It's been an odd week. I've felt so off-balance I haven't felt like writing about it.
Getting my daughter off to a studio apartment 100 miles away was much, much harder emotionally than I thought it would be.
I miss her. We ALL miss her. It's as simple as that.
Her life here with us was not as tumultuous as others in our position. Funny, I never noticed "tumultuous" has four u's in it before.... Even during our worst times with her, I could always (eventually) talk with her. Sometimes she was stubborn, and sometimes I was. Sometimes she apologized, and sometimes I did. We always muddled through.
She's hugely self-reflective and has a good head on her shoulders. She usually makes good decisions, especially when we look back and see the bigger picutre we could not see at the time.
For example, the more stressful moments this week, as it turned out, had her good intentions behind them.
We were swamped with constant visits from her friends. Some showed up early before any of us were really up. They did not leave until most of us were in bed. Every time I left a bathroom or entered the kitchen, I was met with a small throng of friends. One would finally leave, only to have two more show up.
It wasn't til after I lost my temper and booted everyone out that I found out what was going on.
The constant crowd was a little bit about soothing her fears. But it was mostly about soothing her FRIENDS' fears. They all needed her reassurance that the friendships would survive. She was trying to keep everyone happy til she could finally leave.
Now she's set up in her new, extremely tiny studio apartment. Her new mentor took most of the week off for some much-needed downtime, leaving HER alone in a tiny town with no transportation her first week there.
But when I IM'ed her, she was fine. I suspect that, rather than missing her life here, she was enjoying her solitude. She actually has a hugely private side to her that now has a chance to breathe.
It's hard for me right now. I wake up in the middle of the night, thinking of some "important" thing I forgot to tell her, or something I neglected to teach her. As I gather up the items she left behind, I think, "Oh, no! She left her tea kettle!"
Not to worry, she messaged me, we can bring it the next time we come up. In the meantime, she can microwave water in a mug. And she already knows what I neglected to teach her. And she's already figured out what I forgot to tell her.
It's a relief to realize she really is able to take those first few steps with confidence. And when the confidence falters, she uses courage instead.
Now if only my Nervous Nellie, menopause-racked brain could accept what my heart already knows.
