I get it, I was stuck, too!

I was totally caught by surprise when I found myself experiencing a midlife awakening, an unfamiliar awareness of my mortality, really for the first time.

It solemnly waved at me in 2021 in the midst of Covid. I never experienced Covid myself, but a realization of how this virus was impacting people’s lives around the globe was especially grim, similar to what it was probably like for you and the majority of the world (isn’t that mind-boggling to know that everyone around the world was impacted?).

During this time, my mom was struggling with dementia. My sisters and I worked together to care for her. Initially, we moved her into an apartment in close proximity to my middle, younger sister where she lived for two years with a PT caregiver. Then my sister and her husband moved into a home where they built out an apartment for mom.

Watching my mother wrestle with getting older, often negative and critical, it was clear that she had given up and was ready to go. There’s only a 16 year difference between us (I’m the first born), so having a front row seat as she struggled with aging was especially sobering, painful, and seemingly hit close to home.

We weren’t close, our religious and life values collided. She was a 45+ years faithful Jehovah’s Witness, and I was a former member of this religion having left 21 years prior. Even before exiting this religious community, being at odds was a lifelong mother/daughter emotional struggle.

So, while all of this was unfolding and certainly had an impact, something very personal was bubbling underneath the surface. That summer, I resigned from everything I was participating in (volunteer gigs and personal projects) with the exception of my work coaching teens and young adults experiencing foster care and homelessness, which shifted from in person to virtual. It was wonderful to be able to support them during this time, but I personally felt directionless.

For the first time in my life, I was sitting on the edge of a precipice with no idea what I wanted to do. I was clear about me, who I was/am, I just didn’t know how to answer, ‘what’s next?’.

I’m not sure how, but the book Hidden Blessings: Midlife Crisis as a Spiritual Awakening wandered onto my radar in November of that year (when the student is ready, the teacher appears, right!?!). That rich content, along with the online companion course tapped into my essence, challenged my life story at that time, and helped me understand the need for a purposeful shift. It was as if the author wrote it just for me, and I received it with an open mind and heart.

In the summer of 2022, I decided to resign from that coaching role. It was a difficult decision, but I no longer had the necessary energy and focus to provide the meaningful support required for this special population, and it was evident that the organization’s and my values were slowly diverging. It simply wasn’t fair to any of us for me to continue.

As providence would have it, about two months before resigning this role, I became aware of another coaching opportunity with more flexibility and autonomy. This was the new start I needed; another right fit at the right time.

In December of that year, my mom transitioned. She apparently passed away during the night. When I arrived at her residence after the caregiver’s text that something wasn’t right, I found her cold, frail body sitting on the couch, she was gone. She was finally free of her life’s struggle. She was now free of the burden of living in a world that she passionately preached was doomed. I was especially calm and reflective that day.

Both of my parents were now gone. My dad transitioned in 2007. Having been there to experience up close and personal both of their last months before passing on, the contrast was stark.

My dad was just 69. He had battled prostate cancer for longer than we were aware because they kept it a secret. However, during the last six months of his life, he and I had several opportunities to connect in a way that we hadn’t prior to that time (long story with my mom at the center).

His approach to aging and illness was so different from hers. He was so kind to the hospital and hospice staff that cared for him. He was often bombarded by visitors. His was a totally different vibe. On more than one occasion during this time, he told me to ‘enjoy my life.’

At the time, I was a college instructor. I’d go and sit with him in his hospice room and grade papers. He loved Westerns, so I’d turn to one on the television and we would sporadically talk during those hours.

My dad gave me the gift of not only how to live well but how to age well, and how to transition well. I was there with my sisters and mom when he took his last breath. His entire process from being given six months to live that summer to the moment he transitioned was life-altering for me.

I was also especially calm and reflective when my dad passed, too, but the experience with him was different. It felt celebratory. This man displayed loving kindness and generosity to the very end. He wanted all four of us to be good, and he wanted us all to enjoy our lives.

His is the example I internalized when it comes to how to live, how to grow older, how to navigate illness, and how to transition. I decided then, actually way before this time, that I would embrace life the way my dad modeled it. He absolutely had his challenges just like everyone else, but he always tackled them creatively, in his own unique, smart way. He never seemed to abandon his kindness, generosity, gentle spirit, love for people, or his winning smile.

In the years that followed me being stuck on the edge of that precipice, I immersed myself in research, exploration, experimentation, mindful meditation, connecting with my body, and honest self-reflection, which helped me connect with my inner wisdom in a deeper way. I tapped into the clarity I needed to make a meaningful shift.

So here I am in 2025, diving headfirst into an expanded understanding of my purpose and a fresh perspective about growing older. Have I figured it all out? Nope! And, I don’t want to. It’s more excited to leave the door partially open for opportunities and possibilities unknown.

I have learned a lot, added a few wrinkles/laugh lines, and I’m excited to share what I’ve uncovered and discovered, provoke a little thought, provide similar support and space for those in this same predicament, sprinkle some encouragement here and there, suggest a few proven approaches, and more.

It is possible to fully embrace your second act, and nurture your body, mind, and purpose for a well-lived and vibrant life.

Curious about your next chapter, and the opportunities and possibilities in wait?

Ready to explore and experiment to uncover what’s right for you?

Let’s connect!