I knew that sending my boys back to Ohio for 5 weeks was something that they both desperately wanted and needed, but I was nervous about sending them away from our home for that long. Over the years since we began moving around from what they consider home (which is Ohio) they have both wavered in how much they have wanted to move back. Some months they both have said that they are okay (as long as we can move within driving distance) with being on this adventure and seeing where the jobs take us. Other months they are adamant about moving back to Ohio. One of my sons over the course of living in Portland has become almost desperate to move back. I was so afraid that I would lose them when I put them on a plane and allowed them the opportunity to be away from our home. I was afraid that he would reject everything that we (Bob and I) have instilled in him and instead pick up the patterns and behaviors of so many of his peers. I was afraid that this alternative lifestyle that we live would become too much for him and he would no longer want to be a part of it instead choosing the lure of mainstream society with all of its allure. But I knew deep down that I had to send him. I had to let him figure some stuff out and to do so on his own without my guidance or support. Even if this meant that his findings would hurt me in the end.
I did not hear much from either of my boys during their 5 weeks 2400 miles away from us. For one of my sons this was a blessing as he needed the opportunity to spread his wings and see that he can be independent from Bob and I, and that he can flourish on his own. He needed this trip to build his self-confidence up. And it worked. He came home with his head held high and newfound sense of confidence that I was not sure I would ever see him possess.
The lack of communication from my other son worried me. I knew that he felt lost here and that he was struggling to find his identity. I was afraid that his lack of communication with Bob or me was a sign that whatever he was figuring out on his own did not include our family. The little communication I did have with him seemed to confirm these thoughts. My worst fears about sending him to Ohio were coming true and I felt sick to my stomach about it.
Once he came home stories started coming out of him a little bit here and little bit there. I was thankful that he still felt like he was able to talk to me. I knew that even if the stories and thoughts he was sharing with me bothered me that at least he hadn't closed me out entirely. At least he felt that he could communicate with me on his own terms and in his own time. I tried my best to remain neutral and to really make sure that my responses to things didn't scare him away from wanting to be open with me in any future conversations.
I was worried though. I felt like I didn't know my own kid anymore. The things he was sharing made me feel like the young man who had been living in my home had somehow died and a new person had replaced him. He felt like a stranger. It hurt like hell.
And then words were spoken between us on our camping trip that broke me open in a way no child of mine has ever hurt me. The hurt was so bad that my heart ached. I felt I had no business being a mother to any of my children let alone him.
But as I sat alone in the woods near our campsite alone with my thoughts I knew that what my son had said to me was not said to hurt me. He wasn't being mean or spiteful. He was sharing his heart with me in the only way his teenage self knew how. The words came out sloppy and complicated, but every word was true. And this is why it hurt so much.
It is hard to take in constructive criticism when you put your whole heart into something like I have in mothering these four kids of mine. Between homeschooling them and being a stay at home mom and our conservative parenting style I have a lot of eggs in one basket. To think that I am doing things "right" and then to have one of my children tell me that I am actually doing them all wrong for his/her personality is really hard to hear. To think that something might be broken and then to hear a child confirm that brokenness is a bitter pill to swallow.
I am so thankful that my mom was with us during this camping trip because she was able to help bridge some of the distance between my son and I after his words were spoken. She was able to see things and point out things to me that I would not have been able to see on my own because I was too blinded by my pain to see beyond that.
I am a perfectionist by nature and when things aren't perfect I have a habit to quit them. If I cannot do it perfectly then I don't want to do it at all. But the thing about being a parent is that I am almost never perfect at it and I cannot quit being my kids' mother. This makes it all the harder for me to stick with it when the going gets tough because I want to run from them until the hard part is over and I can be the perfect mother again with the perfect children. To stand in the fire and feel its heat and allow it to burn me from time to time is so hard for me to do. But I cannot quit these kids. I cannot quit my son. Even when it hurts.
But here's the thing: I know my son. I must remember that. Even when I think he is a stranger to me. Even when I feel more distant from him than I have ever felt in our whole time together as mother and son. I know that he is going through a hard time right now. And I know that he is struggling to find his way. And I know that other lifestyles look enticing and shiny. I know that the grass seems the perfect shade of green in Ohio. But it isn't. And I know that as he grows he might push himself further and further away. Or...he might not.
Sometimes allowing a child the ability to fly means taking the risk that he might not come back to you. But sometimes granting a child the ability to fly means taking the risk, thinking he might not come back, and having him come back knowing for sure that you are his home. That is what I have allowed my son to do in sending him away for 5 weeks to be where his heart desired and it has been the hardest thing I have ever gone through with either of my boys.
What I need to do for my son right now is to stand tall and strong. To allow him to explore his feelings and share his heart with me even when it hurts. To give him the space he needs to grow while providing a safe place for him to land. My job is to remain steadfast and to know that even though this boy living in my home may seem like a stranger underneath at his core he is still the same young man who left my house 6 weeks ago. My job is to gently remind him who he is when he feels lost and confused. My job is to show him that while he may bend our bond he will never break it. (Just as I have the power to also bend our bond as is the case in any relationship.) My job is to continue to show him the way of our family because he was placed in it for a reason. My job is to be his mother, as imperfect as I am, without giving up on him (as imperfect as he is) and without running away from him.
Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
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