It was never going to happen to me, some strange phenomena called empty nest. My son and I were so close that he was never going to want to move out; fly away, at least not at anytime soon. He appeared offended at the mere
thought of living away from me. So when this empty nest thing suddenly dropped from the sky and onto my head a few weeks ago, I was shocked to my core. I would have liked to have had a little more time to work on building his life muscles just a bit more. I wondered
and perhaps even wished that I was in some strange dream/nightmare and hoped desperately to awake from it.
His flying the coup may have been especially hard for me because my own mother had given me away when I was only three years of age to a couple who I would have to leave at age sixteen for they were less than loving
and rather extremely abusive.
As I built my life on my own terms, I vowed that I would never abandon my future child nor allow him to be in the hands of anyone who could hurt him.
Thirty years later, my nineteen year old son would suddenly decide that he no longer wanted to live with me, that I was overbearing and over protective and even a control freak.
During the last few weeks while I was trying unsuccessfully to understand what he was trying to convey, many not so pretty words were exchanged between him and I. There were tears, anger and extreme frustrations
on both of our parts. We argued about his social life that seemed in excess, about the amount of time he appeared to be investing in his school work which seemed not enough and other issues. We were losing control of our communication and fast losing the sense of
connection that seemed so to exist so easily just a few months back.
We have had fights and heated arguments in the past, ranging from personal topics, to ideological and intellectual. But our bond never failed. Some even seemed to envy our closeness. We
talked about everything with one another.
He once welcomed my advice. But it seemed that those days are long gone and now at nineteen, he was asking that I just simply trust him to know what he is doing, that he will make good choices and that he will
take good care of himself.
All my doubts poured into my heart. I questioned how he would know who to trust, what is best for him and how he would recognize danger. I questioned what he will do without my coaching and
teaching.
But when my “coaching and teaching” was no longer wanted by my child, and my “coaching and teaching” was causing nothing but anger and resentment in him, this was a blaring sign that I must let go.
After weeks of struggling to guide and control, I finally hit bottom. I hit a wall. I was forced to realize that I had to completely let go of control. My attempt to hold on lead me to manifest
a painful kidney infection and no positive influence on my child.
I realized that there had to be a right time for everything. All my coaching, teaching (which now had gained the labels: over bearing and controlling) were appropriate for his current success (getting into one of
the top law schools in the country as a nineteen year old), but now it no longer fit him. I was impinging on his sense of freedom, sense of independence and perhaps even his sense of identity.
After all the debris fell (well, some may still be falling as I write this… and as I work to heal my kidney infection)… I am of the opinion that I must give him his freedom in as big a way as he is asking and trust
that I had done a good enough job and just cut the string (I don’t want to use the misogynistic term apron string)… so let me call it for the time being, a protective rope.
Life is full of chances that we need to take. I am not able to make all things perfect… I cannot force it, and I cannot control it, and trying to control it creates only ugliness. And perhaps, not
controlling it, losing all control of it, may in the end create something even more beautiful.
Letting go was hard for me because I am a mother. Letting go was additionally hard for me because, I had been left by my mother when I was too little. It was hard for me because I had vowed to keep my
family together forever and losing him meant that I was failing at it.
But I also remembered something that I always said to parents as I preached about being there for them, to never kick their children out of their home. What I used to say was… and I quote, “ it is always better
for the child to reject the parents”… so there it is, my words coming true, not to hunt me but to wake me. So there he is rejecting me, pushing me out of his life so that he may have his own. It is his time. And it is mine.
My son is so sure of himself, so strong and confident that he can ask to live on his own. He is so strong and confident that he can say, “I will do well in school because I want to, not because it will please
you. He is so strong and confident that he can be all right without me over night. I must have done something right with him, with all of the warts of my childhood and all.
