As much as we would like to think our past is our past, and there it shall stay, there are times when it will come to the surface. It will appear to remind us of where we came from and how human we are. Usually it happens in the most unlikely of times and spaces. Out it comes from it’s dark corner to slap you up-side-the-head.

I had such an experience this week with my son. There’s nothing like a child in early adulthood to bring you down to Earth. He’s been living away from home for about four months and due to Covid-19 and the jobs market being non-existent, he had to return home. I was disappointed for him, but also kind of delighted to have him back.

But something wasn’t right. He had changed and wasn’t his usual warm and adorable self. Maybe it’s just the upheaval and disappointment, I thought. None of us want to have to return home so soon after our first flight from the nest. “He’ll settle down again”, I told my partner as we discussed the weird energy in the house.

Truth Hurts.

As the days and weeks passed after his return, things didn’t get better. He grew more withdrawn and colder. It turns out that having his own space brought up a lot of things for him. Old, not so nice memories to be precise. Memories I had hoped would have been wiped away and forgotten by time. Alas, that is not the case.

His trauma response lay dormant and waiting for its chance to pounce. He is no longer my brown eyed and curly haired chocolate drop. Now a young man of almost twenty, living alone allowed him the space to process his childhood. We’ve always been an open household where everything was spoken aloud. At least I thought so.

But apparently not!

We were cooking dinner in the kitchen. I could feel the tension from him but lately whenever I asked what was wrong, his reply would be “nothing, I’m fine.” I made some comment or other about the dish we were preparing, and bang. Every delusion I had about my parenting and my personality was swiftly demoted to the compost heap along with the vegetable peels.

Dinner was delayed.

For the next hour, I was made abundantly aware of every flaw I possess and every instance of shitty behavior I enacted. Lot’s of them I already knew, but now I know a few more that I was in denial about. My child rendered me speechless. As I stood in front of him witnessing years of trapped emotion flee his body, I realized, at times, I hadn’t been mentally or emotionally present for my children. Sometimes I was a really shitty mother.

I thought I was this really great mom who had to make very difficult choices to make sure my kids were taken care of. My assumption was that they felt safe and cared for. The truth is, that was not the case. My son didn’t feel safe a lot of the time and he didn’t trust me. In fact, he didn’t even like me much.

I was crushed and couldn’t speak. All I could do was let him get it out and listen to every word.  The realization that the version of certain events and the story about my relationship with my son was a complete fabrication that I had convinced myself was true.

I had conveniently chosen to blame other people for my pretty awful relationship experiences. However, my son pointed out that it was me who made the decision to be in them. He is right of course. I made really awful and quite dangerous decisions thinking that I was doing the right thing at the time. My life was in chaos and I didn’t know how to cope. As a result my son felt alone and afraid.

Making amends.

I felt like I was drowning in disapproval – my biggest fear. The shame I feel is almost too much to bear. But this is not about how I feel. This is about my sons feelings. I’ve spent all my life trying to detangle my own feelings and trauma. Now it’s time to help him process his trauma. My job right now is to make amends to my precious son and repair our relationship.

Things are better though. The energy has softened in the house and his eyes are sparkling again. We are taking walks together and he’s making me tea. We’re discussing music, and books, our favorite topics, and planning for his return to college in September.

Our conversations now are between two grownups. He knows I am a very flawed human and at times a vulnerable one. Our relationship has changed, I think, for the better. We both have healing to address and because of his bravery we can do it together. He’s at the point in his life where he can make sense of everything in an adult manner and I’ll be there to support him through that. His adult eyes also mean I won’t be able to get away with anything.

Scary!

 

 

 

Author

Nicola is a Health & Wellness coach with 20 years experience helping people heal and find their path. She is a qualified Reflexologist, Masseuse and Life Coach. She has created content for intherooms.com for 7 years. She was Editor at iloverecovery.com and has written for many recovery publications online and in print. She is also an author at The Girl God books. She has lived with type 1 diabetes for 38 years, since she was 7 years old.

3 Comments

  1. Deborah Harrison Reply

    What a wonderful story thank You so much. I can relate so much to this as I myself have made some destructive choices in my lifetime with my children as well, and we have all sat and drew our own boundaries to help sort them all out. I have 2 girls who were abused by their father, as was I. I can see now that when we divorced and they still had to deal with him and I did not other than verbal backlash, but there was some issues that were lingering that were not taken care of and now we are working on mending our relationships. They choose to step in front of me concerning him now. I am lucky in that respect for he is the same person he has always been. where I am not. Out of the mouths of babes. The kids know more than we think they do. I will never make that assumption again 🙂

  2. christine harrity Reply

    I too related to your story. Recently we had a pet die and I was so hysterical as I had never experience having a pet die as an adult. Well my adult son reminded me that he had experienced the deaths of many pets when I wasn’t there. The way he talked to me was crushing but I had a chance to listen, and to acknowledge that I wasn’t there and missed so much of my children’s childhoods.
    I often go through the guilt of being away from them my during my addiction and again during my recovery. I am constantly going through sorrow of not being there for my children when the ;boogie man ‘ showed up. Your story helped me to know that I have been here for the past 32 years Thanks to God and you people.

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