Today as a guest poster we have Bridget Straub. And boy did you hit a home run that knocked me off the bench. I can so easily related to the melancholy of being up at night, my thoughts, all haywire, and then finally worrying about one of my kids. Read on you'll see.
Sleep is not something that comes easily here in my mid- life. When it does finally wash over me, it is short lived. On any given night I will wake up at least twice, and when I do, my mind is always shifting its focus on any variety of subjects. Last night it was my son, who is about to have his twenty sixth birthday. First off, I had the thought that this is just crazy. I am not old enough to have an adult child, and there is no getting around the fact that by twenty six, you’d had better be an adult. Secondly, what kept circling my head was that I was only a year older than him when I decided I had to have a child.
It’s hard to imagine now, but back then I thought I had all the answers, and a fairly clear picture of how my future would play out. I had lived through a very violent crime, and knew things could change in an instant. As a result, I had an accelerated desire to avoid putting off what could be accomplished in the here and now. Just because my Mr. Right hadn’t come along, that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a baby. Turns out, my Mr. Right still hasn’t shown up, which leads me to wonder about the best laid plans and all of that.
My son has not yet found his calling, and as much as I can now step back and know there is plenty of time, I sense he feels that same urgency I did. We went through a rough patch several years ago, when like so many teens, he fell in with the wrong crowd, and developed a meth addiction. Those were terrifying times, but happily he has recovered, and I couldn’t be prouder. There are consequences to something so destructive, however, and he now feels trapped in an unfulfilling job, and is stuck living out of state. It’s the old catch 22 of not being able to afford in California what he has in Arizona, which is a nice house, and a steady, albeit not great, paycheck. I wish there were a way to make his journey easier. He deserves to be happy and to find his bliss, and yet I understand his resistance to risk the calm that he has carved out for himself.
Later this month, his sisters and I, along with much of his extended family, will travel down to see him, and to celebrate his place in our hearts and our lives. In the meantime, I’ll continue to think of him in the middle of the night, in between writing imaginary posts and novels. After all, I’m his mom, and I’m not sleeping anyway.
Wow Bridgett. Thank you so much for a poignant and personal post. I do hope to hear how your trip turned out hun.
Guess what Bridgett is not only a mother but and author too. Find out more about her book Searching for my Wand.
Glenda was named (incorrectly) after Glinda the Good Witch and therefore, subconsciously, has spent her entire life trying to live up to the reputation of a fictional character. To the outside world, she’s succeeding. She appears to have it all, the perfect husband, two beautiful little girls, a nice house, good friends and a dog name Bono! To Glenda, it’s not all that it’s all cracked up to be. Life throws her some unexpected curves and her world begins to unravel.
Through laughter and tears, Glenda tells the story of how this good witch is searching for her wand and is coming out stronger than ever.