The Dam Burst

The dam finally burst. This morning I checked in with Laurel then talked to my Mom to catch her up on Laurel’s college drop off. And my Mom said words that I imagine many parents — especially those of us who grew up in households sparse in the positive feedback department — wish to hear from their own parents: “You’ve done a good job raising your kids.” I held it together just long enough to say goodbye and then I started sobbing in a corner. (I’m not kidding…Jon and Violet had to turn me around from my corner to comfort me.)

This was a notable and surprising moment to me because I have been so steady through Laurel’s transition. Part of this is my nature (I'm a former emotional robot actively working on developing emotional fluency), but a bigger part is that I just feel so sure that Laurel is ready; she’s an incredible, lovely, kind, functional human being who also knows how to dig in and work and be scrappy. My happiness for — and confidence in — her has overshadowed my sadness. I felt steady at drop off and during the ride home and have felt steady in our calls since.

So what does the bursting dam mean? In relation to my post yesterday about trust and care (thank you the outpouring of loving, supportive comments and messages), I guess I will add that — in addition to all of the inner reflection we might do, and the trust we hold in the process, and the many acts of care we give to our kids — it is deeply powerful when we ourselves can be seen and affirmed by a loving force, particularly at a moment when we may feel steady but there are glimmers of vulnerability under the surface. I unraveled raw in that moment in my corner, and even though that can be a very uncomfortable place for me to be, I am grateful to be reminded that all the feelings exist for a reason. Thanks, Mom.