Protection is exhausting.
I am, first and foremost, a writer. There’s nothing else I ever wanted to do or be. In times of angst, in times of joy, in times when my head is spinning, nothing else grounds me. I will admit to preferring paper. I still believe in libraries, for God’s sake.
I go by many names. My daughters call me Mom. My husband calls me Mel. Colleagues call me snarky. All that is true. I work in the medical school of one of the country’s finest universities. Does that make me sound smart? Not really, but I’ll go with that.
Wife. Mother. Sister. Manager. Employee. Friend. Christian. So many definitions apply to me. But in 2011 I started on a journey that would define me in a new and uninvited way: as part of the Sandwich Generation. Like so many other women, I found myself sandwiched on the teeter totter of middle age, as I simultaneously “raised” both children and parents. For this phase of life– frightening, exhilarating, as ripe with sweet spots as with heartbreak, there should be a manual. But there’s not. Only voices who can reach out and share experiences. That’s why I’m blogging.
One more name. Dog whisperer. Not to all dogs. Just to one rescued Blue Heeler named Reese who seems to distrust everyone but me. He’s sure everyone else is out to get me, and he’s on the job.
IN THE MIDDLE 