Be a simple kind of man.
Lynyrd Skynyrd is pulling at my heart strings today. My boy, he’s out in the world and I find
myself so desperately wanting to pull him back in and protect him, to swaddle
him like when he was a baby, to be his momma bear all over again and do it
right this time. I want SO much for him
and I want to be there to share whatever wisdom I can, to help him through the
hard time. Growing up sucks, it’s so
hard. I desperately miss him, his
childhood and have days where the regrets are overwhelming. He grew up before I even got a chance to
understand what it really meant to be someone’s mother and try to be it.
Needless to say, Empty Nest is kicking my ass. I work so hard, so very hard, to remain in the moment. To leave the past behind and look to the future with promise and enjoy the journey. It’s taken me a long, long time to even begin to understand what that looks like for me. I love to abuse myself and suffer through all the times I could have been a better parent, all the moments I missed because I was trying to grow up and into myself, all the times I lost my patience and was selfish. This is really ugly thinking, it cracks at my heart and I have to physically snap myself out of it to avoid being a blubbering mess on the floor. After all, the reality of the past is simply too painful to bare on some days and making amends to my past (and my son’s) really doesn’t change it, now does it? I keep telling myself, all I can do is be a “good” mother today and maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll have the chance to do so, tomorrow.
The struggle now is that I think I’m wanting to cling to my son and “mother” him to the point where he wants nothing to do with me. He’s trying to find himself out in the world, he wants to grow up and cut the strings, yet I know I must remain in the background for when he does need his momma. Which, like most children, ultimately will need at some point and I’m poised to be there for him. But, I know I can’t make him pay for something that is my doing. It’s not his fault I have regrets about the kind of parent I’ve been. It’s not his fault that I wasn’t more present, that I want some how to do it all over again with what I know now.
What a horrible cliche this sounds like. Yuck.
Needless to say, Empty Nest is kicking my ass. I work so hard, so very hard, to remain in the moment. To leave the past behind and look to the future with promise and enjoy the journey. It’s taken me a long, long time to even begin to understand what that looks like for me. I love to abuse myself and suffer through all the times I could have been a better parent, all the moments I missed because I was trying to grow up and into myself, all the times I lost my patience and was selfish. This is really ugly thinking, it cracks at my heart and I have to physically snap myself out of it to avoid being a blubbering mess on the floor. After all, the reality of the past is simply too painful to bare on some days and making amends to my past (and my son’s) really doesn’t change it, now does it? I keep telling myself, all I can do is be a “good” mother today and maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll have the chance to do so, tomorrow.
The struggle now is that I think I’m wanting to cling to my son and “mother” him to the point where he wants nothing to do with me. He’s trying to find himself out in the world, he wants to grow up and cut the strings, yet I know I must remain in the background for when he does need his momma. Which, like most children, ultimately will need at some point and I’m poised to be there for him. But, I know I can’t make him pay for something that is my doing. It’s not his fault I have regrets about the kind of parent I’ve been. It’s not his fault that I wasn’t more present, that I want some how to do it all over again with what I know now.
What a horrible cliche this sounds like. Yuck.
I used to think, I am
not defined by being a mother. I am many
things, a mother is one of them and a very important aspect of who I am – but it
doesn’t define me. Now, I wish perhaps I’d
thrown everything into being a mom and worried a little less about trying to
find myself. Because now, I have all the
time in the world to find myself, but M’s childhood is gone. I can’t get it back. And he’s easily at one of the most challenging
times in a young person’s life, a young man’s life – which I really can’t
understand the dynamics of what it means to be a man in our culture – and this
is when he needs a lot of space from mom.
To breathe, to grow, to experience life, to become himself.
OH THE HUMANITY.
How is any of this fair?
I’m also trying not to hate his dad.
None of this is his fault, but it’s so convenient to blame him. I could harbor all kinds of anger about the example
he’s setting for our son, but he is who he is and M needs some kind of
relationship with his dad, whether I approve or not. Again, another real rub in the whole mommying
thing, I mean seriously? Who the hell
made up these rules. Boooooo hissssss
So, as I wrangle with all this emotion and emptiness (let me clarify here that I’m
thinking this will be the last time M will be living with me and that other
than the comings and goings of any young person, he’s probably pretty much out
of the house) I’m fighting, I’ve got to
figure out how to be me again. How do I define
my life, what it looks like, who am I?
All over again. I’ve run myself
ragged since he moved out with work and the pugs and domestic duties and even I
know that can’t last forever. Eventually,
you have to face the music. And face it I
shall, but growing up is a bitch. Even when
you are pushing 40.
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