I haven’t really ever felt the sting, angst or challenge of a new year the way I am tossing and turning into this new year. It feels like birthing pain. Unavoidable. I could, of course, focus on gratitude and appreciation that every single new year is not this troublesome.
In a way, I deserve it. There have been plenty of years where I pooh-poohed the notion of resolutions, ignored the big countdown, shook my head in dismay wondering to myself, “What is the big deal?”
Well this year is the Big One for me. The new year feels like the floor slipping away underneath my feet. And now it’s time to practice walking on a tightrope at a dizzying new height.
A doctor friend handed me a book, “The Launching Years” by Laura Kastner and Jennifer Wyatt, realizing that my nerves were frayed because my twin daughters are graduating from high school. I have been completely absorbed in being a support structure to them while they burn their way through the college application process. This January, I get the double pleasure of their turning 18 and my trying to figure out where to flush all of my parenting rules.
My girls have a burn pile for their SAT books and probably every little stinking rule I ever had.
I read the book offered by my doctor friend. I went into the book expecting to find what else I forgot to do before they turn 18. Instead, there were shocking discoveries.
In all the business of college applications, saving money for a graduation trip, and endless little experiments in letting them decide things on their own, I completely overlooked something.
The book has checklists and questionnaires to assess abilities. It helps you figure out things like do your kids know how to manage a checking account or can they cope with disappointment without harming themselves. Basically I read through the lists and realized, wow, my kids are really doing fine. Phew. I could stop worrying about them.
The checklist for parents was the scary part. I failed miserably. It’s as if I’m ready to have kids entering high school, not leaving high school. There is a whole lot of stuff I haven’t done to prepare myself for this new year.
The book talks about the importance of parents’ having interests outside their kids, of having a life and a day that doesn’t revolve around their kids, of having their own happiness and joy not tied to the emotional ups and downs of their kids.
Each section of the book has 10 questions for parents. I failed nine out of 10 questions directed at a parent’s ability to function without focusing on the kids.
I’m not even sure where to begin. I’m like an addict. I’ve been addicted to my kids, watching every little moment, hypnotically enchanted.
It’s kind of pathetic sounding, and I don’t really want the honor badge that comes with this sort of crazy devotion. I just want to say that once parents have lived fully and completely circling the lives of their kids, even more than they realize, it’s a very big deal to figure out what else your life could revolve around.
Life’s big passages: retirement, birth, death – they all sort of provide a compass for how we orient ourselves. Then there is some shift that forces us to reorient ourselves, and there is a great deal of groundwork to lay to create a new life.
I don’t quite even know where to begin for this one. Every other year has seemed easier, every passageway was more clearly marked. This year begins and I am just wondering where to start.
Sarri Gilman is a freelance writer living on Whidbey Island. Her column on living with meaning and purpose runs every other Tuesday in The Herald. She is a therapist, a wife and a mother, and has founded two nonprofit organizations to serve homeless children. You can e-mail her at features@ heraldnet.com.
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