EMPTY NEST SYNDROME-NOT I!
It's a fresh new day. I sit in my usual ritual in the back yard, at peace, reflecting on who I've become. Wondering how I got here. Knowing its right, serves some elusive purpose. Purpose different than that which has gone before, as if all things past take their place in the archives of memory. The lessons, are now a permanent piece of who I am. It is odd to recognize how things only make sense in retrospect, odder still, to be different than I have ever been.
I am Amazon.
Still in process of identifying what it may mean, but knowing some things for sure. Knowing that I no longer have to follow the rules that dictate motherhood but rather, now free to follow those rooted in the depths of my soul. Free of the fear that the path I choose will endanger or otherwise impede on the needs of my children.
I have time to take better care of myself. I let my hair grow long because I can. Because I like it that way and can afford the extra minutes it takes to wash and brush it. I stay longer in the shower, close my eyes and take long relaxing breaths with each cleansing caress of washing. I walk wrapped in towels for as long as I want then apply lotion to my skin before I dress. I choose my clothes as if it matters what I wear even when I'm not going out. I have things to do and things to be responsible for. Not always the same as before.
I know we are supposed to grow more patient with age; yet, I seem to be less so. I have less patience for chatter, for wasting time and energy, which are both precious commodities, and no patience at all for tantrums, games and dishonesty. As well I have developed zero tolerance for the rules that serve to keep us in boxes. Rules designed by those who fear any form or idea that is not exactly like theirs.
In other areas my tolerance expands as my mind opens to explore new possibilities. I find myself questioning with a sense of wonder and depth that questions the questions that arise from the answers.
I only bake sweets for occasions now. I use my kitchen for extracting the properties from herbs to make tea or tinctures. I make healing salves and embrace the possibility of making candles and soap. Dried bundles of herbs and flowers now hang were the wet clothes of a hundred children have hung before.
The toy chest holds fabric and yarns. The Un-Attached Child and The Ways of Discipline have been replaced on the bookshelves with Women Who Run With The Wolves, The Women's Ency. Of Myths and Secrets and The Herbal Home Remedy Book.
I hurry less, but seem to get more done.
I expose myself to new experiences. I read my first sci-fi recently; tried some new music both of which I find have value. I go on secret adventures; driving or taking trains to places I've never been before. I only tell others as much as they wish to know about those experiences and have begun to define the difference between secret and private. Secrets being those things we keep to ourselves that should be told. Private being those things that we have no obligation to tell but share as long as it doesn't bring harm to self or others.
I sleep less but rest more.
I am free to make new choices. I follow my heart as I listen to my own sense of right and wrong that doesn't always parallel with societies code of morality. I explore the difference between taking responsibility and falling prey to guilt. Recognizing the difference is the difference between healthy amends and self-pity.
I am more gentle in the way I use my hands and my words, yet I am more warrior like in drawing the lines that others are no longer allowed to cross. I continue to love unconditionally as long as unconditional is not defined as a willingness to accept cruelty as an acceptable part of life.
I am more quiet and less silent.
Betsy Foster
© June 1999-Revised July 2001
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