It's official: I have been admitted to the university's Master's degree program in Community Counseling. In June (only several weeks away), I will begin to work toward doing what I must to become a licensed mental health counselor.
Consistent with Life's serendipitous nature, my skills as a potential counselor are being tested - to the extreme. My own children are struggling with establishing foundations upon which to build the rest of their lives. In particular, my 25 year old son, my 23 year old daughter, and my 22 year old son are each returning to the nest, unable to be self-sufficient, and looking to me to help them. In essence, I must devise a treatment plan for each one of them, and then guide them toward becoming who they really are.
This daunting task is one that would have been better met had our home not gone into foreclosure six years ago. So, this is unfinished business. Some have said that since they are officially adults, it is their responsibility now to do what they must to establish themselves; I disagree. I believe I owe it to them to assist them, as best I can, toward their next step. They are still adolescents, in terms of their emotional development and as a result of our household falling apart when it did. Therefore, I feel fully responsible for helping them transition into adulthood.
I must admit that I am somewhat angry that their father is no longer in the area and so the burden falls directly upon me. I admit that I feel some resentment that he fell short of providing all that was necessary when the kids were young; but, I was not much better. We both allowed the dynamics of our relationship to interfere with the primary task at hand: childrearing. Looking back, I now realize that we were selfish and never looked at our household from the childrens' perspective. As a result, the kids suffered the most. So now, as a result, we owe it to our kids to pull them up out of the chaos that we as their parents created. We must fix what we destroyed.
Realizing all of this puts me in a position where my vocational skills - however immature they may still be - are being called upon and put to the test. In the coming weeks, it will be my task to consult privately with each of these three, determine what they want to do, and then help them create a realistic, workable plan to guide them as they set out to achieve their goals. Naturally, their participation is mandatory; without it, however good my guidance might be, it will not succeed.
So my mind is racing with ideas and insights: vocational assessments, networking, creating resumes, and lots and lots of encouragement.
And it is not just my own three grown children that I will be assisting here, but also their partners. So it is a large task indeed. But, it will be a good test for me. It will train me to be objective, realistic, and consistent. I will need to explore what is available in the community that might benefit them. I must be creative. I must follow up daily to ensure completion of goals. And it won't be easy.
Doing all of this will also require that we all keep the goal in sight. And, it will mean that we must encourage each other. We can't fall back into the habit of complacency. This is our last chance to set a solid foundation. Without it, a lifetime of despair is inevitable.
It's a tall order, but I am nonetheless optimistic!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
TAKE THE BLAME or THROW IT RIGHT BACK??
My daughter tells me that part of the reason she left with the kids is because she thinks the rest of the household - primarily me and Jim - interferred with her parenting. Did we?? Or did we simply surrogate and stand in to compensate for her neglect??
And really, what ever happened to multi-generational co-parenting? What is the crime committed when a grandparent subsidizes the custodial responsibilities? We paid all the bills and expected very little in return. We urged them to take advantage of the situation and go to school, establish a career, save money, and create a stable foundation on which to build the rest of their lives. Instead, they sat. Instead, they let time go by without making any investment into their future. No foundation was laid. And then, she takes the kids and leaves, without warning.
No, I won't take the blame here. I refuse. We offered an opportunity. We offered all that we had. In return, all we really wanted was appreciation. Instead, I feel punished. We are being reprimanded and chastized for our experienced-parent insights and methods. Rather than acknowledge our expertise and 20/20 hindsight, we have been accused of meddling and inteferring.
I won't take the blame! Still, I must endure the punishment. I cannot help but feel this was an assault and a power play against us. She took the kids and left simply because she can and most of all, because she knew in advance how devastated we would be, once again proving our point that she does not put the needs of the kids first. Revenge was first and foremost in her mind. This was not a selfless act toward improving their lives; it was a selfish, manipulative, impulsive act done in anger, resentment, and perhaps even desperation. While I can certainly understand her desire to be independed, she and the kids' father have had five years to work toward independence, but neglected that goal in favor of self-indulgence. And now, not only do WE pay the price, but so do the grandchildren. And there's not a single thing I can do about it. I can cry. I can ache to hold them in my arms. But I cannot bring them back. I cannot insist that she do anything, period.
No, I throw it all back, in spite of the pain I feel and the wounds that continue to fester. I throw it all back. We provided opportunities; they disregarded them. Blame us if you'd like, but I will throw it right back!
And really, what ever happened to multi-generational co-parenting? What is the crime committed when a grandparent subsidizes the custodial responsibilities? We paid all the bills and expected very little in return. We urged them to take advantage of the situation and go to school, establish a career, save money, and create a stable foundation on which to build the rest of their lives. Instead, they sat. Instead, they let time go by without making any investment into their future. No foundation was laid. And then, she takes the kids and leaves, without warning.
No, I won't take the blame here. I refuse. We offered an opportunity. We offered all that we had. In return, all we really wanted was appreciation. Instead, I feel punished. We are being reprimanded and chastized for our experienced-parent insights and methods. Rather than acknowledge our expertise and 20/20 hindsight, we have been accused of meddling and inteferring.
I won't take the blame! Still, I must endure the punishment. I cannot help but feel this was an assault and a power play against us. She took the kids and left simply because she can and most of all, because she knew in advance how devastated we would be, once again proving our point that she does not put the needs of the kids first. Revenge was first and foremost in her mind. This was not a selfless act toward improving their lives; it was a selfish, manipulative, impulsive act done in anger, resentment, and perhaps even desperation. While I can certainly understand her desire to be independed, she and the kids' father have had five years to work toward independence, but neglected that goal in favor of self-indulgence. And now, not only do WE pay the price, but so do the grandchildren. And there's not a single thing I can do about it. I can cry. I can ache to hold them in my arms. But I cannot bring them back. I cannot insist that she do anything, period.
No, I throw it all back, in spite of the pain I feel and the wounds that continue to fester. I throw it all back. We provided opportunities; they disregarded them. Blame us if you'd like, but I will throw it right back!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
EMOTIONAL PAIN
I guess it has been quite a while since I've felt like this. I chastise myself for not being more grateful and not more aware of my general happiness these past few years. I haven't felt emotional pain like this since Christina was incarcerated.
Today, Christina took the kids and left for Texas. I know. I know. Kids are supposed to leave the nest. And it is no secret that I've longed for the day that they would do just that. But not like this. Not so far away. And most of all, not taking the kids without Brian. Ada in particular will be crushed, devasted, and lost without her daddy.
If I could know that the kids would have a relatively easy adjustment, I would miss them, but could rejoice in their new life-path. But this? This fills me with worry, anxiety, dread, and deep concern and empathy for my grandchildren. In fact, most of my sadness is on their behalf. I carry the burden of the pain they are approaching. To a three- and five-year old, "going to Texas" sounds like an adventure, like "going to the mall," or "going to the museum." They have no concept of the distance, the time, and the relative permanancy of this move. And so, on their behalf, I shed tears and feel the pain of separation anxiety, longing for that which is familiar, and the aching loss of not having Brian in their daily life. For them, I ache.
Then there is the underlying anger: Why did Brian allow this to happen?? Why did he sign the forms giving Christina permission to take the kids across state lines? And above all, why weren't they both planning for this eventual moment when Damien would be ready to start school?? They knew from the day they brought him into this world that they would have five years to get on their feet and move into a safe neighborhood. But they allowed their selfish youth to stand in the way of their parental responsibilities. Surely this must be my karmic debt for my own youthful errors as a parent. Is this what my mom felt??
A storm is moving in. Good. I hope it clears the air. The emotional pain I feel right now is immobilizing pain. It has kept me from doing much of anything other than ruminating and noticing the blaring silence in the house. Their little ghosts are everywhere: Ada's pajamas lying on the floor; Damien's toys here and there; the empty bedrooms; their dirty cups from this morning still in the sink waiting to be washed one last time...
And yet, I must remind myself that many mothers and grandmothers have suffered even greater loss and pain and there are those who would gladly trade their calamity for mine. Put it in perspective, I remind myself. Yet, it doesn't matter to me at this moment what others are experiencing; just knowing the pain that awaits MY grandchildren is all I can comprehend right now.
I realize childhood is perilous and it is a wonder any of us survive. No matter. I want to spare them of the inevitable pain. They've had enough already when their mom was incarcerated. The longing for a missing parent; now they must experience that all over again, this time for daddy. So unfair. Why don't parents consider the children?? Why do parents minimize the trauma??
Bring on the storms. I hope the wind rips through here, clearing the air and takes the pain right along with it.
Today, Christina took the kids and left for Texas. I know. I know. Kids are supposed to leave the nest. And it is no secret that I've longed for the day that they would do just that. But not like this. Not so far away. And most of all, not taking the kids without Brian. Ada in particular will be crushed, devasted, and lost without her daddy.
If I could know that the kids would have a relatively easy adjustment, I would miss them, but could rejoice in their new life-path. But this? This fills me with worry, anxiety, dread, and deep concern and empathy for my grandchildren. In fact, most of my sadness is on their behalf. I carry the burden of the pain they are approaching. To a three- and five-year old, "going to Texas" sounds like an adventure, like "going to the mall," or "going to the museum." They have no concept of the distance, the time, and the relative permanancy of this move. And so, on their behalf, I shed tears and feel the pain of separation anxiety, longing for that which is familiar, and the aching loss of not having Brian in their daily life. For them, I ache.
Then there is the underlying anger: Why did Brian allow this to happen?? Why did he sign the forms giving Christina permission to take the kids across state lines? And above all, why weren't they both planning for this eventual moment when Damien would be ready to start school?? They knew from the day they brought him into this world that they would have five years to get on their feet and move into a safe neighborhood. But they allowed their selfish youth to stand in the way of their parental responsibilities. Surely this must be my karmic debt for my own youthful errors as a parent. Is this what my mom felt??
A storm is moving in. Good. I hope it clears the air. The emotional pain I feel right now is immobilizing pain. It has kept me from doing much of anything other than ruminating and noticing the blaring silence in the house. Their little ghosts are everywhere: Ada's pajamas lying on the floor; Damien's toys here and there; the empty bedrooms; their dirty cups from this morning still in the sink waiting to be washed one last time...
And yet, I must remind myself that many mothers and grandmothers have suffered even greater loss and pain and there are those who would gladly trade their calamity for mine. Put it in perspective, I remind myself. Yet, it doesn't matter to me at this moment what others are experiencing; just knowing the pain that awaits MY grandchildren is all I can comprehend right now.
I realize childhood is perilous and it is a wonder any of us survive. No matter. I want to spare them of the inevitable pain. They've had enough already when their mom was incarcerated. The longing for a missing parent; now they must experience that all over again, this time for daddy. So unfair. Why don't parents consider the children?? Why do parents minimize the trauma??
Bring on the storms. I hope the wind rips through here, clearing the air and takes the pain right along with it.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
BE CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT YOU WISH FOR...
...BECAUSE IT MIGHT JUST HAPPEN!
Well, that's what my mom has always said and I have found it to be true.
Tomorrow morning, my youngest daughter will be moving from our home in Illinois to Texas and she will be taking her two children, Damien (5) and Ada (3). I am heartbroken.
Everyday I have felt overcrowded and overwhelmed by the size of our household and have both dreamed and wished for the day when the grown kids would finally be able to move out. Perhaps my desires weren't specific enough because although I longed for the solitude, I never ever wanted my kids and grandkids to move all the way across the country.
I am consumed with worry, as only a mother can do. A million "what-if's" run through my head and my anxiety reaches a fevered pitch. What if the kids are traumatized by leaving the only home they have ever known? What if Ada cannot cope with being suddenly away from her daddy? What if the man my daughter will be living with is not friendly with the kids? What if someone gets seriously hurt and I cannot get to them quickly? What if my daughter cannot handle full-time parenting without the relief that she's known here with a houseful of available adults?
And then there are the "what-if's" about me: What if I cannot cope with their absence? What if I cannot find happiness in the solitude I've craved for so long? What will I do with my time, now that my daily housework load will be greatly reduced? Will I do all the things I've longed to do? Or will I be consumed with melancholy sadness missing my son (who relocated to Phoenix nine months ago), my baby girl, and my grandchildren?
No. I must be strong. Certainly I am not the first parent/grandparent to experience this. In today's world, families separate and move far from each other all the time. I am not alone. But I don't like it. Parenting was so much easier when I could control where they went and what they did.
A lesson to be learned here, I am sure.
I want only the very best for my children. I want them to create their own lives just as they would like it to be. I've always wanted them to realize that there is a whole world outside of southern Cook County, and so I should feel a sense of satisfaction that, in spite of anxiety, two of my six children have ventured out into the world and are chasing down their dreams far from home.
And yet, tomorrow morning as they pull away, I will be crushed and I will be wondering if my constant longing for solitude is the reason for their leaving and I will be asking myself, "Did I cause this?"
Well, that's what my mom has always said and I have found it to be true.
Tomorrow morning, my youngest daughter will be moving from our home in Illinois to Texas and she will be taking her two children, Damien (5) and Ada (3). I am heartbroken.
Everyday I have felt overcrowded and overwhelmed by the size of our household and have both dreamed and wished for the day when the grown kids would finally be able to move out. Perhaps my desires weren't specific enough because although I longed for the solitude, I never ever wanted my kids and grandkids to move all the way across the country.
I am consumed with worry, as only a mother can do. A million "what-if's" run through my head and my anxiety reaches a fevered pitch. What if the kids are traumatized by leaving the only home they have ever known? What if Ada cannot cope with being suddenly away from her daddy? What if the man my daughter will be living with is not friendly with the kids? What if someone gets seriously hurt and I cannot get to them quickly? What if my daughter cannot handle full-time parenting without the relief that she's known here with a houseful of available adults?
And then there are the "what-if's" about me: What if I cannot cope with their absence? What if I cannot find happiness in the solitude I've craved for so long? What will I do with my time, now that my daily housework load will be greatly reduced? Will I do all the things I've longed to do? Or will I be consumed with melancholy sadness missing my son (who relocated to Phoenix nine months ago), my baby girl, and my grandchildren?
No. I must be strong. Certainly I am not the first parent/grandparent to experience this. In today's world, families separate and move far from each other all the time. I am not alone. But I don't like it. Parenting was so much easier when I could control where they went and what they did.
A lesson to be learned here, I am sure.
I want only the very best for my children. I want them to create their own lives just as they would like it to be. I've always wanted them to realize that there is a whole world outside of southern Cook County, and so I should feel a sense of satisfaction that, in spite of anxiety, two of my six children have ventured out into the world and are chasing down their dreams far from home.
And yet, tomorrow morning as they pull away, I will be crushed and I will be wondering if my constant longing for solitude is the reason for their leaving and I will be asking myself, "Did I cause this?"
Monday, April 4, 2011
NO APOLOGIES
I have entered a very selfish stage of life and I make no apologies. I firmly believe I have earned the right after a lifetime of giving, nurturing, mothering, and caring for everyone else's needs but my own. I am done putting myself last.
My quest for solitude reflects this self-absorbed, self-centered desire to be my own best friend and can no longer tolerate any hint of subservience. I want it to be MY way all the time. "I don't care what you say anymore this is MY life. Go ahead with your own life; leave me alone."
The other day I had a doctor appointment. The nurse came in and he asked me the obligatory, "When was your last menstrual period?" I responded with the usual, "Ummm, well, um..." and he said, "Oh yeah, I see here you are Menopausal." So it's official. My medical chart might as well say "Old Lady" in bold letters across the top. And I am NOT menopausal; I'm perimenopausal. I still get periods, from time to time. But I guess since the regularity is gone and has been replaced primarily with spotting as opposed to gushing and hemorrhaging, I am an old, menopausal patient. Well, at least I have an excuse now.
So I stand by my deep HORMONAL need to be left the fuck alone. Call me neurotic, obsessive, crabby, unreasonable, or whatever you choose. "You can stand me up at the gates of hell but I won't back down!" No longer do I feel obliged to tolerate much of anything that annoys me. If I don't approve, too bad. If it pisses me off, deal with it. If you can't tolerate me, find the door - and don't let it hit you in the ass.
Yeah, stick a fork in me; I'm done.
My quest for solitude reflects this self-absorbed, self-centered desire to be my own best friend and can no longer tolerate any hint of subservience. I want it to be MY way all the time. "I don't care what you say anymore this is MY life. Go ahead with your own life; leave me alone."
The other day I had a doctor appointment. The nurse came in and he asked me the obligatory, "When was your last menstrual period?" I responded with the usual, "Ummm, well, um..." and he said, "Oh yeah, I see here you are Menopausal." So it's official. My medical chart might as well say "Old Lady" in bold letters across the top. And I am NOT menopausal; I'm perimenopausal. I still get periods, from time to time. But I guess since the regularity is gone and has been replaced primarily with spotting as opposed to gushing and hemorrhaging, I am an old, menopausal patient. Well, at least I have an excuse now.
So I stand by my deep HORMONAL need to be left the fuck alone. Call me neurotic, obsessive, crabby, unreasonable, or whatever you choose. "You can stand me up at the gates of hell but I won't back down!" No longer do I feel obliged to tolerate much of anything that annoys me. If I don't approve, too bad. If it pisses me off, deal with it. If you can't tolerate me, find the door - and don't let it hit you in the ass.
Yeah, stick a fork in me; I'm done.
Friday, April 1, 2011
ELUSIVE CONTENTMENT
I think I finally figured out what would make me happy in a peaceful, contented, all-is-well-with-my-world sort of way! I want a little house!
I could live quite happily in a home no larger than a garage! While it is true that I have always loved old Victorian homes or vintage farmhouses, the truth is, when I see homes like this one, I feel like a kid in a candy store: I WANT IT! I WANT IT!
Of course, a home like this indicates that I'd be living alone. It's not that I don't love my partner; I do. It's not about sleeping around; it's about sleeping alone! It's about solitude and territory. It's about what is uniquely mine. I don't need much: a place to eat, sleep, and a desk to work at. I would willingly relinquish my book collection (which takes up a lot of space) and other dust-collectors to live as simply as this. I do believe that if I had a place of my own like this one, I would finally begin to feel a sense of peace and happiness in a way that I have not felt since perhaps my earliest childhood years.
Furthermore, this is a realistic goal! It is do-able and affordable!
Finally, a realistic goal that will produce more than fleeting happiness! This truly is a dream that CAN come true! It is possible. I can do it!
Of course, a home like this indicates that I'd be living alone. It's not that I don't love my partner; I do. It's not about sleeping around; it's about sleeping alone! It's about solitude and territory. It's about what is uniquely mine. I don't need much: a place to eat, sleep, and a desk to work at. I would willingly relinquish my book collection (which takes up a lot of space) and other dust-collectors to live as simply as this. I do believe that if I had a place of my own like this one, I would finally begin to feel a sense of peace and happiness in a way that I have not felt since perhaps my earliest childhood years.
Furthermore, this is a realistic goal! It is do-able and affordable!
Finally, a realistic goal that will produce more than fleeting happiness! This truly is a dream that CAN come true! It is possible. I can do it!
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