Faith

Launch Code

It seems so very odd and even counter-intuitive that in one of the most important relationships of our lives the goal is to say good bye. That doesn’t even cover what that actually means. Think of it this way: you have a cellular connection with this little human that came from your body. You nurture them, protect them (yes, to some degree we protect them) and try to teach or at least inform them. You follow closely even when they are experimenting with distance and freedom. You listen and watch and try to learn from them – who they are, where they say they want to go. You try to foster and maintain a connection so that as they pull away and if by some miracle they ask for help, you’ll actually be there and poised to offer it. Or, at least to know what’s going on enough to provide comfort, if not a miraculous “fixit” solution.

So, you’ve done all this work, you’ve crafted and maintained a flawed but intricate connection to this beautiful human who’s only just beginning to become fully herself and known to you. All of this gorgeous self-actualization is happening JUST as the time comes to say – “Cool. Now, go.” I know there will still be work and help and connections to foster. I know we have ahead of us the interesting and absorbing work of fostering a new relationship. Blah, blah, blah – I already miss my baby.

I am so deeply grateful that she seems to have come with a kind of cellular program that’s launched her “letting go” protocol. I should be happy that she’s developmentally on-time and on-target for leaving home and striking out on her own. She’s straining at the tether. I don’t know how it is that she is able to strike a balance between doing her own thing and retaining a kind of back-up connection to her aching, pining Mom. She did not get this kind of elegant programming from any kind of coding I might have provided to her. It is, I suspect, a combination of evolutionary hard-wiring and the influence of her broader community of adults.

And I’m glad she’s ready to strike out. I am so excited for all that she’s going to find when that tether snaps. Don’t get me wrong – I’m so very happy for her and I know that this inevitable “goodbye” is just the “right” thing. I also know that I have ahead of me more work and play during the 3 years left with The Boy at home. He’s an entirely different human with very different hard-wiring and needs. I will have a full plate trying to keep up with him, fostering and nurturing our own connection and observing the final countdown on his launch code.

But as I look ahead to next week’s observance of Mother’s Day (what an asinine “holiday” – but that’s for another post) I think I’m more pre-occupied with the big hairy reality of saying “Cool. Now, go.” to The Girl. And yes, I get it – I’m making it all about me. But indulge me for a minute. This shit is hard. It’s worth it. I wouldn’t want it any other way. And it’s fucking hard. It’s hard because I’ll miss her. I’ll miss her sardonic, goofy, smart sense of humor. I’ll miss how shockingly present and honest she can be. I’ll miss how self-aware she is. I’ll miss that she’s able to embrace her own strength, beauty and flaws with equal grace.

And I’m just the tiniest bit terrified that when she goes I’ll find myself with more time and bandwidth to do for myself the good work she’s done in her own, young life.  I think I may have put on hold to some degree some basic maintenance. I might in my effort to support and connect with the young’uns skipped a step or two in knowing who I am and what I want next and where I’m going. I don’t know if that means I’ve fucked up and missed a chapter in parenting. A) I can’t help it now – it’s too late to go back and edit that chapter of my life. And B) I shouldn’t care if I followed some unpublished manual on how to raise your progeny and retain and nurture your self-actualization. I’m pretty sure that volume is out of print, anyway. So now I’m circling back around to one of the central elements in my first blog post: what to do with myself?  I guess I launch my own separation code. I have no fucking idea how to write code. This will be hard. There will be glitches (I cannot believe I’m using a computer analogy), but I’ll work through the bugs.

I have a sense though of the ground I’ll need to cover, beginning with a need to be patient with myself, patient with everyone around me. These kinds of major life transitions don’t occur without impacting everyone in the system -- even to people in my ecosystem who seem not to be affected directly by The Girl’s departure. I’ll be patient enough with the transitions under way that I let events unfold without having big reactions to them. I’ll try just to let them happen in their own time and at their own pace – even if lightning fast – so that I can fully observe them, absorb their meaning and let those events settle before responding to them. Which means I’m going to learn to breathe – deeply and often. Breathing engenders patience. I wouldn’t know this from experience, so I’ll just trust that other, more oxygenated people know what they’re talking about. I’m pretty sure the Dalai Lama is to be trusted on this particular issue.

Patience will get me through the next few weeks. I think I’ll start with that. But next on the list will be to investigate further what it means to have fun. I’ll share here what Dusty and I have often discussed: having young people is a shocking amount of fun. I know it’s not my young’uns job to entertain me, but damned if it isn’t fun to have two dynamic, creative, funny, kind, smart young people in the home. It’ll brighten your day, expand your view of the Universe and fill any moment (however dark) with hope for the future and for humanity. Young people are the bomb. No wonder we are youth-obsessed as a society. So, after I work on that breathing thing and after I acquire a little more patience with myself, I think I’m going to start to work on my own creativity, how I define fun and what in the world will entertain me. Poor Dusty – I’m afraid I’m a little bit of mess right now. I’ll pray he remains patient with me (19 years and counting, God Bless him).