catharsis

I dropped my son off at the airport the other day. He came home for the first time this past weekend since we took him to college in August. It hadn’t been that long since we had seen him, but it felt like it had been months!

We had a really nice visit complete with breakfast sandwiches, steak, tacos, pumpkin bread - all his favorites, and I got used to his sneakers by the front door and dishes in the sink. It didn’t feel messy instead it felt cozy and peaceful. It was like a balm to my nervous system to have all of my ducklings together again under one roof. I think I even slept well!

How many times did I hear my mom say how nice it was to have all of her kids home at the same time. Now, I get it. I want to call her and discuss. Since I can’t do that exactly, I imagine what she would say, and this softens the ache of my longing.

After I squeezed my son and kissed his sweet face a few times as we stood on the curb, I let him go. Because this is what we do. This is what we have to do. We are lucky that we get to, and it’s also hard not to hold on tighter because truthfully, I didn’t want to let him go. I drove away and cried and cried, letting it all out.

Coming and going, helloing and goodbye-ing is something I’ve grown accustomed to with many of my close friends and family members who live all over the place but I’m a work in progress with this regarding my son.

Will I ever acclimate?

When Josh and the kids and I would visit my mom in NJ during the summer and at Christmastime, she’d adjust to the noise and seeing my bra hanging over the back of the couch again as toys littered the floor, only to have us pack up and leave to go back home to Tampa.

She would be in a state for some time sharing with me on the phone about how quiet it was and how mopey the dog looked without us there. Inevitably, she got used to us being gone. She would tell me that she kept herself busy and that helped. I understand now what she meant about being occupied and busy in a way I never did before.  

We’re asked many times in life to readjust and recalibrate. Over and over again. Recently, over lunch with two dear friends whose husbands died way too young, my friend Lisa, graciously shared what helped her cope in the wake of her husband’s sudden and untimely death. She said that after a few months, she felt a nudge to try something new, so she started playing pickleball. And in Lisa’s typical, fabulous, magic-manifesting fashion, she also started a business around her new hobby turned passion. It brought her so much joy. And this helped her heal and in addition, inspired everyone around her.

I love this because it signals to our brains, to our entire beings really, that we are safe, and that we’re here to enjoy life. That even though it’s challenging, and we may not want to, we’re going to keep celebrating, living, expressing, creating, and trying new things taking our broken hearts along for the ride. And in turn our hearts take notice. They like being tended to. They love being the center of attention! It’s like we’re giving them a hot water bottle and chocolate while watching a comforting 80’s movie with an awkward dance scene at the prom. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it helps. And it gives our hearts something to keep showing up for. It keeps ours hearts busy and occupied. My mom was right. Moms know everything!

As I enter this new era of strangers on planes asking me if I have grandkids yet and wondering if I should be contemplating teeth whitening, bangs, Botox or all of the above, I’m also getting ready for the world’s kindest and most patient music teacher to teach me how to play my new bass guitar. (Josh knows me well– no need for a new sports car or piece of sparkly jewelry to satiate my midlife crisis - on second thought, I do like jewelry – but musical instruments, most of which I can’t play, will do just fine). I’m thrilled and deeply grateful to be writing a new chapter and one that includes music.

I will keep surrounding myself with people I love and love me and am gratefully spending less time thinking about whether others think I’m worthy, smart, attractive, weird, nice enough, etc. That’s their business, not mine.

This new chapter is less about a budding crisis on the horizon, and more of a blooming catharsis. I’m trying new things and nowhere near as self-conscious or as critical of myself as I used to be.

And these transitions are really bridges, opportunities to connect more deeply and meaningfully to our lives, our souls, source and one another. When you peel it all away, what is left is love.

And whenever I see my sweet peeps again, I’ll be present with hugs, smooches, and most likely playing the same three notes over and over again on my bass guitar. There is a reason I quit music lessons in the past, it’s not easy! As my beloved teacher friend, Michael, posted recently, life is more circles than lines. And circles never end.