Sandwiched Essays on Life from the In-between

By Beth Bullard

Ever wake up and wonder, Just how did I get here? And soon after, Where do I go now?
In the blink of an eye, Beth was thrust into a life far different from anything she’d planned or expected. Navigating the unforeseen existence required courage, patience, persistence, and ultimately acceptance. All behaviors she found easier said than done.
In Sandwiched, Beth celebrates the messiness of middle age, the good, the bad, and the inevitable. Her essays are thoughtful, enlightening, and entertaining and her clever and relatable writing style makes one feel as if they’re visiting a longtime friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Bullard
• Release date: Aug 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005882556

Beth Bullard

Beth Bullard is an author, photographer, and speaker. Her books are said to be thought-provoking glances into the unpredictable nature of life. Her witty and relatable writing style makes one feel as if they’re visiting a longtime friend. Beth’s essays demonstrate an appreciation for the simple gifts life offers when one takes the time to look.Beth dedicated thirty years to her fatefully chosen healthcare profession, Occupational Therapy. She is a seasoned clinician, educator, healthcare leader, and executive. In 2018, she decided to step away from healthcare to explore her creative side and rediscover the hope and beauty of living. She has become an author, an award-winning photographer, a budding interior designer, and an outstanding personal shopper for her family and friends.Beth lives on an acreage property in Northern Colorado with her two children and their menagerie of animals.

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Essays on Life from the In-between

Sandwiched

Copyright ©2022 by Beth Bullard

Published by Beth Bullard at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Discover other titles by Beth Bullard:

Tragically Beautiful: Essays of Love, Loss and Hope

This book is available in print.

For my parents,

Charles and Margaret,

who taught me that the true meaning of family

extends far beyond its biological roots.

Contents

Acknowledgements

The Shift

Outnumbered

Chicken School

Girl Getaway

Horse Stories

Breathing Lessons

The Social Experiment

A Fellowship of the Ring

My Hero

Margaret

The Year of The Rat

Our Seven Deadly Sins

The Oppressed

Vallarta

Becoming A Writer

Acknowledgements

There are those in my life I have come to consider family. Individuals who have chosen to invest their time and energy cultivating our connection, and the resultant beauty of this intentional commitment is an eternal bond that extends far beyond heredities.

The gratitude I have for these souls knows no bounds. Their steadfast and unconditional love bolsters me in times of uncertainty and cradles me when I fall. The friendship we share has enriched my perspective, produced an infinite catalog of memories and brought prosperity to my life.

To my family, whether friend or genetic, celestial or earthly, you are the foundation from which I leap and the wind beneath my wings.

The Shift

Just exactly how do you think you’re going to do it? I asked myself while gazing into the bathroom mirror. The dumbfounded reflection looking back at me confirmed my lack of a plausible answer. I found myself drawn into examining the face before me. That of a woman who by society’s standards would be considered middle-aged. The glow of her youth had been dimmed by experience and a suggestion of maturity was sprinkled about her face. Eyes once bright appeared dampened by the weight of responsibility, sorrow, and change.

On the surface, one might think her weary and defeated, but underneath that exterior lay a tenacious soul determined to drop-kick life in the derriere. That girl opted for a cheeky reply. I’m not sure, but either way it’s comin’, so buckle up!

It was life. An unexpected life. In the blink of an eye, a tragic accident claimed my husband declaring me a widow. I’d become a single mother of two teenagers ripe with the angst and anguish that accompanies the age. My son, Jackson, started college in the fall, and my daughter, Kate, high school. Both awkward freshmen, unsure, insecure and intimidated by everything. Neither one of them was a risk-taker. Far from it. They required time, clarification and encouragement before braving new situations. When they were younger, I considered their style a gift, as I never worried about them doing impulsive, crazy kid stuff. However, at this age, their approach appeared to be more of a detriment.

The kids weren’t the only ones adjusting to new situations. After thirty years on the job, I exited the hamster wheel, electing to take what I considered a self-induced sabbatical. I’d become a stay-at-home mom with two kids who needed me around but didn't want me there. That, coupled with an absent social life, made for a lonely existence. During the first year, I frequently struggled to find my footing, and my sense of purpose often escaped me. I stumbled down a rabbit hole or two but over time discovered a rhythm that suited my new existence.

The dogs, on the other hand, were thrilled with my constant presence as it meant they were no longer resigned to their kennels on weekdays. They became my persistent companions and oftentimes unwelcome distractors, believing that most of my day should be dedicated to the care and keeping of their needs. I attempted to school them otherwise with little success.

Living on four acres with an animal count of three dogs, four cats, thirteen chickens and two horses, suggested there wasn’t a lack of things that needed doing. My blank calendar seemed to fill overnight, and I promptly learned I would never be bored. Like many who find themselves free from the nine to five, I began to wonder how I ever did it all. Single mom, CEO, daughter, friend, caretaker of animals, custodian of the land, and the list goes on.

My role of consultant and caregiver for aging parents shifted upwards on the priority list. They required my support to navigate the health and ability changes that come naturally to octogenarians. At eighty, my mother’s health was relatively stable, but my father, now eighty-four, was another story. He’d been diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years earlier, suffered a small stroke the past spring, and sadly, his cancer had metastasized. I’d been able to manage things remotely, but it would only be a matter of time before I’d need to up my game around their care. Fifteen hundred miles lay between us. Remaining flexible and travel-ready became a necessity for my life.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough for my proverbial plate, there was the matter of myself. It was time to get to know the woman in the mirror. She needed to abandon her relentless companion of three years—grief—and begin to navigate the expected and oftentimes unexpected changes presented to us in the in-between: the moment in time where life stops giving and starts taking away.

So much of my existence up until now had been focused on growth. Expanding family, cultivating careers, and building the physical and financial footprint to realize those goals and dreams. Over the years, homes and cars swelled, and career advancement was a must to accommodate the family as well as realize professional aspirations. Creating a life for yourself and those you love is the ultimate development project.

In what seemed like a simple flip of a switch, I found myself facing The Shift. An often unwelcome season in life when matters that previously gave us purpose begin to fade into memory. Traditions once considered sacred become passé, and the magic and wonder of innocence evaporates. Children, now older, no longer hunt for Easter eggs or write letters to Santa Claus. Thoughts of friends, freedom, and moving on dance in their heads. Shifters begin to reflect on life thus far, identifying priorities and bidding farewell to those things that no longer serve us. Career paths are reevaluated, and leisure pursuits adjusted for physical change. The notion of downsizing and a soon-to-be empty nest swirl in our heads.

I'd become a card-carrying member of the Sandwiched Generation. A group, that at the time of my reflection, was over nine million strong in the United States alone and growing. Each of us struggling to balance the demands of caring for our multigenerational families while simultaneously trying not to lose ourselves amid feelings of depression, guilt and isolation.

I likened my pursuit of life balance to Dorothy’s quest in the Wizard of Oz. The key to her desire was thought to lie at the end of the yellow brick road—a golden path filled with pitfalls and pleasantries, and she alone must decide which is which. The twisted lane that lay before me felt very similar, and like Dorothy, I encountered beings who supported and furthered my journey as well as creatures who sidetracked my endeavors, but in the end the answers we both sought were within us all along. We simply needed to listen to our hearts and believe in ourselves to realize our desires. A task that sounds so effortless yet many struggle to achieve it in a lifetime.

I believe we all have yellow brick road moments throughout our lives and that path often reveals itself during instances of change or when we need to be reminded of our self-sufficiency. Shortly after being widowed, I found myself in a much different place than I ever expected, planned, or dreamed. I threw myself into work, caring for my children and anything else that would allow me to evade the pain that was emanating from my heart. I knew the road was there but, much like the Lion, needed a catalyst to summon the courage to take those first steps. I don’t recall when that happened or what exactly triggered my initial step, just that one day I glanced over my shoulder to discover a road not only before me, but behind me as well. I’d begun to move on.

This epiphany simultaneously excited and frightened me. I became concerned and began to question my path, but with the help of a few fateful companions, I found my footing in the present, focusing on the current month, week, day, and sometimes even the hour. Immersing myself in the moment, savoring every step. I made it a point to remind myself of this action often and am thankful for the incredible memories I’ve harvested for it.

The past warrants reflection, consideration and respect, but the present is where the magic is made, and if you can do that, the future will be of little consequence as you’ll be right where you’re supposed to be. A concept that makes perfect sense, but I struggle with it, as I have a tendency to future trip. On that point, I’d say I’m a work in progress.

As I made my way along the golden road, I encountered barriers and distractions aimed at delaying or detouring my progress. Some were strategically placed by creatures I’d stumbled upon or the universe in general, and others came from within. Regardless of the source, the scuffles yielded tools or tidbits I could tuck away in my bag of tricks for future confrontations. I examined how to recognize and side-step doubt and negative self-talk and learned to say no to distractions that no longer served me. I became mindful and selective about those who surrounded me, welcoming travelers who brought growth and light to my journey and bidding farewell to companions whose path no longer aligned with mine. When I made mistakes, I studied the missteps, and each time I did, found my load a little lighter and my stride slightly longer.

Outnumbered

Greg, get your ass down here and help me! was my recurrent thought when it came to our children. How dare he leave me to shepherd these two alone, and although I knew it wasn’t his choice, I couldn’t help but feel I’d gotten the short end of the stick.

Parenting teens can be an unforgiving, relentless affair, and the idea of going through it without my partner in crime was frightening. Gone was our good cop/bad cop tactic and the muscle behind my mandates. I’d lost my heavy, my back was exposed and I was outnumbered. A circumstance I hoped they would never employ to their advantage. I was on a solo mission bound for the asteroid field of adolescence and there was no turning back.

Remaining positive, nimble, and just plain being there was my flight plan for the journey of twists and turns before me. Maneuvers that proved to be relatively successful, but my hull sustained damages that required venting sessions with fellow parents, counseling and a few girl getaways to mend.

My efforts in being there were generally accepted by Jackson throughout his teens. He’d listen politely, consider my suggestions and acted on those he deemed logically necessary. Basically, he humored me. Kate, however, was another story. She considered our time together novel but only as long as it suited her agenda and had no reservations telling me when I crossed the proverbial line. If I talked too much during the morning carpool, I’d receive an eye roll or a searing glance demanding my silence. If I asked too many questions or led the conversation in any way, I’d hear, Stop CEOing me Mom. But most of the time she’d just say, Yeah, I’m done talking now, which was code for I don’t want to share with you, please go away. I quickly learned that being there, although necessary, was a thankless solitary assignment.

Brain function in teens expands but doesn’t mature until they are well into their twenties. Concrete thinking, lack of insight and inability to appreciate the big picture made communicating a point challenging, and at times impossible. I’d frustratingly stare into dumbfounded faces unable to comprehend or appreciate my position, but from their vantage point, I was without a doubt the daft one. You don’t get it, You won’t understand, and, You don’t know anything, were frequent comments regarding my mental capacity. It’s a miracle I make it out of the house every day, I’d offer in reply.

Kate’s egocentric thinking gave rise to insecurity, judgment and peer pressure. Jackson managed to sidestep this teen pitfall due to a keen sense of self and an old soul, but as girls tend to do, Kate landed right in the middle of the enormous sinkhole. She insisted on mirroring the fashion trends of her peers, spent hours on her makeup and hair, and missed the bus countless times her freshman year because of it. I’d explain to her that every time she does that, it makes me late for work, which is unacceptable. My comment was ignored as the thought meant nothing to her.

Puberty launches the physical progression from child to adult, and if unprepared, can bring unwelcome irreversible change, which often gives rise to body image issues and further anxiety. Few of us make it out of our teens unscathed and given that belief, I made sure to talk with both kids about what to expect, when and why. They didn't always appreciate my candor but learned to live with it.

We talked about sex, relationships, and bodily functions while driving from here to there. Car rides offered