I sit with minutes to write. I sit in one of the many college student unions I've visited this week. This one's a little different because it's the school of my oldest and I'm waiting for him to get out of class so we can take him to dinner. It's hard to believe our family left Grass Valley less than 60 hours ago. This is our fourth college stop.
Today my emotions are all wound up. As in, my emotions sit in shoulder and neck pain unless I cry some hot tears, which I did a bit this morning. But just a bit. I'm still trying to unravel all the emotion these last days touch on.
Today's meditation for the 2 on the Enneagram was this. "Meditate on the childhood truth you missed, 'You are wanted'." For some perspective, my husband's and the 5s meditation today was, "Meditate on the childhood truth you missed, 'Your needs matter'."
To be the mother of three teens has felt BRUTAL on this trip. BRUTAL. My heart is in knots.
This is for so many reasons, but one of the biggest I've been able to understand is that the stand in the in-between just hurts. It hurts to be the nurturer and the needed to be nurtured. It burns like the splits to be the healer while seeking the healing.
To let the insensitivity and unawareness of the age of my kids bounce off a heart that can still be bruised by what felt like a childhood that didn't give me the resilience leaves me feeling a bit beat-up. I am learning, I am growing, I do not blame my parents for everything, but I know enough to know that if some things don't get put in place, it's a daily process, not a given, to be resilient.
To give wings to dreams of my children and at 45 still not be totally sure of the dreams of my own takes a level of emotional caliber that I am attempting, but far from perfectly executing.
During today's tour, I had to just walk away from the rest of my family for a good portion and get it together. One comment from one of them had particularly stung and I could not hear one more sarcastic degradation. Every family has their strengths and weaknesses. The ghosts of homeschooling haunt me the worst at these times with the voices of accusation that somehow I could have prevented this. My eyes burn with tears.
I don't have the answers except for this. My husband and I followed our dreams. It's partly why we have three kids. It's why we live where we live. It's part of the reason we homeschooled them and I stayed home and we chose jobs that let Todd work from home.
We dreamt of creating a family that offered more than where we came from.
We've followed this dream for over 20 years. It's been at great expense. There have been (recent) seasons of hanging on to the dream by its threads. And we're in a time where I have no idea what 5 years from now will look like, if what I do today even matters. But who ever does? Somehow, though, when they were younger, I was able to better feel the results of our choices as good.
Be at peace, parent, I try and tell myself this week. Cry when you need to. Take care of yourself, as well. Try and live what you say you believe: that it is not all up to you. That the writing of the stories: ours, our children, loved ones, friends, and enemies, is a combination of many factors.
If I'm honest, as the years have gone by and I go through my circumstances, I make choices. This is coupled with a heart's cry for that which I cannot control. I think of it as prayer, a call out to the divine. It has always been when I think I can control all of it, that there is a formula to living this life, that I have been the most deceived.
Be at peace, parent. You are wanted. Your needs matter.