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Aug 11 2012

The benefits of life after 40…I’m getting to it. Cut me some Slack!

This isn’t the post about the benefits of life after 40. I’m getting to it. I really am.

It’s just that this morning I feel like I’m going to hurl, spew, gag, expel contents of my stomach across the room; the butterflies in there are feeling nervous too.

My daughter leaves today.

I’m fighting jealousy of the mothers whose children get to stay here; the ones whose children have decent jobs and live in a cute little house on the other side of town.  I’m jealous of the ones whose children drop by on a Saturday morning and ask you to go shopping.  I’m jealous of the ones whose children have settled here with their own families and gather every Sunday morning for breakfast or come by in the late afternoon for a visit and a huge feast of a dinner.

Is that wrong?

I know jealousy is not the way to go. I’ll have to find some other coping strategy that is healthier.

The vac packing helped to reduce the anxiety. This was a fairly decent tool to get through a short term crisis with out of control, I’m going to miss you too much, I don’t want you to go, emotions.

My daughter read the post yesterday and demanded that I write a disclaimer, so here it is:

While at first I thought my daughter was silly with all of the vac packing, I must admit that watching a pile of clothes convert to something one could carry around in your pocket was intriguing. The concept is brilliant. The experience is most pleasurable. This is probably one of the best inventions that man created. The ease of using your own home vacuüm to simplify your life and make travel and storage easier is by far the most thrilling thing I have done in weeks.

So…now that my entire summer wardrobe have all been snugly condensed into a 2” x 1 ½” rectangle with a height of  2 ½ “,  I am hoping for chillier August temperatures with a slight chance of flurries, since I have nothing to wear except some cardigan sweaters and fleece jogging pants.

It was a tough day and the vac packing got out of control. The important thing was, we held it together.

I’m getting some great advice from people about what a great experience this will be for my daughter. I’m reminded how well my son did when he left home. I’m told if they were younger, they would do it too. They say it’s the best thing in the world. I ask them where their children are living, how far away they had to move. They tell me that their children live here in the city; in fact, they are heading over to their son’s house now to see the grandchildren.  

They have lost their credibility.

I kind of want to kick them.

Is that wrong?

I’m not angry. I’m just terribly disappointed at the state of the economy.

Well…I’m a little angry and if I could find the source of the state of the economy, where he or she lives, well… I’d definitely send an angry letter; demand an explanation and a change in behaviour. I’d be tempted to bully them into submission or start a small revolt. I might even throw a few tomatoes at the house.

I know! That’s wrong.

I guess I’ll just do what I normally do to cope with the crazy external events that happen in life.

I’ve got some projects lined up. As I was sobbing yesterday, I noticed the calendar on the wall behind my daughter’s shoulder; there was a wee bit of green in the illustration. It was a very pale, grey green. At least I think it was, it was slightly blurred and possibly distorted by my tears.   I think I will paint the upper half of the wall this colour in the bathroom. It will look pretty against the lower half of the bead board wall.

A little distraction and some calming activity will help.

I play mental mind games. I remind my daughter and myself that she’s not going to be gone that long. Christmas isn’t that far off. In fact, we only have to have 14 Sunday night sleeps until she plans her trip home.  Then we switch things up to elongate her visit home in our minds. When she comes home she’ll be visiting for almost a month. (It’s actually close to three weeks which I round-up to the month because it’s closer to that marker).

It might be a little denial, but it just feels so right!

I remind myself that this is her life. It’s not about me.

That doesn’t seem right!

But it’s the truth. She’s not leaving something; she’s flying to something, her life. Just like my son did.

That’s what the whole purpose of raising my children to be strong and confident and to follow their dreams was all about. It was about giving them the skills so that they could do better, are smarter, reach higher than their parents did.

There’s nothing wrong about that.  In fact, it’s completely right!

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2 comments

  1. Cindy

    Oh, I love your posts! Thank you for this! ~just a couple weeks away from moving one son to graduate school in a new city; the other back to school & I’m already weepy. I’m not a happy “empty-nester” at all! (and I can’t think of anything that needs painting…guess I better buy a vac pac for the summer clothes).

    1. Constance Stewart Meloche

      I’m totally with you on this one.
      As far as painting goes, nothing really needs painting, I only paint the house to help distract me from stress- The square footage has been reduced by at least a few feet. I think some rooms have got to have about 12 different coats. Maybe I should move before I paint myself into a corner- literally!

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