New Anchor, New Rules

I like rules. Rules provide structure, they clearly mark lanes to safely stay within. (I also like to break rules, but that’s another post for another day.)

This new path I’m on looks nothing like the journey I thought I’d signed up for, which means I can’t possibly be held to the same rules I once held as truth—truth that, for so long, served as my anchor.

Today I feel sort of awash, like a cork bobbing atop the waves. And in the interest of letting myself feel each and every wave (because that’s what all the self-development folks tell you to do), I’ve allowed myself to dip my pinky toe into that lethal cocktail of self-criticism, self-judgement, and self-doubt, which leads to a swift swerve into the lane of what went wrong, which inevitably leads to what could go wrong, which inevitably leads to why is everything is so damn wrong.

(Dangerous territory, I tell you.)

Yesterday I drove to pick up my sons from their father. (For context, this involves an eight-hour drive.) For more than a week I worked myself into a sleep-deprived frenzy, wondering how, exactly, I’d get through three precious days without clinging to my babies, how I’d be able to resist the need to touch their hair, their hands, their hearts, how I’d be able to afford them their personal space, what I might say if they pose a question that triggers my own fear or pain…What might go wrong? How do I explain what went wrong? How drastically will I do this all wrong? Is there a rule against being honest? Is there a rule against showing them tears when I’m unable to hold the tears back? Is there a rule for being a parent who isn’t quite sure what the rules are anymore?

We drove late into the night, returning to Birmingham well after midnight. When we arrived at home, both boys woke from a sleepy car ride wired and restless. I collapsed on my bed with D next to me, his little rainbow bracelet loom in his lap and his legs wrapped up in the full lot of all his favorite blankets that I keep at the end of his bed, knowing they’ll be the first thing he reaches for when he walks into the house.

When they come back to me, when they are home, all the sleepless nights cash in and my body surrenders. I rest. I’m overwhelmed with an elated exhaustion. It’s a sensation I cannot describe.

We took our time getting out of bed this morning. I had my coffee while we talked, made each other bracelets, played with the kitten…then they both hauled off to play their video games and Facetime with friends. I sat at their feet for a full hour and just stared…I basked in them.

Around noon, we headed out for all our favorite spots: Pizitz for noodles, Paramount for Guitar Hero, Seasick for new vinyl, E-Plex for whatever it is they play when we go to E-Plex, Edgewood Creamery for a treat…then we came home for a big pasta dinner, spins on the turntable, and Godzilla (D’s favorite).

It was a busy day—the kind of busy that feels good and right and leaves that happy feeling at the top of your tummy, like a perfect meal that’s just enough and not too much, shared with the ones you love most. These are the days I live for. These are the days when the rules are simple: give love and let love. Easy…right?

Mind
Confession: In between moments of boy-mom busyness, I went inward to grapple an angry fear: I’m afraid of what I don’t know yet. The past few years have been—for lack of better words—a process, and I’m so scared there’s another turn just ahead. I try to breath in and out, but if I’m being honest I hold my breath a lot because—trepidation of the unknown is sort of intense. Uncertainty can take your breath away.

Here’s what I do know: I know I love being a mom, and I realize I have to find a new path in my journey as a mom and also as a woman. I know I don’t want to be the type of parent that over-plans and packs full the schedule because every single second feels so significant. I want my sons to feel the comfort of routine when they are in my orbit. I want them to relax in that routine, to feel safe and supported. I know it’s okay to mess up, to say I’m sorry, to model kindness and forgiveness just as fervently as I model strength so that both of my sons understand that a woman can be soft and sturdy (and successful).

The mind is a wild animal sometimes. Today, in the moments mine remembered she was without her well-laid rules, she was on a tear. Good news: she was also self aware.

Body
Before dinner, the boys and I grabbed the scooter and jump rope and went outside to blow off steam. We shrieked and giggled and skipped and jumped and my body leapt with energy at the opportunity to be in the company of these darling young men. (Also keeping up with a tween and teenager requires endurance and I showed up with plenty today because if you must know I jump rope every morning and have gotten quite skilled at it—the shrieks were in fact the boys’ genuine and joyful disbelief that their own mom has so much game.)

Spirit
Both of my sons said thank you today, at least a dozen times.

They walked beside me, closely, letting me know that even though they’re too old to hold my hand, they’re still close. My heart, even in its healing, was so touched just by their presence. Being a mama is such a gift, and today the wealth of that honor felt rich.

When divorce happens, it’s typical for the two separate homes to have two different sets of rules. This is never lost on me, and I respect that both G and D are tasked with managing that dance between their father’s home and mine. While there are a few non-negotiables at my house (brush your teeth, leave it better than you found it, don’t call your brother “stupid”, be virtuous with your words), there are a few rules that I’ve been rethinking for my new household—an anchor, if you will…

Rule #1: Stop trying so hard. (Context: You’re a badass doing your absolute best so let your friends and your family pour delicious love and light into your wide open and willing heart.)

Rule #2: Let go of the impossible. (Context: Just let that shit go.)

Rule #3: Buckle up and enjoy the ride. (Context: Life’s too short to not live it to tethers. Let’s go!)

Also, rule of thumb: turn it up🤘

x,
lk

Photo: Sunset over Pawleys Island, 2019