Life Changing Times

Apparently caterpillars turn into a gooey mess first, then emerge as butterflies.

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about likening myself to a butterfly – I mean, delicate….graceful…..dainty…..not so much. But emerging from a gooey mess and growing wings, absolutely.

The gooey mess (I like writing those two words, can you tell?) has been, as you would expect, messy, sticky, exhausting, confusing and involved a LOT of crying. I don’t usually cry a lot, or hardly at all in fact, but I seem to have made up for a few years worth recently.

I could get into all the cliches of the hard shell cracking, letting the light in, the grief coming out….apt, albeit slightly vomit inducing. But by my standards, there seemed to be all the tears, all the time. Tell me, does anyone actually ever cry beautifully or is that just a movie myth? Holy shit, I don’t.

But this is what happens in my life changing times. I was saying over the (more than slightly debauched) summer that I could feel major changes were coming. I didn’t know what, but I’ve gone through enough to recognise the pattern.

And a huge part, I came to realise painfully, is about my role as a mother and provider. I kept saying to close friends ‘I’m done with parenting’ which they, understandably, found quite alarming. But I didn’t let that deter me, I kept on repeating it…..they had social services number saved just in case and on we went.

Most parents feel that way about 50% of the time, but rather say it as a way of expressing frustration, exhaustion etc. I wasn’t saying it that way at all – I meant it. I didn’t understand what I meant, but I knew something major was shifting. Given I’m writing this currently from an earthquake zone, I’ll use that as the metaphor. I could feel the cracks and the movements internally, tectonic plates shifting inside me, seismic shifts coming, certainty in the earthquake, preparing myself, uncertain as to the outcome.

My earthquake was an outpouring of grief, loss and becoming….you guessed it…a gooey mess. And I didn’t understand that when it was happening either, but I went with it. And finally, it has started to make sense.

My soon to be 16 year old and current 17 year old have reached the age where they need to grow their wings. My children have deeply complex needs – I don’t like the word needs as it implies a lack – they are not lacking, quite the opposite. Rather they have required me in my role as a fiercely protective, all embracing, all providing mother to cocoon them until they are ready to face the world with their differences.

And that time has come. No, I’m not throwing them out on the street, but I am moving towards taking a big step back in the coming months and letting them grow their own wings. Understanding that may involve them at times becoming somewhat of a gooey mess for a while first.

And holy shit, that’s tough. I’ve been parenting for 33 years, I have been larger than life, making miracles happen, providing over and above. Raising deeply vulnerable children, as an adult who was a deeply vulnerable child and not parented. The lines of who I was parenting invariably became blurred.

Which means I am having to face the challenge of who the fuck am I if I am not fighting to protect children? It’s no coincidence that I am both now and in the past working with Save the Children. I’ve been fighting my entire adult life to provide for my children, emotionally, financially, physically. And my entire life to do the same for others around the world.

Ha! How twatish does that sound? ‘Look at me, suffering to save the world’. Not so much ;). What I am saying is that the underlying thread in it all is that I was repeatedly ‘saving’ myself. Over, and over, and over. And over again.

And now I am stopping. My children no longer need me to be the momma bear, and in fact, carrying on would be detrimental to their progress. I am close to done to flying off around the world to jump into the next crisis/humanitarian disaster.

The latter I am stopping sooner rather than later. Without anything yet to go to, with the need for (another) loan to keep my cripplingly expensive life afloat. But I know it’s the right, if far from the easy, thing to do.

And therein lies the life changing moment. This is my ‘fuck it’ button in action. Major life changes coming up? I’ll fucking grab them with both hands. I’ll process, I’ll walk through the unknown, I’ll sob, shout, laugh, go through the fear and take major risks – but I’ll keep going forwards. I don’t settle for safety, I don’t compromise for comfort, I don’t hide. Because that starts to dim my light, parts of me start to fade away, the parts of me I love. And, no.

Terrifying, exhilarating, raw – and real. As any life change should be.