I have considered starting a blog for over two years and finally took the plunge. My idea was that I could talk about being in the the middle of life. I don’t feel old, but I know by the calendar (and my struggle to get up off the floor from a sitting position) that I am no longer young. Just this month I officially hit middle age- if I live to be a 100. (My plan has always been to live to be 103-so if all goes to plan I still have some time before “official” middle age.)
Growing up, the middle was my jam. Obviously I was a middle child. I was sandwiched between my older brother who referred to the eight years before my birth as “the good old days” and my younger brother whom was referred to as “the miracle baby”. I hated the middle. I could never get first place, but I didn’t get last. The middle sucked. The middle is invisible. My dad dubbed me “Miss Pretty Close” after a run for Miss Milnor in 1987 that ended with my getting the First Runner-Up title…pretty much the middle in a small town. It wasn’t until after highschool that I began to pull away from the pack and started careening at adulthood at breakneck speed. Marriage at 21 and three kids in less than four years…with the first one arriving a mere six months after our vows. Like I said, I was ahead of the curve.
In my tight knit group of friends I became the one with all the “firsts”. Finally! I was the first to send my child to school, first to gain a bonus daughter, first to deal with kids in sports, heartbreak, dating, curfew breaking, brain injuries, car accidents, close calls, court dates (only misdemeanors, don’t judge), proms, and graduations. I was the first to have a child get engaged, have a grandbaby, another engagement, and then another engagement…which ended with all three of our kids getting married within a calendar year of each other. I was the first to experience the joy of seeing all of my children love and be loved.
I was also the first to lose my 55 year old mom to cancer. I was the first to think that losing a parent is the hardest thing in the world. I was the first to bury a nephew due to a brain tumor that only made itself known when it ruptured three days after he graduated from college at the age of 20. I was the first to think that I had gone as deep into sadness as I could watching my younger brother and sister-in-law lose their only son. I was the first to have my daughter widowed at age 23, six months after saying “I do” to the love of her life. I was the first to realize that what you once thought was the highest level of pain may only be a teaser.
I am the first to realize that I can make all the plans I want and still not have life turn out the way I wanted it to. The first to discover that worry is a worthless pursuit. The first to find that other people’s pain may be as painful for you as it is for them. The first to know what true helplessness feels like. The first to experience that happiness has to truly be sought after in your darkest days. The first to realize that maybe , just maybe, the middle isn’t so bad after all.
