It’s the tail end of summer where I live. Last week, I was on a quick road trip in the US, where school starts a bit earlier than in most parts of Canada. We saw lots of families eating breakfast in our hotels who were clearly travelling to drop almost-grown kids off at college — jam packed minivans, stressed students and sad parents trying to hold it together, and occasionally younger siblings watching with a mix of envy and eye rolling.
At one point I teared up a little when a dad opened their van to shove one more thing in the back and several open shopping bags of his daughter’s drugstore supplies came tumbling out, their contents rolling into the busy road just as they were trying to pull away. (When the final straw is actually not straw, but deodorant and lip gloss…)
It’s amazing what we can adjust to.
Two years ago, that was me — tears very close to the surface as we got our youngest settled into his residence room across the country and returned to an empty house. It’s a bit easier now, although I still much prefer to have all four of my babies in one place (which did happen for 3.5 glorious days this summer and included a wedding engagement! But seriously, only 3.5 days?!)
So today’s post is for all the parents out there who are struggling on the brink of a new season as September approaches. As one wise friend said to me, “We cry when each one leaves home, but maybe for different reasons!” Whether you are sobbing quietly in the bathroom or doing your happy dance, I see you. Change is emotionally complex, even when it’s change you’ve been wanting and working towards.
But even if parenting changes are not part of your story right now, I know that many of you are navigating transitions of other kinds. They have a lot in common.
I recently re-read “Managing Transitions” by William Bridges — his classic “Transitions” was first released in 1980. I’m going to dig into it for the next few weeks on the blog. For today, I want to engage with a few nuggets that contain echoes of things that have helped me adapt since that August when my youngest left:
- Transition involves endings not just new beginnings. It can help to name the losses that come with endings, be clear about who is losing what, and leave space to grieve. (Me: And name the possible gains too. And notice the resistance to all of it.)
- Define what’s over and what isn’t. Continue what really matters to you. (Me: And sometimes we can’t. But it is still stabilizing to remember, truly, that all is not lost or different).
- Make the time in the wilderness that follows the endings creative, not just bearable. (Me: Experimentation over decision has really helped. What small thing could you try?).
- Take time to step back and take stock, perhaps through a retreat or change of scenery. (Me: Having something to look forward to is also very powerful. I’d suggest booking a trip to Costa Rica with me in February! J)
I have also found positive reframing (without toxic positivity) to be a skill worth strengthening. Although I giggled when I first heard it, it’s been weirdly useful to think of myself as a “bird launcher” rather than an “empty nester”! What might your equivalent be?
You don’t have to be a parent for these ideas to resonate. I trust that if you are finding your way through any season of transition, personally or organizationally, they’ll offer a deep breath and a moment of clarity in the fog. More to follow next week.
And if you’d welcome some company on your journey, reach out — I do have a couple of coaching spots remaining for the fall semester.