The Undoing of The Nest
I have been at a loss of words for days now or maybe a few weeks. This is not the first time it has happened. An idea pops up, the beginning of a new blog, and then suddenly, I become unmotivated to finish. It doesn’t happen often, but I think that’s because I focus on my weekly writing goal (just write!), rather than worrying about what to write. With this in mind, I’m rarely at a loss for words when my fingers hit the keyboard. Yet sometimes, when my mind is filled with background noise that I would rather not hear, my ability to write, gets blocked. Welcome to August. The month of undoing.
How can we possibly undo this beautiful nest we have built?
I know if I take the time to listen to my own background noise, sort through it, and journal about it, I can clear the space to think again. I mean, I do have tools that work, it’s just a matter of using them. You know how that is though, right? You know that going to the gym will make you feel better, but that doesn’t mean you feel like going. That’s because the mere idea of it doesn’t make you feel better. In fact, the idea of it, probably makes you feel like lying down. And while the nap temporarily feels like a handy tool, it isn’t really helpful because when you wake up, there it is still front and center: you should really go to the gym.
But this isn’t like getting in a workout for me. This noise clattering in the back of my head, is about the upcoming, inevitable, unavoidable, impending undoing of the nest. It’s about looking fate squarely in the eyes and acknowledging that in just 4 days, our nest will be empty. We will be empty-nesters as the last one in the nest, the only daughter of our 4 children, will be heading to college.
It’s a blessing really. The fact that she is ready to fly. The fact that she is excited, all packed up, has a virtual relationship with a roommate she has never met, is excited to share the map of her hallway, where the bathroom is, the laundry room and exactly how long it will take her to get to each class. The the first few pages of her planner are already filled and while she already knows how many days it is until Thanksgiving, she is still smiling, being kinder than most 18-year-olds ready to fly and just seems ‘ready.’ I mention all of those things, because my superpower, the thing that helps me get through challenging moments in my life, is by focusing on the good. And that is exactly what I have been doing. I have been spending all of my energy simply asking her questions, listening actively to every answer she has, and every question still on her mind. Taking her through the aisles of Target as she reasons he way through what she needs, wants and isn’t really sure about. I relate to the way she thinks and plans, so at times being with her simply feels like being with a better version of myself. My relationship with her keeps the sweetness of my relationship with my mom alive in spirit. Even though her and I didn’t meet until she was about 3 years old, I have known since the beginning that she was going to be a blessing in my life. And I couldn’t have been more right about that.
It’s the aftermath of those moments, though, that I have to busy myself. Crank the music in the house, the car, my headset at the gym…just loud enough to drain out the rumbling I don’t want to hear. It is only until I force myself to see that the more I keep my feelings on the back burner, the harder it is to be truly present. I mean, I am here physically, but mentally, I’m far away on disbelief island.
And this is what gets me back in the game. I have missed too many moments in my life already, consumed with worry about things not yet here, to waste time on disbelief island. When I’m intentional, I’m committed to a life that allows me to be honest and present. I’m committed to not only being present to what is occurring in my life now, but also being present to how I feel in each moment, even when it just doesn’t feel great.
And so here I am, with four days left to undo this nest, before it empties.
Nesting. We experience nesting right before we give birth. I think that’s a universal act, though am not positive. Either way, I surely did it and do it a lot, even when not about to give birth. I do it when change is about to occur. You know, clean up, aisle 9. It’s a great distraction from the change that is about to occur, but that isn’t the only purpose for me. It gives me the chance to create a positive change, one in my control, so that the next change (maybe not in my control) feels less uncomfortable. I move furniture around, buy new bedding, paint a small room or even a piece of furniture.
In the case of my soon-to-be missing daughter, I have been moving my mom’s bedroom furniture from our beach house, into my current house. Although I originally planned on selling it, once in my garage, I had a yearning to be near it. And so I began to undo the nest by selling my current furniture. It wasn’t like an out with the old and in with the new, because technically I was replacing my old furniture, with my mom’s even older furniture, yet still, something about it warmed my heart.
Just seeing the hidden gems mom found on her daily runs at garage sales, lifted my spirits. Instead of staring at the TV, I would stare at the coffee table, recalling the excitement in her voice just as she was about to paint it. I remember smiling and that makes me smile even now. The furniture has been the perfect distraction and has quieted the noise in the back of my head, giving space to my real fears.
I’m not ready for her to leave. I need more time. I know that she is just going off to school, but also how quickly she will transition the way she should. Building her own new home (in the dorms), her own new family (with a brand-new circle of friends we won’t know). I know, as I have seen before, that each time she returns home, she will mentally be visiting. I already dread having her transition into visitor. Even though it is how it should go. Even though it is such a blessing that she wants to and is capable, I can’t help but dread it.
I need more time. Is there ever enough time?
This is not my first rodeo. In fact, this is my 4th episode of ma, watch me now, and im not too proud to admit, this episode never gets easier for me. I have loved being mama, even when an extra 10 years was added on with my second marriage. Twenty-nine years of wondering what they will want to eat, what time they will be here, what their plans will be, what level of happiness or stress they would be enduring. Twenty-nine years of enjoying small talk, silence side by side, late night movies, ice cream runs and checking myself to see if I’m speaking more than listening. Wondering if I am spending more time doing than being. Twenty-nine years of thinking about what I should bake, how the sandwich is cut this year, how many questions I am allowed to ask. Twenty-nine years of always knowing that someone would walk in the door with the biggest gift of all, the hug. The one that connects us on the best days and the worst.
That’s nearly 3 decades which is longer than the longest career I have ever had. And when I think about that, I am able to give myself some grace about the deep sadness I feel, even though I should be so happy. I can acknowledge that one of my favorite parts about being mom has always been waking to the quiet of the morning, that first smell of coffee, and knowing that there are sleeping children in bed…even though they haven’t been children in quiet some time.
That’s really all there is to do in this undoing game. It is just an acknowledgement of what is so and allowing the feelings to follow. And now that I am here, I can sort through it and recreate my narrative around the last of the chicks finding her spot out in the world. Surely the undoing of a nest must involve a perspective shift and so here is what I’ve come up with.
Even visitors can bring back the warmth, love and connections just like when they lived under our roof.
Perhaps this last flight will create a new set of wings for myself.
And maybe, because this nest has been filled so long, new chicks may be just around the corner.
Whose to say what lies around the corner, but for now, it’s time to embrace the undoing of the nest and find joy in the simplicity of the unknown.