Lesbian log twenty-five-zero-two-twenty-one
Why is it that following the path of your truth often leads to immeasurable hardship? Why must growth equal challenge and pain?
I’ve been asking myself this over and over again lately.
I’m sure there are instances where growing out of an old skin evolves smoothly, with merely a slight tug of discomfort as the old layers finally fall away, adding to the dust motes in the air. But often, as has certainly been my experience of late, it is more of a tearing and ripping sensation. The process is akin to an alien bursting through your chest and splitting you apart from the inside out.
I know I’ve mentioned this before…. My family unit was strong. We were close. My ex and I were of one mind when it came to parenting, when it came to forging a path ahead in life.
Things have changed.
In the days of Kimye and Brangelina, often when partners cohabitate and coparent, there’s a melding of views and perspectives. Many relationships grow into an amorphous unit with both people merging into the whole, often losing a bit of themselves in the process. But when a couple separates, there is often a learning curve, a discovering of who we are separate of the other person. Like The Runaway Bride taught us, we have to figure how we like our eggs, not how we used to eat our eggs—perhaps out of convenience or consideration of others, or to just keep the peace. We need to figure out who we are now and/or again. What do we want? What do we like? Dislike? What are our singular goals and dreams? It’s a necessary process toward growth and healing and, like the ripping and tearing sensation mentioned early, the process doesn’t always go smoothly.
My ex and I still love and care for each other, and we each carry a tremendous amount of respect for the other person, as well as a mutual desire to continue to foster amicable and genuine collaboration, but that’s not always easy. In an effort to grow apart there can be sharper edges and shorter fuses.
As our separation has chugged along, it has become quite apparent that my ex and I have very different parenting styles. The overarching rules of engagement now depend upon where the children are staying that particular week. The parental loci determines the lay of the land. This has far-reaching consequences, as kids are savvy and recognize how to play the system quite quickly.
Previously, one of my sons had fallen in with the wrong crowd. Looking for his tribe, he put himself in dangerous situations in his efforts to seek validation and belonging. This has caused him incredible hardship. By moving, I had hoped some of that influence would be resolved, and fortunately it has. But, as is want to happen in life, there are often new peer groups and new situations that surface, which seem to draw us back into old patterns of behaviour. He’s found a new group of friends, and this group seems better (at least as far as being genuine in their acceptance of him) but they offer an alternative lifestyle that, as a mom, I’m not overly fond of. A bit too much partying, a bit too much drinking and the like.
Both my ex and I have parenting styles that involve sitting down with our kids and talking things through. We’ve always been united on that front and have always had an easy conversational approach to childrearing.
But in addition to trying to steer my children away from questionable behaviour or slippery slopes, using logic and reason in my persuasive appeals (even while recognizing that the likelihood of my words having an impact on a headstrong young man are mediocre at best), my parenting style also involves setting boundaries and expectations. I can be tough. I also consider their mental health and any mental illness that has impacted their lives over years, and I try to analyze where the behaviour might be coming from and whether this is innocent disinhibition—basically just wanting to have fun and be free—or if there is a pattern in their actions that could be precipitated by struggles current and ongoing.
My ex’s style is to also present his views on their current life choices, but in the end, he gives them the freedom to make their own choices—and subsequent falls—in life. Their consequences are the natural outcomes of their actions.
Both approaches and philosophies are incredibly valuable and when we lived together and parented together, both views were adopted and melded into a cohesive strategy. Lately, I’ve been feeling as if my views, my contributions are not being heard or valued. There is now a sense of impatience, that perhaps I’m overreacting, or being overly restrictive. For the record, I’ll totally admit to being a helicopter mom, but I do have my reasons. And my perspective is still valid.
Most young adults will make their own decisions and follow their own path, even if we, as the elders, see the warning signs ahead, red flags a-wavin.’ It’s incredibly frustrating to know as a parent, we can advise and guide and reason, but in the end, their choices (and subsequent successes and falters) are their own, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. But I don’t have to pretend I’m OK with poor decisions.
When I see poor decision making, my tone is laced with concern and disapproval—not of my children—but of their choices and the consequences those choices may have on their future.
When my ex metes out judgement, he is more accepting of ‘what will be will be,’ and that gives our kids a great deal of freedom, something they are quite happy with.
Both approaches allow our kids to act, succeed, fall and learn. But one has a distinct hint of admonishment and restriction. Kids however don’t want to be around admonishment, and they definitely don’t want restrictions. Especially not when they have the choice of a freer experience and environment. I feel as if I’m losing my connection with them, that they don’t want to be around the ‘drag’ parent and would rather hangout at the frat house (my ex’s house has poop emoji toilet plungers). It’s more fun at dad’s. There is less restrictions and boundaries. There are less expectations to account for whereabouts and time returned back home.
I suspect these feelings are part of the flying-the-coup phase of life, where I have to learn to let it and them go. Gone are the days of having any influence on their actions. One can only hope that all the morality and ethics and common sense we tried to impart on them growing up is in there somewhere and will rear its head when its needed most.
I’ve lost my connection. I’ve lost my family and I feel as if I’m losing my value as a parent—as someone who has always had something to offer and contribute to my children’s lives.
I may be overreacting, and I may be way off base, interpreting signs and words and actions through a lens that only sees the disconnect that my path forward has created.
All I know is, I currently have the distinct impression that by following my truth, I’m losing parts of my world that I so deeply value. And I’m not sure how to make my peace with that.
In gratitude,
Marissa xo