It’s been a while. There have
been so many stories. But, they are not all mine to tell. There has been my
story- a mother watching, a wife waiting. But even that story, right now, is a
mountain that seems insurmountable.
The winds of change are opening the windows to whisper new
truth- which as softly as it seeps in, strangles my heart. And, at the same time, it propels me forward to keep fighting, as mothers do, to problem solve- to
find answers- to kiss the wounds.
My son has struggled. For a long time. He is older now. But
he is so fragile. Fixing his problems no longer means providing a distraction,
a present, a carrot to lure him away from places of self-doubt. It no longer
means that my words are the gospel- just because I’ve been on the earth longer.
Honestly- though I struggled in my youth in my own way- I have not had to scrutinize my intrinsic identity as he now must do
in order to arrive at a place of self-acceptance. How can I really know what he
is feeling? My empathy does not inspire his trust that I know what the hell I’m
talking about when I try to assure him, It
gets better. His acceptance of and peace with himself, with his identity,
with his awareness has to come from within. But, oh how I wish there was a
magic wand.
One night he sent me a message via text: Why do you love me? Because I’m your son? Maybe you love who I used to be and you don’t want to let go.
I gave him a list of adjectives describing the qualities I
admire and enjoy about him. But he threw them back- doubtful that they could be
true because he felt like he was being sucked into a fathomless darkness. I
told him: You are going through a rough time- it’s unsettling for you right now.
But just like the jagged pieces of a broken bottle on the beach- after you get
drawn into the water, tossed around a bit- smoothed out by experience, time, understanding- you are going to be an amazing piece of beach glass.
He used to comb the shoreline as a child- in that hunched
over shuffle- looking for the best pieces of beach glass. Holding each piece up
to the sun- admiring the way the color was further illuminated.
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| An illustration from when he was much younger. |
We are on a
path now-toward healing, toward helping him live an authentic life. I will
continue to walk along beside him. I love him for everything he is, of course I
do. I knew when I brought my children into the world that I could not place
them in a mold and expect them to stay put. I knew I had to be open to their
perspective, their interests, their sense of self. I have hope enough for both
of us. He will be the most glorious piece of beach glass.
