When the career you built isn’t the one you need anymore

Real life in the in-between

I spent more than 20 years in newsrooms and boardrooms before I ever sat down to write something just for me.

I started in broadcast journalism—the kind of work where you learn to translate complexity into something a person can understand in 90 seconds, on camera, live, with no do-overs. That skill carried me into corporate communications, where I spent the next chapter of my career managing crises response, executive messaging and brand reputation for Fortune 500 companies. Telecom. Healthcare. Real estate. I was good at it and I built a career some would call successful.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I got married at 45. My husband and I wanted kids, and our path to becoming parents was adoption. Our boys are 3 and 6 now. I’m 53. Which means I live in a strange in-between. Most of my friends my age have kids in high school or college, sending them off into the world. Most of the moms at preschool pickup are fifteen, twenty years younger than me, swapping stories about their own twenties. I don’t fully belong to either group. I’m the oldest mom in the carpool line and the only one of my close friends still packing lunches and chasing a 3-year-old at bedtime.

Here’s the thing though—I don’t look it, and I don’t act it. Not because I’m trying to pass for younger, but because nobody told me I was supposed to slow down or fade into the background at this age, so I never did. If anything, becoming a mother later sharpened me. I know exactly who I am. I know what’s worth my time. That’s not something I had at 30.

That’s when I found myself asking a question I hadn’t let myself ask before: Is this still mine?

My midage is a strange, specific kind of crossroads. I’m not starting over. I have three decades of skill, instinct and hard-won credibility behind me. But I’m also raising young kids who are watching how I handle this moment more than I realize. The career that once felt like an identity starts to feel, some days, like a costume I put on.

Here’s what I’ve learned sitting in that discomfort:

The skills don’t disappear, the the application can change. Everything I learned translating dense topics into clear, human stories on air—those skills I’m using now just pointed somewhere new.

You’re allowed to want something different even if you’re not in crisis. I didn’t need a dramatic before-and-after to justify a change. Wanting more alignment between how I spend my days and who I actually am, especially with two little boys watching, is reason enough.

Reinvention is a hobby before it’s a career. I didn’t quit anything and leap. I started writing. I started building something small, on the side, in the in-between hours, which is exactly what this is. A practice before it’s a plan.

So here’s what I’m building, and what I hope you’ll build alongside me.

The Mid Mama is the space I wish existed when I started asking these questions. Not aspirational in a way that feels out of reach, but rather attainable. Real beauty routines that fit into a school-morning timeline. Fashion that works for the body and budget you actually have, not the one influencers are paid to pretend is realistic. Recipes that get dinner on the table without becoming a second job. Hobbies and small creative practices that remind you who you are outside of “mom” and “professional.” Wellness that’s about feeling steady, not chasing perfection and defying the idea that 53 has to look or feel a certain way.

But more than any single tip or product, I want this to be a community—a place for women in any version of “in-between.” Whether you are the oldest mom in your friend group, the youngest in another or just navigating a season that doesn’t match anyone else’s timeline. I want us to swap stories, share what’s actually working and feel less alone in the reinvention. Because most of us aren’t looking for a total life overhaul. We’re looking for one good idea, one honest story, one small win we can use this week.

If you’re in your own midage moment, looking at a career, a role, an identity that used to fit and now feels one size off—I see you. You don’t have to have the next chapter figured out to start writing the first page of it. Let’s figure it out together.

What does your version of this crossroads look like? I’d love to hear it. Message me or drop a comment.