The empty nest.
It’s taken me a week to be able to write this blog as I knew that even just writing it would make me cry and frankly I’ve only just got to a point where I’m not crying daily.
A week ago I took my last of five children to university. Such a huge transition for me. I got pregnant at 16 and had my first child at just 17, so at 51 I haven’t spent any of my life alone without a child at home. Partners may have come and gone but my children and my role of being a mother, have not. For the first time in my adult life, I will live alone. I’m lucky that one of my older sons is with me for just a couple of months to ease that transition, I’m not sure how well I would have fared coming home to a completely empty house.
It's been a week of reflection as I come to terms with my role changing. My son settled super well (despite my worries) so I really am not needed. Yes, of course my children will always need a mother, but not in an everyday, have you done your washing and are you okay way. Suddenly my focus is on me. It’s both wonderful and scary.
After a day getting settled in his new room, I said my goodbyes and gave him a huge hug, not knowing when I would see him again. I pulled my sunglasses down and walked to the car with tears streaming down my face. I just about managed to stop crying to check myself into a hotel (I chose to stay nearby for 2 nights so he knew I was on hand if he needed me). So there I am sobbing alone in a hotel so full of sadness and loss. Three things struck me. One, why on earth did I think I should be alone after dropping him – a sad fact of busy friends and no partner, why had I not organised something. If I lived in a true tribe, I would be surrounded by other women who had also made this transition and who would hold me literally, emotionally and spiritually. In today’s society we have isolated ourselves too much. Secondly, this is a child with aspirations to travel the world and work with animals, he literally has to leave home to fulfil them! Thirdly, I am really ready after 34 years of parenting to see who I am when I’m not in a mother focused role.
Luckily my eldest daughter picked up that role and soothed me for over an hour. Then my youngest daughter and another son picked up the gauntlet of checking in with me. I do have a mini team here!
The next day I cried on some local friends. Cried at the beach, cried in bed that night. The day after I cried driving out of the city he was in, cried driving into our village and down the road knowing I was coming home without him. Why am I telling you this? Because so many people I know have reported friends, and friends of friends, who are ashamed and surprised by the extent of their grief. It is grief, a huge loss. I felt a physical punch in the stomach on waking up the first three days. No matter how happy your child is, to want them back, to want things not to change, to be slightly scared of what lies next, is just normal. I want to show you that someone whose done a huge amount of work about being alone and is really looking forward to that stage of her life, struggled hugely with it. Tears are allowed.
This empty nest feeling was something I so struggled to put into words. Things like not having to constantly clear up after others, not have to eat at certain times, the intense freedom of doing exactly what I like. A few days ago I finished work and did Pilates – at dinner time! The calm and quiet of a house with just me is strange, but refreshing and yet clashes with the feelings of loss.
I feel so sad that I was not this version of me when my kids were little. I wish with an intensity that I could go back with all of who this version is now. Centred, mentally healthy, calm, less conflict orientated and less stressed. Younger, I was fitter and more playful, but definitely less happy and more stressed. I’m also grieving that my children won’t ever grow up with that mother. It’s one of the reasons I love working with people with young kids. That they are committed to change while their babies are young.
It wasn’t until I saw on Facebook, an advert for a beautiful painting (the one shared in the thumbnail for this blog) by the amazing artist Lucy Campbell, that I suddenly found the words for the feelings I was having but couldn’t understand. Why did I feel so much grief and sadness for something I was in some respects so desperate for. Why was the sadness not just about him leaving, but about something deeper and more raw? Her painting and her words explained it all to me. Sometimes when emotions are so strong, we need others to help us find our way through them, put words to them, unwind the knots we are in. I have asked Lucy if I may share both her painting and her words with you.
‘While I was consumed with the task of putting all my pieces back together, my chicks have grown, and nearly flown, my nest almost empty; my life, body and soul finally beginning to feel whole, but the satisfaction is bittersweet – wishing I could have been in this state of wholeness while my chicks were little, so that they might have felt the full-bodied joy and confident of a mother in the right relationship with herself.
The fragile Origami birds on delicate golden threads suggest the echoes of the tiny people every mother has to be at peace with letting go of, as they grow and each new version of their little beings means the loss of a previous stage. We all enter into motherhood unfinished articles; the ways in which we are compelled to step up for our children, to be better people, to make peace with ourselves, is what makes being a mother such a transformative experience. ‘
This summed up how I felt, so I bought it. The irony of that, is that my children had banned me from buying things on Facebook (rightly so after a few disastrous purchases), but now I live alone, they won’t ever know…
Artwork and words:
Do check out Lucy’s stunning work
Lucy Campbell – www.lupiart.com
https://www.instagram.com/lucy_campbell_art/