Are you feeling emotional about Empty Nest season too?
by Krysty Krywko
photo by Logan Weaver for Unsplash
Empty-nest season is almost upon us. This rite of passage in the parental journey kicks into high gear in late summer. It’s often a season filled with dread and sadness, especially for women, as their progeny head off into the world.
I think we can easily buy into the narrative of what the patriarchy wants us to believe – that as women we no longer have a role in society once our children are launched. That we’re used up. That our life just languishes in front of us. Our only happiness to be found when our children stumble home with their duffel bags full of dirty laundry and their empty bellies ready for some home cooking.
I sometimes wonder if we haven’t created a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy around the whole empty-nest thing? Am I sad because I think I’m supposed to be sad? What if I'm not walking around with a box of tissues all day? What does that say about me as a mother? Does this mean I don’t love my kids enough?*
What if we didn’t anticipate that this change would be hard? What if we acknowledged that this is the next healthy step in the evolution of our family? The next health step in the evolution of ourselves? That our children are supposed to go off into the world to do their thing? That by allowing our children the space to change and adapt, we get a chance to do the same?
Often our experiences are compressed into either/or scenarios. You’re either the devoted mother who walks around all day with a box of tissue, because she never knows what might set her off; or you’re the emotionless mother who turns her child’s bedroom into a workout room.
But, what if we allowed ourselves to be both?
Our lived experiences show we are way more complicated than that. There is always the option of the middle way. Of allowing yourself to be in the liminal space of not knowing. An empty nest is absolutely about loss and shifting into a new identity. But, what if you acknowledged that grief, and instead of letting yourself get swallowed up by that grief, you used it to shift into a new identity? Are you allowed to move forward into your new identity with joy and curiosity?
As a single-mother, I find the freedom of stepping into an empty-nest a little intoxicating. There are some things I want to do with my life that I can’t while it’s so heavily intertwined with my children. I’m in no way abandoning my children. They’re off having new experiences in new places. Why do I have to be the one stuck in the same old life waiting for them to come home at Thanksgiving?
I never had this kind of life-agency in my 20s. I didn’t really know who I was or what I wanted; compromising on my dreams before I even had them figured out. I was busy trying to pay down my student debt and following boyfriends around. My 20s were very much centered on thinking I needed to have everything figured out by the end of the decade. It’s like I had a checklist that I needed to run through and then I could relax: get married by a certain age, have children by a certain age.
Now, I’ve been there, and done all that. What’s next?
This is the point of the article where I’m supposed to say – go get a hobby, find new interests, join a club, take up Pickleball.
But, all that leaves you with are new ways to distract yourself so you don’t have to feel.
What if I suggested something different?
It's not about distracting yourself. It’s about becoming so fucking aware of yourself it hurts.
I want you to hold grief and joy at the same time, which means being present in every moment.
I want you to struggle to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
I want you to ask yourself what feels true in this moment, and to not be so numb with distractions that you can’t answer.
And, honestly, on some days, nothing will feel true anymore. Our bodies, our careers, our relationships may also be in a state of flux. But, it’s this state of flux that gives us the space to figure out who we really are. We have this chance to rewrite our stories in a way that is more aligned with who we are now. We get to shed the weight of people, places, and things that are no longer ours to carry.
None of this is going to feel easy and it’s not going to happen overnight. You won’t wake up the morning after your child has left with your new identity figured out. It’s going to be raw and messy. But, I do think you have a choice of stepping into the mess with heaviness and dread, or with possibility and excitement.
In my work with women who are exploring the relationship with alcohol, the empty nest often plays a role in their increased nightly drinking. Distractions start out innocent enough. They lean into nightly happy hours, high-intensity workouts, hour-long social media scrolling sessions, or extra-long workdays. The danger is when those distractions become addictions.
And, those addictions start to serve as your coping strategies. You can slide into an area of darkness, without even realizing it happening.
Removing distractions, or at least becoming aware of when you’re using them, allows you to dig deeper into the parts of yourself that you most likely haven’t been in touch with in a while. If you’re curious to start exploring your relationship with alcohol, please reach out and book a STRONGER SOBER session here.
*I am in no way making light of women who deal with very real symptoms of depression at this time. If this is your experience, please reach out to your doctor or therapist.
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