and out of shape. I'm already there.
I'm not tempted by motor homes or vacations with other white hairs somewhere south. How dull.
Could it be that it's the selfishness I fear?
Not that I'm not already horrendously self-serving.
But observing others, I see this:
You raise your kids. You retire from your job. You find you have some extra cash. You need something to do.
Less energy. More aches. So you turn inward.
"I deserve something nice."
"I raised my kids and put in my time." 
"I worked hard these past 50 years."
Can someone remind me in a few years that I am in process of rotten worthlessness if that is my pursuit?
If it takes watching someone else's kids to remind me of real life. If it takes selling off a few more items in my lifelong collection of stuff. If it takes giving up an evening at home dozing in front of the tube. (that might be a stretch)

Now to trim a bit more self-attentiveness of my current life that is centered around many small children.