September 2006 Archives

Am I having separation anxiety? What the heck is happening to me?

A mom called this morning attached to her Kleenex box, “I can’t make it to work today because I can’t stop crying. What is going on?”

She just dropped her daughter off at college.

I think the excitement, anticipation, and anxiety, all add to the exhaustion and tears of saying goodbye.

We just think we can be and do it all so when those tears flood and collapse us, we want to get reasons to get out of the sorrow. We also want to know for sure that we are not alone and these tears are “normal”.

If I had a magic wand I would wave it for three wishes:

1. It is ok to fall apart, be vulnerable, and awkward on the journey of letting go and finding our new selves.

2. Poof, we are all sitting with blue colored cashmere blankets, warm green cups of tea, buttery scones and chocolate chip cookies, vanilla candle burning, as we sit in a retreat lodge by flowing water sharing our stories.

3. We have ongoing support to take tiny risks in our new roles of life and transform through the joys and challenges of this major life transition called empty nest.

What wishes do you have and where do we find those magic wands I need to bring us all together?

Branching out to you,
Natalie
Email me: natalie@emptynestsupport.com

I was at UCLA talking with some proud and tearful parents. They are moving their kids into the dorms. One mom said, “I have had this day on the calendar since April, but my mind stored it in the pride and power category. I power through every challenge of life. I had no idea the power lands having Kleenex in hand. I can’t stop the tears from clouding my vision. We always wanted our three kids to go to college. She is my last to leave home.”

Why wouldn’t saying goodbye to our kids flood our face? Being strong and supportive doesn’t mean do not cry. Love does this to us. We cry because we know what we will daily miss, and we know a void will call us to explore more of who we are now. Explorers travel and that is how we need to see this stage of letting go. Who is in our suitcase that needs to be unpacked? Who has been waiting for some free time to get selfish and just hear our own voice with out interruptions or schedules to check?

“Summer is over and that has always been time with the kids at the lake or beach or splashing in the back yard pool,” said a dad, and he continued, “what if next summer they take a job in their college town?” Glimpses that changes are happening and we just want everyone sitting at the dinner table, passing the salad, interrupting each other, laughing and saying, “I need______ this weekend.”

Goodbyes for now drop us into endings, appreciations, hopes, and a reminder that we need each other.
Yes, it is normal to be surprised at the pain and tears of our kids leaving home as well as our minds telling us, but this is all a good thing and you always wanted time for yourself. We know the role of parenting just changed in the hugs goodbye, but we don’t know who is inside us to carry us home

Natalie

My phone was ringing and ringing with messages of “watch the Today Show now,” an empty nest segment.

The segment message was let go or they might not make it in college and they will come home. One mom said,” I just love them and I don’t think I am hovering with my freshman daughter.”

The orientation instructor reported that parents call the college complaining about roommates and even register for their kid’s classes. She says to them, “why isn’t your child calling us and not you?” Good question.

I think the forgotten message is that letting go takes time for both the kids and the parents. It is unrealistic to hug and then only talk once a week although it depends, always, on your relationship with yourself and with your kids. We are learning to live with paradoxes.

I agree it is valuable to ask your child when they call, “How did that go for you? What do you think would be helpful?” Reflect for them, “that must have been frustrating.” The point is to help them think and feel so their choices and confidence feed them, not you. It is not a black and white process. Sometimes you need to suggest. It is having the intention that you are hearing them and giving them space to touch into their feelings and ideas.

I appreciate that empty nest is getting attention as a real life change for the parents and the kids. We are on the path of learning how to shift our roles and discover parts of ourselves that went dormant.

Here’s to being gentle with yourself as you step over the threshold. No one needs to go through this major transition alone.

Natalie

A dad sent this to me.......

I am a dad whose kids have all left home. I guess I could be the intellect guy who fixes problems and acts like I am ok, but I am not. My house is too quiet and I am lonely. There, I said it…I am lonely. Lonely for my kids!

Of course I have a life and it is everyday that I go to work and weekends that we go to dinner, a movie or play golf, but none of that includes my kids.

One is married and the other two are in college. I had no idea I would be so sad. My wife is too, but that seems more acceptable. She and her friends talk and cry together.

Why aren’t there more dad’s writing in on this terrific web site? I can’t be the only one who misses just being around them and seeing them tucked in at night. I don’t even see their car anymore, let alone any of their friends.

Everyone left. Our refrigerator is even empty. Our dog sits in their room and doesn’t wag his tale. The phone barely rings in this big house.

Dad’s where are you? Natalie, when you ask what other support do we need, could you post this for me and put out a siren for dad’s to write in so I don’t have to feel all alone. Thanks, Natalie and I do appreciate all that you and your web offer. I look forward to the newsletter.

I will check to see all the dad’s that I know will start talking so we can connect. Guys are just different than you women and we finally realize that, but we too need to talk about our kids leaving home.

One Dad who is looking for other guys who miss their kids…and kids, I am so proud of you.

DAD

My nest is empty, again. She is a senior in college 3000 miles away. Goodbyes are mixed with the excitement of a new year and a melancholy feeling of my little one being out of reach for hugs and seeing her chopping the cilantro, sautéing the chicken and answering the rings on her cell phone while I am making the dinner salad.

The paradox is I love my clean kitchen and not being interrupted with her needs and schedules.

Best scenario would be getting a phone call or instant message sharing her happiness and excitement about singing last night, her friends, and her photography internship. We all know just hearing them happy puts our shoulders down and smiles on. The exclamation at the end of the conversation that says, LOVE YOU, MOM, BYE, never loses its comfort.

Most of us don’t need much to let go. I hear from moms and dads everyday who are going through the passage with tears and hopes that they can continue to be great role models and find their new identity.

We are use to putting our kid’s needs first no matter if we are stay at home parents or career oriented. All of us have full lives that have included our precious ones, daily, for 18 years. Why wouldn’t we feel off or sad when we love them so deeply and now they are out of our reach? Yet, we get surprised at the falling tears and longing to just hear their voice. Love is vulnerable because we know it includes goodbyes.

I was crying on the flight home by myself because I missed my dad and my best girl friend that are no longer alive. I just wanted to talk to them one more time. I was afraid I would forget the way they sound and look. I was afraid of my aging and being immobile. The older my child gets, the more I feel that I don’t have forever to be here. I get into those thoughts of am I really doing what matters in my life and am I letting the people I love know how much I need and love them?

Reality checks are a good thing. I am loving my life and appreciating the people who let me love them and those who love me back.

Take care,
Natalie