Our relationship is changing. It was bound to happen, but I'd held onto this thread of denial that it wouldn't. That we could somehow survive the teen years without growing pains. That I would somehow find that perfect balance of pulling away, yet remaining close enough.
Now that the panic has subsided, and new strategies formed, I find myself in mourning, a feeling I foolishly thought would not happen to me.
I miss her. I miss being able to easily laugh with her, relax with her, and the exchange of thoughts, ideas and feelings I came to expect with her.
I hate how typical we've become. She with her buzzing cell phone and ever-present headphones dangling from her ears. Me with my lecturing tone and constantly saying "no" and the uncomfortable silences. We are more often guarded with each other than we are ourselves. We are reaching out to others rather than coming to each other. We are more often dwelling on the faults we find in each other than enjoying each other's company.
I don't wish she was little again, but I do wish we could rush through this stage. I find myself clinging to my own parents in this time, so grateful to have them here, so guilty for what I put them through when I was her age.
I'm sure we'll find our way back to each other again, and there are moments here and there that feel like the "us" that I cherish, and I hold those as tight as I can to last me until the next one. They make me believe that we will once again have what we had, what I have again with my own mom. I know it will get better. But, like Artie in Glee, I just want it to be better. Now.
3 comments:
There is no "rushing" through it, but boy do I get it.
And Empty Nest?
As with everything else, it has it's pros and cons.
It changes, April. Even when we're so certain that some aspects of that core relationship will not - all the more fundamental when it's just you - solo - battling to raise them well.
And it has to change, because ultimately what we want for them is to stand on their own, having learning from their (we hope not too terrible) missteps, and able to fly. Better yet, to soar.
All I can give you are hugs & hope you feel better! This too shall pass...
Have you read "Hold Me Close, Let Me Go: A mother, a daughter, and an Adolescence Survived" by Adair Lara? I have *not* read it, but I read another book by Lara that I really liked. I think Hold Me Close probably is an interesting look into fraught relationships like that.
Christina
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