Well the nail holes in the trim boards have just been filled. So I’m hoping to get the washing machine hooked up in two days.
Lest I give the impression that my life has become just a bowl of cherries, an emotional residual energy is messing with my mind. Waking up in the night and in the morning with something dredging up the hopeful turned mournful fantasies I had a couple years ago when both my daughters decided to move to the same city. I entertained visions of visiting the city and spending a day with each of them and very likely getting together for some time with all three of us. I had small dreams, nothing spectacular by city standards, just the opportunity for some co mingling.
That was the seed for a lesson in what makes reunion so ~ um, challenging. We three did have two opportunities to sit down all together. The first fueled my fantasies with even more hope despite the anxiety and my blundering emotions and words. A short time later I learned my blunders were more than faux pas. They were devastating and undermining and we were not going to try that again right away. It took nearly 18 mo. for me to re group and try again. That second time I got a clearer message. Quit trying so hard. Quit pushing. Just quit it. I came away telling myself I am not going to do that again. I didn’t know yet exactly what I had done. I did know it wasn’t working for anyone though. Not that there weren’t some sweet moments and tender sharing.
Overall I understood I had pushed too hard. I had tried to overlook / skip over/ the faulty foundation the three of us had. There wasn’t adequate resilience. So I’ve been studying myself, my daughters, our situations and life. I’ve been building my resilience. I’ve been using tips, techniques, friends, peers and everything that comes my way to learn and grow and turn to loving no matter what. Sleep is one of my best friends. I like to “sleep on it” when I get upset or defensive too. So often that really helps.
But lately this nagging depression sneaks in even when I’m sleeping. So I have to wake up and purposefully redirect myself. I acknowledge that DD, my firstborn, got screwed. Her experience of me is that I have been wantonly reckless with her well being. That is our foundation. Trying to make light of my fragile emotional state instead of easing things, hurt her even more.
Teaching elementary school I was frequently astonished at how easy my raised kids were to raise. I looked at what my students parents were facing and felt lucky. I must admit during Buster and Ezzy’s teen years their teachers didn’t always agree with my assessment. But as an educator I have the luxury of questioning the system and knowing it too well. I used to privately compare my raised kids to memories of me as a kid~ again I’m lucky.
Looking back I am still grateful I did have an easy time with the younger ones. And I pray for the strength to grow into reunion.
This summer my youngest is moving across the country, to a bigger and even more expensive city. The remnants of my dreams of family reunion blossoming are breaking through ~ testing my resolve and mettle. I look at them as more material. More stuff. More information telling me to let go of fantasy or what I thought and hoped could be in favor of working with current reality. The tender resistance tugs me awake to say goodbye and hello. I’m going to the city in a month, to help her move. That’s what woke up the remaining dreams. It looks like it’ll be the last time I’ll be up there for a while.
We’ll go on, the three of us. My fantasies and plans adjust. The separateness sits a little more solidly now.