Growing Pains
About 2 months ago my youngest child announced her plans to leave home and live on her own. She was 18 then, and she's 18 now, and she's not going to ever be any younger than eightfreakingteen. 3 weeks ago she moved out, across town, which might as well be Siberia to my heart.
I realize this is a part of growing up. Not just for her, but for me... it is all about me, after all, in case anyone forgot. I was such a young mother and my children have raised me well. I molded my entire existence around them. I have no identity apart from these 2 people, who may I remind you, are at least eightfreakingteen and who no longer are in need of my mothering services. (Unless they are sick or hungry or broke... then all of a sudden I am allowed to resume mothering duties momentarily.)
Tonight was a low one. You see, I have been married to Peter Pan for twenty years. In traditional Peter Pan fashion, it was buddy soiree night in Neverneverland with the Lost Boys. So, tonight I came home to an empty house. Completely. Empty. (Except for the cat, and well, she only wants me for my Le Fancy Feast.) I pace. I grumble. I cry. Then I feel guilty for being so pitiful over something that's supposed to be completely normal for 99% of the stable women in this world. There are other mothers in this world whose children are starving, diseased, and dying... and I am too much of an emotional midget to overcome an empty house for a night. What a hard life I must have. Good grief.
Understanding my limitations is going to get me through this time in my life. Discovering a little further of who I am aside from a wife and mother might help. Remembering I am not dead and that 'getting a life' would probably prevent a few of the languishing "HOLY MOTHER OF SHIT! WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH MY LIFE?" moments.
posted by manders @ 8:59 PM
1 Comments:
It sounds so cliche, but finding a hobby helps so much. It gives you something else to focus on. While it may not entertain your motherly nature, it will fulfill it's desired effect.
But you know what? You're the mom. They're always going to need you. No matter how old they get or how independent they seem to become. They can be too proud to admit it, but deep down, they yearn to say the words, "I need you, Mom."
Hell, I'm 19 going on 20. I ask myself where I'm going to be in another year. Will I still be a cable guy at Comcast? Will I be more than a blue collar average Joe? I want to be, I really do. Sometimes I don't see anything more for myself than mediocrity.
Those could be "growing pains" I'm sure. I'm almost positive everyone has felt that way when they're young. But dammit, I'd rather not feel it at all. Perhaps the feeling lingers just so that I can endure the pain, embrace it, and become stronger than I was before.
There's only one thing I'm sure that not a lot of people have felt so young;
Empty.
I know I'm young, I know that I've got plenty of time left. But this feeling is worse than any physical pain. I've been bruised, cut, pricked, broken, and even stabbed. I'd choose any of them over that feeling.
Dang, I talk a lot.
I need my own blog. Let's make that happen!
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home