It’s okay to show emotions when your kid leaves for college. No, really.
Our oldest left a week ago. I think I’m okay, and then I see the cup of water he left on his bedside table like he just stepped out for the day because I didn’t have the heart to touch his room. Or the four of us sit differently at the dinner table now so that his space isn’t empty. We took a walk last evening, and I almost asked on return, “Hey, where’s Aiden’s car?” We’re adjusting, just like he is.
When a friend asked me how I was doing last Wednesday, I told her I rage-cleaned the house and had no idea why. She asked if I did it to Taylor’s “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart.” The lyrics comically apply to this slowest, most prolonged breakup that I’ve ever experienced.
I’m so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plagueI cry a lot but I am so productive, it’s an artYou know you’re good when you can even do itWith a broken heart
Yes, this does feel super dramatic in retrospect. But also, it’s currently my jam.
I’m seeing way too many posts on Facebook and various other socials that say things like, “I held it together.” or “I didn’t cry at all!” as if we’re supposed to assign medals of honor to those who have the strongest willpower. I also see people telling others to “Just get over it.” Excuse me, what? It’s the Mount Everest of emotions, and apparently, we’re all quietly assigning scores to everyone by how far they’ve made it up the mountain. Last I checked, there are still some bodies up there, and there are no jewels in the proverbial crown for the emotionally detached.
I get it. Our society truly values the restraint of emotions. It’s a bit antiquated, though, and the idea of being vulnerable terrifies most people. {Thanks, I hate it.}
Tears help regulate your body’s parasympathetic nervous system. Crying can help you return to a state of balance. I know, right? Science.
But this isn’t just about crying at drop-off. It’s multifaceted. With my first kiddo ever, it’s been a year of processing. The journey one really experiences, from their kiddo’s first college visits {in a constant state of feeling overwhelmed whilst drinking from a fire hose} and those senior portraits to that final hug goodbye and adjusting to life without them at home. I wasn’t ready, but it was time. I find it comforting that the parents, who are a step or two ahead of me in this, keep reminding me that it gets easier with each kiddo. But everything was new this year, and the last eighteen years of my life have absolutely flown by… it’s kind of a big deal.
I run into moms in the wild experiencing the same phase of life, and we all cast knowing glances, saying we’re “okay” when someone asks. Because it’s easier just to ignore our feelings, and we’d look stupid to say we’re not. No one wants to feel like an emotional burden. One friend has now helped me process all this at all the stages. I’m actually equal parts mortified and grateful she’s been with me on this journey as a solid sounding board. Sometimes, you need someone to affirm your feelings and tell you you’re not, in fact, a raving lunatic. I genuinely look forward to being the same person for her when it’s her turn, though she’ll undoubtedly have it more together than me. And my endless comfort has been the other moms in the same phase, who are honest about where they are, too.
So, there are still some vestiges of society circa 1950-something where restraint was hailed above all, and therefore, we’re not allowed to show emotions. It’s trickled down generationally and still here like an odd side effect of a rampant lack of self-awareness. We’ve evolved in so many ways, yet we get all tangled up in the art of projecting. So those “I didn’t cry” statuses seemingly quantify our value in some odd way. Feelings are okay. Maybe not the kind where you’re clinging to their ankle like a needy koala while they try to walk away, but feelings are, dare I say it, important.
I cried a little when we said goodbye. But here’s what my emotions looked like on the first week because this whole starting-a-new-chapter thing {just like this entire past year} is a process:
On Saturday, when we arrived home after days of organization, packing, and planning before the actual move-in day, which was a marathon, paired with insomnia and emotional exhaustion, all whilst talking through his feelings, alongside his siblings’ feelings, my range of emotions didn’t exist beyond general obliteration. On Sunday, it was the same. On Monday, I slid into grumpiness and then spiraled with a rage I did not anticipate because, of course as fate would have it, leaving my first in college aligned perfectly with my perimenopausal cycle. {Yep, I’m no longer denying that one. Wheeeee.} Anger is a secondary emotion trying to tell us something else. Starting a new chapter, I wasn’t quite ready for {and never would be} has a way of bringing up the things I may have struggled to process in my past.
On Tuesday, I hopped on our new Pelaton {it’s a rental – y’all should try it}, but instead of doing a beginner workout, I was all, ‘yeah, I can handle this,’ and almost died in thirty minutes because I decided to be extra and take an advanced class. No, really. I think I exercised some demons because I cried and felt that post-workout high I desperately needed. It still freaks me out that those shoes clip in, and I think someone needs to do a wellness check every time I hop on because I might pass out and just keep going like some weird muppet situation. No, really, how does it work? Do I break my legs in a weird slump, or….?
On Wednesday, I walked with a good friend who helped me process my feelings about feelings. Then I cleaned, organized, gardened, cut fresh flowers, did laundry, and finally felt like our house felt better, which is ultimately therapeutic.
I would say this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s not. So perspective helps and the clouds are clearing, and as of last Thursday, I felt like maybe we’re all settling into a new normal. I like to look at his class schedule and wonder what he’s up to since those response texts are riddled with “good” and “sure,” but this was the ultimate goal, after all. I’ll just be waiting patiently until he has time to call us again. I repeatedly check life 360 to make sure he makes it back to his dorm safely. I follow all the relevant social media accounts, hoping to get a peek of him. In the end, I’ve become the covert, needy stalker ex, and he’s just not that into me. I guess calling and then hanging up is next? Kidding.
He’s living his best life. We’re just adjusting to it all. So when someone asks me what it’s like or how I’m doing, I can’t wrap it up in one neat package, ready to go, because these feelings definitely color outside the lines and are different for everyone. For some people, experiencing your firstborn leaving the nest for the first time is likened to the grief cycle, and yet no one talks about that. That means we’ll experience many complicated emotions. And that’s okay. It’s truly the end of an era, but hopefully, the beginning of something even better.
So, I’m sharing this for someone who’s just beginning this journey. Or for anyone wondering what it’s like in this new chapter. Having your child leave the nest is a process, and your emotions will be, too. The good news is, you don’t have to endlessly silver-line yourself or hide in a shame corner with your loin cloth and ashes until you feel better because someone told you {no worries, they’re definitely dead inside and need therapy} to “just get over it.” Give yourself space and permission to feel it. And then go rage clean, jump on that new workout you wanted to try without dying, or take up a new hobby, and embrace the new normal. It’s the perfect time to channel all that into something positive, after all. Even if “channeling something positive” feels like that Ghostbusters scene the first time they tried on those proton packs.
Just know that you’re not alone. Cheers to a fantastic year, everyone. It’s okay to show emotions when your kid leaves for college.
Really.
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