Showing posts with label empty nest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label empty nest. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 May 2012

Relationships with Humans

 

sidebarFamilies

Relationships with humans are hard.

I’ve been having interesting conversations with folks about teens, rebellion and the ‘need’ (experts tell us it’s a need, so it must be, right?) for children to butt heads with their parents in order to leave the nest.

I’ve written about this before, but today I’m thinking about it from a slightly different angle… in a conversation about ‘normal teens,’ in response to this:

Some children really DO need to "butt heads to leave".

I said this:

In the same way that people who are genuinely frightened (the result of a break-in, or even a physical attack) start arguing when they don’t know what else to do with their fear, people who are leaving or on the verge of being left will often lash out, because they simply don’t know how to handle the fears or the overwhelming feelings that come with large life changes.

I’ve lived in a navy family my whole life, first as the daughter of a sailor, and later married to one (still). I am experienced in the leavings (and returns) of loved ones… and I’m familiar with the dysfunctional and the enlightened ways of handling both.

Dysfunctional is what is considered the norm: depression, lashing out, infidelity, worry, ptsd, insomnia, ocd… the list goes on and on. But however ordinary and common those responses are, they’re hardly enlightened or even helpful. They are simply what people do with overwhelmingly large emotions when they don’t know what else to do.

It’s not surprising that people don’t know what to do –culturally, we don’t know what to do, we have few models of more enlightened or mature responses, and few teachers who could pass that information on. If I had a nickel for every time someone said to me, ‘I could never cope with my partner leaving’ or ‘how do you manage?’ I’d have a room full of nickels. And, it took me a long time to stumble across healthier ways of handling it.

Children leaving home brings up the same kinds of overwhelm, for themselves and their parents –and their friends, and their siblings… and we end up with the Freshman 15 (kids who eat to displace their feelings when they’re at college the first year) and Empty Nest Syndrome (for parents who can’t sit through long-distance ads without bursting into tears), et cetera.

There are two keys, I found, to understand comings and goings:

1. worry and,

2. control

There are two primary reasons people mind so much, life transitions of this kind: they don’t know what’s going to happen, and they don’t like feeling out of control of what’s going to happen. So they worry –that’s personal and internal stress that just adds to the real issues in their world—and they seek to control what they can reach, which is generally the other people close by. [I think it’s hilarious how rarely most people think of themselves when they’re looking around for something to control.]

Now, how to avoid and minimize both of those is a completely other post for another day, but that’s the core of it: children who express an apparent need to butt heads are picking #2. Parents who become depressed, teary or insomniac are using #1. Lashing out and ocd are #2. PTSD is #1.

Handling comings and goings with equanimity is hard:

  • it’s hard to lean into the pain of separations, to know that the pain is not just okay, but perfect
  • it’s hard to open a lifestyle up when someone comes home after the heartspace they had lived in has healed

Neither are anywhere near as hard as the results of lashing out, butting heads, depression… et cetera.

Wednesday, 26 March 2008

In the House Alone

In the House Alone

For the second day in a row, I’ve got the house all to myself for several hours. I wander around, thinking ‘ooh, I could do this...’ and ‘oh, or I could do that...’ for about 10 minutes. Finally, I decided I was hungry enough for lunch, which I can make all for myself, with no one else’s tastes involved... This does not happen very often. A taste of things to come...

A while back, an email conversation centred around the empty nest. How will mom cope? What will she do? How will she feel? One mom wrote a long, emotional post about how she’ll miss them (she knows, because some have already flown and she misses them) and how she’ll pine away for the good ol’ days, when they were clustered around her like little chicks, annoying and loud, but there: needy, present, safe... 


My response was ‘wow, are you kidding?’ 

I asked, ‘Am I seriously the only person who’s been looking forward to my kids growing up all along? I loved having my babies, and loved watching them grow, and I will love watching them fly, too.’ 

A couple of other mothers felt the same way, but the consensus was definitely that the ‘end of the era’ created a strong urge to start all over again, and have new babies, or start fostering, or adopt... or just counting the days to grandbabies... and then what, hope the kids move back into the house with them?

Arg. No. Gee, but thanks.

I get to play with new babies fairly often, volunteering as a La Leche League Leader.

La Leche League Canada
I always offer to hold the babe while mom takes off her coat, or gets a drink, or stretches for a moment or puts on her jacket, or whatever. I’m thrilled to watch them grow up between meetings, returning sometimes for years. I love seeing the little kids I knew as babies, and seeing their moms’ confidence and competence grow... I love the way they smell and their hilarious view of the world, the funny things they say and do. And I love when they go home with their moms, and I go home without them.
I don’t miss the diapers, the sleep deprivation, the mess, the chaos, the overwhelming physical and emotional exhaustion, the phases that change faster than the moon, feeling capable one moment and frighteningly out of my depth the next. I don’t miss being stretched between a toddler’s needs and a baby’s needs. I don’t miss how slowly everything got done, or how many dangers were lurking in the world for small, unpredictable children. I do not miss their inability to express their needs clearly.

I love the teen years – my kids (and other kids I know) are maturing and growing into adults right in front of my eyes, and that is as amazing as how small human toes can be. They waver between childhood and adulthood, depending on how tired they are, how balanced they feel, how overwhelmed they are by the prospects of the future. They stumble, try again, hide out for a while, and then suddenly blossom in ways that shocks and surprises them as well as me.

My mom still loves me – she still loves to see me, has no apparent upper limit to the amount of time she likes to spend with me, and supports me in everything I do. I feel a strong and flexible thread weaving through my life, from her, through me, to my girls. This isn’t going to end when they grow up – they’re just going to be very cool people some more. Farther away, but bringing new parts of the world back to me, too. Someday, we’ll change over from me being the person who brings them the world to them being the people who bring me the world. And to me, that feels right and proper –the natural order of things.

I don’t want to go back. Not to my teens, although those years were fine. These years are better. I don’t want to go back to my children’s infancy– nor to being the mom of infant children. 



Those years were wonderful. 

These years are better.

Movin' On, Again


Movin' On, Again

It is my experiences, so far, that my kids drag me forward. Them determined to move on, usually dancing and singing as they go, and me bewildered and unprepared lagging behind in a daze. They always seem to get to the next stage just a few weeks before I think the next stage exists, so I spend a little bit of time trying to get used to the idea, while they walk confidently and assured in what they have obviously been working up to for some time.

It’s an experience I’ve come to enjoy, kind of like the first time on a new roller coaster – every turn and dip comes as a complete surprise, but it’s sure a fun ride, anyhow...

Who Moved My Cheese, by Spencer Johnson, is such a mild and jovial little book – those wee men and the wise mice, all responding to change in the different ways people do. There is wisdom in it for parents, and these transitions will come to us all whether we’re Sniff, Scurry, Hem or Haw.

So, what’s happened? Well, the younger of my two beautiful daughters left the house this morning at very shortly before 6:30am (this is the child who loves sleep and sleeps-in every opportunity and has been known to stay in bed until after 2pm), to go to her very first ‘real’ job (what the rest of them, to date including housekeeping, babysitting and a great deal of volunteer work, qualify as is a mystery to me, but this one will come with a payroll cheque). Her shifts, which she happily agreed to, begin at 7 and end at 3. She has had similar hours before (8-4 as a children’s workshop helper), but only for a week, and it required a lead-in and a great deal of preparation... to say nothing of how tired she was the third day in.

This sleep-in child got up before 6, showered, dressed, collecte the things she needs for the day and left the house smiling.

O-kay... I’m ready for this, totally.

Funny, how the things you ‘know’ turn out to only be things you ‘believe’, in the end. I always ‘knew’ (or felt confident that I knew) that whatever my kids did at 11 or 13 would have little bearing on what they could accomplish at 16 or 20 – they’d still be learning and growing and developing and would not be ‘stuck’ doing whatever they did then. Sure, I ‘knew’ that – but my response to how readily this ‘always prefers to stay in bed’ child has moved away from that stereotype, because she wants something different now belies how I knew it. I’m pleasantly surprised by seeing what I thought I expected. Turns out my expectation was more tentative than I would have guessed...

I suppose that makes me Haw. Ha!