Tag: empty nest

Brows

The other day, I had an appointment in a part of town I don’t normally spend time in, but I needed some groceries, so I went to the chain grocery store in the nearby strip mall, and then the multi-tasking part of my brain kicked in, and me, knowing that I’ve needed my eyebrows waxed for weeks (okay, if I’m honest here, a lot of parts of my face needed waxing. In fact, lately, my face actually feels like it’s falling off of my face, like off of a cliff. Therefore, waxing my entire face seemed like a good idea to give it any kind of hair-free lift I can get. At least in my mind . . . ) On a whim, I decided to enter a nail salon, like you find in every strip mall that has a major grocery chain store it, and I asked them if they do waxing, so I could get yet another thing checked off of my list. A woman took me right back to their little waxing room in the back of the store.

I had never been to this particular salon, nor had this particular practioner ever done my waxing, so I started in with my emphatic lecture that I give every waxing professional I go to, about how I love my hairy caterpillar eyebrows and I want to keep them as thick as possible, and please err on the side of thick, heavy Brooke Shields, even Frieda Keilo eyebrows, yada, yada, yada, yada . . . .

“Yes, yes, just clean them up,” she nodded, clearly having heard these particular instructions from many clients in the past.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a chuckle. “Can you tell I have PTSD?” I said this off-handedly, thinking back to a time in my thirties when I just started getting my eyebrows waxed, and clearly my waxer, had just started waxing the art of waxing herself, and I lost half of one of my eyebrows. (and that was back at a time that I could count on my facial hairs growing back, in the right places)

My waxer did one of those half smiles that did not mask some deep pain. “Oh, I know PTSD,” she said. “My ex had PTSD from being in wars. He would wake me up every night, yelling and screaming. He kept two guns in the night stand.”

“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry. I was wrong to use ‘PTSD’ so lightly,” and I could feel my face turning red, not from the waxing, but from shame. And then the vain, self-centered part of me, started panicking, thinking that this practioner might just wax off half of one of my eyebrows to teach me a well-deserved lesson.

But of course, she didn’t. My waxer was lovely. She did a great job with my waxing, and she even did a sort of facial massage that felt absolutely wonderful. Clearly, my waxing practioner was a pro at what she does. And also, clearly she knows a hell of a lot more about PTSD than I ever have known.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday Got Me Good

“How alive your heart to feel such sorrow!” – from Catherine Newman’s bestselling book, Sandwich

So last month, I was out to lunch with two friends and our one friend gave each of us a different book that she had finished reading. She told us to read them and then to swap them. So the other day, my generous book-giving friend mentioned in a casual text to me that our other friend had finished her book. I hadn’t even started mine. So, in a frenzied mix of competiveness and a dutiful sense of consideration, I finished my book, front to back, all on Monday. That book was Sandwich by Catherine Newman, and it was essentially a heart-bearing, brutally honest account of a woman in the exact stage of life me and my friends are in – empty nest, menopause, having the people whom we love on both ends of our lives, slowly and methodically fading out of our lives, in different ways. Being in the “sandwich” stage of life, our adult children are moving out and on, and our elders are slowing, aging and sometimes even passing on. Newman mentioned something about us being at a “fulcrum” stage of our lives. Sandwich was a great, relatable read, mostly in how it touched on the big emotions and the almost feeling of disbelief, which this stage of our lives brings to the table. For me, the book was mainly a reflection of the poignancy of life and the beauty of love and living fully. Here is my favorite excerpt from the book:

“Here’s what foragers know: Most of what grows is neither delicious nor toxic. There’s a whole world between what we call the choice edibles- the hazelnuts and porcini and black raspberries- and say, the destroying angel mushrooms that will shut down all your organ systems after a single nibble. You can eat the grass, the lichen, and the inner bark of most trees, a thousand kinds of leaves. Not that you would, but you could. So much of privileged adulthood seems to take place here, in the space between the soaring highs and the killing disasters. It’s just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subtlety, its decency and dailiness.”

So after finishing the book, I felt a little more fragile than usual. My feelings were closer to the surface and at that moment, I remembered that I had to get six pictures of various stages of my middle son’s life to his future mother-in-law for their upcoming wedding shower. That entailed me and my husband opening up one of two enormous plastic tubs, with dusty lids, in the garage, full of photographs. Photos I haven’t viewed in years. Photos full of my children in baby clothes, and sports uniforms, and prom attire and cuddling with various pets. Photos full of vacations taken, birthdays celebrated, and sweet everyday moments which we were lucky enough to catch on camera, because something deep in us, wanting a sweet token of that simple moment for posterity. The box was full of pictures of people who are still in our lives at all different stages of their lives, and also of people who, for various reasons, are no longer in our lives. There were literally piles and piles of pictures of the life of our family, at every single stage of it. And so yeah, Monday got to me. Monday got me good.

Besides nostaglia, and meloncholy, and wishing that certain things had turned out differently, but also primarily feeling awe and gratefulness for how well most of those “raising the kids” years had gone, I also sensed myself feeling deep compassion for young mother me in all of those pictures. She was much prettier and thinner and obviously more engaged and earnest than I ever gave her credit for being. I was so damn tough on her a lot of the times. I wish I could reach back in time and offer her a glimpse of the grace I feel for her now. I guess the best thing I can do, is offer up that same grace to myself, now, in this meaningful stage of my life, so that when I am elderly and peering through the stacks (or reels) of photos and mementos, I can recognize myself as exactly who I am – a faithful forager, doing my best to enjoy and to savor my “just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subltety, its decency and dailiness.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Frislands (or Islands of Friday)

I recently read about a theory created by psychologist Pauline Boss, that states when going through times of big changes, loss or upheaval in anyone’s life, we need “islands of certainty.” These are stable, familiar entities that give us a sense of normalcy which we can “cling to” while moving through change. Boss puts these islands of certainty into four main categories (conveniently they all start with the letter “p”) : People, Practices, Places and Possessions

What people (and/or pets), rituals, regular haunts, and most treasured things give you a sense of comfort and stabilty? It is suggested to write a list of these precious parts of your life and update it regularly, so that when changes or surprises inevitably occur at different times, you have something to refer to, and to remind you of what and where you have to turn to, for comfort, for a sense of normalcy and certainty.

****And for old times’ sake (reminscent of my regular Favorite Things Friday posts of the past), I am going to add a new favorite of mine. I read that plastic jelly shoes were making a comeback this summer and I thought, “Not for me!” The first time jelly shoes came around in my lifetime, they were made of stiff, sharp edged plastic that inevitably created miserable blisters on my feet. Also, the jelly shoes’ colors would fade fast or inevitably get ugly marks on them. But alas, recently I got suckered into buying a new pair of tortoiseshell jelly ballet flats made by CUSHIONAIRE (I bought mine from Amazon), because an article in the New York Times insisted these were not the jelly shoes of yesteryear. And they were right! I love my Cushionaire jelly ballet flats! They are soft, stretchy, comfortable and they have an amazing cushiony sole. I wore my tortoiseshell jelly flats all day yesterday with a breezy pair of linen pants, and I felt cool and comfortable and fashionable, even as I was melting away in the hot air of summer. Happy Friday, friends. Friday will always be one of my Islands of Certainty!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Temperature Rising

I recently heard the term “human emotional thermometer.” This label means that you are the type of person who is continually taking the temperature of everyone else’s moods and then treating those moods of other people, as if they are your responsibility to fix/change/manage. Many of us women fall into this category. And while we are often very good at testing and managing other people’s emotions, our internal emotional thermometers are often broken when it comes to measuring our own emotions, and what personal needs those emotions are trying to guide us to fulfilling. As in touch as we are with the zeitgeist of the room, we are often entirely out of touch with our own internal feelings.

Are you a human emotional thermometer? Do you need to change the settings from “external” to “internal”? When we become more attuned to our own feelings and moods and thus start taking care of our own needs which these emotions and feelings point to, we actually embark on healthier, mutual relationships. When we can rely on ourselves to understand and to communicate and to fulfill our own needs, we can relax into the idea that others are capable of doing the same thing for themselves. The reality is that most others probably do not want to be “managed” by us, anyway. Finally, when we trust ourselves to keep our own temperature at normal, we stop expecting others to magically do it for us.

“Be a thermostat, not a thermometer.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Think of your moods as a thermometer that takes the temperature of your life.” – Robert Biswas-Diener

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Birthday Reflections

Happy Birthday, USA! I was here for our bicentennial. I was five years old. I clearly remember all of the hoopla and all of the “schlock”. I read yesterday about a professor who created a large curation and collection of 1976 bicentennial “schlock”. (there was even a red/white/blue condom which referenced fireworks) He later donated the collection to one of the Ivy League universities, believing it carries important insight into our American culture. As I was reading the article, it occurred to me that this 250th celebration doesn’t seem quite as “in your face” as the 1976 one did. Now this could be because in 1976 I was a young child and everything seems bigger and more incredible when you are little, but I don’t think that is the reason. This year’s July 4th celebrations (other than in our nation’s capital) seem relatively subdued considering the milestone we have reached. But that’s okay. Because, honestly, we’ve gotten something much better than an overload of tacky red, white and blue crap. In a time period, when everyone is weary of divisiveness and politics and fearmongering, we got hundreds of thousands of visitors from all over the world, many with fresh eyes to our country, having never been here before, being perfectly astounded and amazed by what our people and our country have to offer: enormous portions of food and drink, gorgeous nature that goes on and on, friendly, kind people who want to make you feel welcome, air conditioning everywhere and running strong, sunshine, cultures within cultures, can-do optimism, giant trucks and cars, huge arenas and venues . . . . the list goes on and on and on. I keep watching the reels of excited visitors, as my eyes get misty. I’ve always been proud and utterly grateful to be an American, but this surprising reminder from foreigners of the many, many reasons why we are so lucky to be Americans is the best birthday present the USA could ask for – thank you, World Cup!

It also occurred to me yesterday that I will be lucky to reach the USA’s tricentennial. (I am going to have to cut down on my American large portions, if I even want a shot at it) I probably won’t be around to celebrate it, but America will. I have no doubts and the United States will be stronger, and more clear-visioned and more inspirational to the entire world than it ever has been before.

I follow a writer, who is sort of “new age” named Tam Veilleux. I was honestly a little surprised and totally delighted by how she closed out her most recent newsletter. These are her words (I couldn’t agree more nor say it better myself):

“Lastly, because this hits my heart so loudly: Happy Birthday, America. I’m wildly patriotic by nature. Maybe it’s the long line of family members who served in the military. Maybe it’s my deep appreciation for the revolutionary spirit of those who fought for freedom. Though we still have room to grow, I celebrate all that America is…its greatness and its growing pains. It’s home, and I love it deeply.

If you are an American reader, I hope this week finds you reconnecting with what you love about this country. And if you’re reading from elsewhere in the world, thank you for bearing witness to our growing pains and holding space for us as we continue learning how to become better citizens of Earth.

Sending big love and even bigger fireworks!“

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Randomness and Magic

I read a fascinating letter earlier this week, written by Jack Antonoff, who is the lead singer of the band Bleachers (one of their best known songs, and one of my personal favorites is I Wanna Get Better). Antonoff has written music with Taylor Swift and he is also a music producer. In his letter, Antonoff was basically blasting music creators who are using AI to create. Here are some excerpts for the letter:

“What we do has become an ancient ritual. . . . You don’t have to write music, you don’t have to record it and you don’t have to bring out the band and play it. And yet for us, the idea of optimizing what we do is a complete miss of the entire point of what compels us in the first place. We (myself, the band and everyone I know, frankly) have never been looking for this work to become quicker or easier. We were never frustrated by the randomness and magic it takes. We do it for that exact reason — and without the process itself ::: nothingness.“

“So to everyone who is gassed up about the new ways you can fake making art, by all means, drive right off that cliff. We’re genuinely happy to see you go. . . .Generations coming will be engaging in the ancient ritual of writing, recording and performing as it comes to us from God.”

“So as we embark on this strange detour where the bad actors will willingly reveal themselves through slop, and the struggling great will be further spread thin to make an honest living doing what they were put on Earth to do, we (myself, the band and frankly everyone I know) remain more dedicated than ever to reveal what comes from within. Writing music, recording and performing it — that’s it. Nothing more embarrassing than considering there is a way to optimize that holy process.”

I don’t know where I stand on using AI in the creative process yet. I don’t feel as angry about it as Jack Antonoff seems to feel. Creating with AI is all still so new and continually forming and reforming. I remain curious and hopeful. (that being said, I never, ever use AI to write this blog and with all of my grammatical errors and run-on sentences and odd transitions, that’s probably obvious) However, I completely agree with Antonoff that the real joy in any creative pursuit is getting caught up in the flow of something bigger than yourself. Writing feels like transcribing downloads from an entirely different realm. Painting, sewing, playing music, woodworking, cooking . . . honestly, doing any creative pursuit often makes time feel like it’s stopped. Like most things in life, the true joy of any creation isn’t really the final product, it is the process of bringing the creation to life. As Antonoff puts it, it is the “revealing what comes from within . . .that holy process . . . as it comes to us from God.” And as he stated, this is an ancient ritual. Over the weekend, we went to an art museum which we had never been to before and again, I was mesmerized by the rooms and rooms of ancient art from all over the world, many of these pieces being centuries old. All of these pieces were made from the ancient ritual and holy process of revealing the downloads coming from within, or perhaps coming from God.

There is probably a place for AI creations. AI is really just a super fast conglomeration and reiteration of what humanity has already brought into the world anyway. But I truly do hope that we don’t let AI rob us of the sometimes painstaking, but beautiful, healing, cleansing, humane, revealing process of birthing our own creations into this world. If we are honest with ourselves, creating is really the point of living and experiencing life.

I started this blog on a complete lark in the summer of 2018 when my husband and I helped our eldest son unload his things into his new apartment, in his new city, for his first job out of college. In a sense, writing this blog saved me. It saved the creative part of me that perhaps I had let get a little dark for a while. Thank you for witnessing and being part of my creative process and my flow of thoughts and my emotions, as they came to me from within, as I transcribed them from something deep and yearning in my heart. It is not lost on me, that as I just helped my youngest child unload her things into her new apartment, in her new city, for her first job out of college, that I feel an intense need and yearning to come back to the blog to write. I have so much download, and Adulting – Second Half is my favorite place to put these downloads. Again, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. May we never lose the sanctity of the “randomness and magic” it takes to create.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

We’re Here

I’m back. This past weekend, we dropped our daughter, and our youngest adult child of our four adult children, in her new state, in her new apartment, with her new roommate, who seems less like a new friend, but more like a person our daughter must have known in a previous life. It seems as if they are ladies who have fondly known each other for months and months, not for just a few days. And this is such great relief for this mama’s heart!

So now, it’s here. We’re here. (I keep repeating this to my husband. “We’re here.” And my husband, being the more practical and less philosophical one out of the two of us, keeps looking at me quizzically, but thankfully he always kindly stops short of saying, “No sh$t, we’re here.”) This is the moment which I have been anticipating since our eldest son graduated from high school 12 years ago and started the whole launching pad experience for his three siblings behind him. Our four charges are all fully launched. And it is now time for me to launch into a whole new phase of my own life. It’s here. We’re here.

I’ve written this on the blog before, but it is a worthy reminder (and a mantra that I have to tell myself daily, and sometimes many times each day) – Worry does not equal love. Confidence equals love. Hope equals love. Faith equals love. Assurance equals love.

The time is here. My family and I are here at this whole new phase of the game. I always tell my kids that the best indicator of future success is past success, so I am confident, hopeful and full of faith and assurance that this next stage is going to be fantastic. It won’t always be easy. It won’t be without its stumbling blocks and its learning curves, but it will be amazing. This next stage of life, for all of us, will be amazing.

Yesterday, I read a quote by one of my favorite authors, Paulo Coelho. The quote is this: “You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it.” We humans are creatures of habits and these long habits can often create beliefs in us that can sometimes keep us submerged in places that we need to swim away from. We all occasionally fall into the rivers of unconscious rhythms, despair, ruts, confusion, and ennui from time to time. But if we take a moment to get calm and intentional, we can stop splashing around in worry, we can stop drowning in our feelings and false beliefs, and we can give ourselves the life jackets of confidence, hope, faith, assurance and love. We can stop fighting the current of our lives and instead choose to curiously float with it, to the next interesting destination, waiting right around the corner . . . . the best is yet to come! It is. And we’re here for it.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Retirement Blues

So many of our friends and contemporaries are now contemplating retirement and what that will look like. It comes up as a topic of discussion more than it ever has before. When we talk about it with each other, it is always with excitement and anticipation, and with relatively high expectations of smooth sailing, so I was surprised to read an article the other day that suggested that retirement statistically is a time when people report higher levels of depression than any other times in their lives. Supposedly, the highest chance of developing depression during retirement happens right when you first retire, and then another statistically high incidence of depression in retirement tends to occur after the 1-3 year honeymoon period of retirement is over.

The article cited the best ways to overcome these lost, lonely, sad feelings. First, it is important to still create some sort of reliable structure of your days. Next, keep regular (not sporadic) human contact, such as attending weekly club meetings or luncheons. Also, it is important to find some sort of broadly defined sense of purpose (some people help take care of their grandchildren and/or find an area of volunteering that marries their interests and expertise) and finally, be honest and open about your feelings and struggles about the changes retirement has brought to your life with trusted others. (The article stated that this seems to be particularly hard for a lot of men to do, but it is painful and sometimes even dangerous to struggle alone.) People tend to feel shock, shame and embarrassment when they experience depression in a time that they thought would be one of the happiest times of their lives. It helps to talk it out and realize you are not alone in your feelings.

As my regular readers know, I use Adulting – Second Half as a depository of thoughts, reflections and helpful information (mostly for myself, but it makes me happy that others also find it to be a helpful resource). Since my main job in my adult life was to run our household and to raise our four children, as we take our only daughter, and our youngest child and last to leave the nest, to her new home state next week, it occurred to me that I have finally reached my full retirement. I’ve been “easing” into retirement since our daughter left for college four years ago, but my retirement truly and fully starts for me, next month. As I am swirling in mixed emotions right now, I believe that I have my expectations in place. As it is often said about so many things these days, “It’s a process . . . .”

“Retirement is not the end of the road. It is the beginning of the open highway.” – Unknown

“Don’t simply retire from something; have something to retire to.” – Henry Emerson Fosdick

“The trouble with retirement is that you never get a day off.” – Abe Lemons

“There’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want.” – Bill Watterson

“Don’t act your age in retirement. Act like the inner young person you always have been.” – J. A. West

“My retirement plan is to get thrown into a minimum security prison in Hawaii.” – Julius Sharpe

“Retirement is wonderful. It’s doing nothing without worrying about getting caught.” – Gene Perret

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

First Time

Yesterday I read a delightful article that I had trepidations about reading at first. The article was about foreigners visiting the USA for the first time in order to experience the World Cup. It was a collection of social media posts about what their thoughts were about America, now seeing it for the first time. And although I didn’t know what the slant of the article would be at first, thankfully, this was a kind and thoughtful collection of posts. These first-time foreign visitors were thrilled with visiting all-American places like Taco Bell and Wal-Mart and Waffle House. (this reminded my daughter and I about when we were on a flight home from Europe one time, hearing two young European women talking excitedly about trying pancakes for the first time, immediately when they landed in the USA) Some of the posts were about how green and wide-open the visitors found America to be. One German man stated that the forests seemed to go on and on and on. The article’s point was about what a joy it is to get to experience these “first-timers” experiences along with them. It brought some magic back to our ordinary, everyday All-American things. Seeing others delight in what we often take for granted, is perfect timing, with our country’s 250th birthday right around the corner.

There is something so special about experiencing anything for the first time. This is why I am often wary of experiencing the same places or things more than once. The “next time” just never seems to hold the same excitement and awe as the first. You have to adjust your expectations to understand that familiar places, and things, and experiences will often not live up to the hype of your memories when you go to experience them again. However, the best remedy to this, is to bring someone with you, who’s never seen or experienced what you already have, and then delight in their own delight. When you get to look at what has become known or ordinary to you through the fresh eyes of someone else, the vicarious thrill and pride and remembrance is a feeling which is almost as good as any wonderful first-time experience. Their appreciation becomes a renewed appreciation in yourself. In this way, you sharing a special place or experience with a newcomer, becomes a gift to yourself, as well. No wonder why our kindergarten teachers knew that sharing was the most important lesson to impart to us, because sharing is a loving gift that lasts a lifetime for both the recipient and the sharer.

It is also true that excitement begets excitement. When I go somewhere that I have never been, I get giddy, like a kid in a candy store. And I can feel the locals attracted to my happiness and so they often go out of their way to make my experience as amazing as it can be. They have a renewed sense of honor and confidence about what they are offering in their corner of the world. It is my gift to them, to help them to feel this way again about “their stuff and their turf”, and it is their gift to me, to share the best that they have to offer.

It’s so easy to attack and look for the faults in anything. When I look at the list that some of the people visiting were excited about: Wal-Mart, Taco Bell, Waffle House – I can feel a sneer forming on my lips. But it’s not about the places. It’s about experiencing something new like you’ve never seen. It’s interesting to experience almost anything novel, even if you decide it’s not anything you would ever want to experience again.

I hope that we all offer the best that we have to our World Cup visitors. And I hope that they look for the best in us. It is a truth in life that you often see what you look for, and when you look at things with curiosity and enthusiasm and optimism, what you see and what you get, add up to amazing memories that last a lifetime, like the first time a delicious, steaming stack of pancakes was headed your way. And the only real way to experience that feeling again, is to watch someone happily dig into the first pile of pancakes which they have ever tried.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Gaping

Our only daughter, our youngest of four kids, and the last to leave the nest, takes off in about a couple of weeks, for a fabulous new job opportunity, in a state that is a two-day drive from us, in a whole different time-zone. Lately, my sweet friends and relations have been sending me texts, kindly asking me how I’m doing and how I’m feeling. My pat answer has been, “Doing well, just trying to soak her all in. Smiley emoji. Thumbs up emoji.” Perhaps I should go with the more truthful, modern answer, “I don’t know. It’s complicated.” But, I won’t. I don’t want anyone to try to poke at my carefully created shield. I’m still in “mother-mode.” I’ve got to be my daughter’s cool, calm, collected safety net. I’ve got to be that reassuring presence that tells her (and tells me) that everything is going to be okay. And it will be. I know this from the bottom of my heart, but still . . . How am I feeling about all of this?

I don’t know. It’s complicated. It’s a complicated mash of every feeling under the sun that I’m still trying to keep under the lid of my shield – a shield that protects others from a violent storm of emotion that would only inevitably be followed by that way too uncomfortable cloud of discomfort and cringe which just hangs in the air after any kind of explosion of passionate feelings, and also a shield that protects me from an intensity of feelings that I’m not ready to feel yet. I have so many feelings flying around, under the radar of my carefully crafted shield, that I have even witnessed myself having strong feelings about those feelings, all swirling around, all at the same time. And right along with this massive, swirling cone of conflicting emotions, I have an internal high and mighty judge and jury telling me which of these feelings are “correct” for me to have, and which of these feelings are “wrong” and “shameful.” Honestly, a statement that has always been hard for me to grapple with is “Both things can be true at the same time.” This is a hard concept for me. I like cut and dry. I like logic. I like “truth.” I get annoyed when people use the term “that’s my truth” too much. It seems like a cop-out to me. I like to believe that there are actually a fair amount of factual truths that just can’t be denied. And yet, when it comes to feelings, I’m having to come to terms with the idea that “eight million things can be true at the same time.” And that is the truth. And that’s okay.

How am I feeling about all of this – my youngest now really and truly embarking on her adulthood and moving far away from me, bookended by two of her brothers’ weddings, all in the span of a few short months?

Overwhelmed. Happy. Sad. Nostalgic. Relieved. Excited for them. Excited for me. Excited for my husband. Worried for them. Worried for me. Worried for my husband. Tired. Proud. Impressed with myself. Disappointed in myself. Hopeful. Out of sorts. Organized. Disorganized. Astounded. Needy. Ecstatic. Protective. Patient. Impatient. Grateful. Scared. Small. Big. Guilty. Enough. Not Enough. Supportive. Not wanting to be supportive. Listless. Astounded. Scattered. Lost. Found. Misdirected. Accomplished. Agitated. Confused. Insecure. Exhausted. Lonely. Craving solitude. Reflective. Empathetic. Energized. Fearful. Confident. Faithful. Old. Newly young. Free. Righteous. Curious. Doubtful. Even sometimes angry, and maybe even a little envious of all the new experiences that my children all have ahead of them. Open. Assured. Defensive. Questioning. But mostly, I feel gaping. I feel totally gaping with Love and Vulnerability. Gaping. Yep, I feel absolutely gaping wide.

How am I feeling about all of this change in my life? (shield goes up)

Thank you for asking. I’m good. I’m just trying to soak my daughter all up before she leaves. Smiley emoji. Thumbs up emoji.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.