New Shoes

Written last Monday:

Tomorrow is my day off, Tuesday. The one day I don't go into the office these days. It's been a change, getting used to commuting back and forth, seeing my kids less. Last Tuesday after picking them up from their fourth day of school I made the mistake of taking them to the mall to get shoes. I'd been picturing taking them to the Vans store--even though I couldn't afford it with any kind of money other than the pretend kind on my credit card. I imagined they'd love the cool shoes and it would be a fun adventure, yet another way to mark the transition into a new year.

I usually love the start of the school year, have ever since I was a kid. Finding out who my teachers were going to be, feeling myself get geared up to a new level of functioning, getting both excited and nervous about diving back into the bizarre soup of social confusion and thrill, wondering if I would feel like enough. Hmmm. Did I love it? Those words all together paint a different picture. It could be hard and scary at school. A lot of times I felt like I didn't know what other kids were talking about and I learned pretty quickly that to feel safe, to not feel dumb or not enough, I better pretend that I knew what everything meant. Pretending to be cooler than I felt on the inside started young.

The past few weeks I have been stressed. Obsessing actually. That's new awareness for me--that when I feel out of control my mind makes plans, revises them, imagines scripts, revises them, has conversations with itself, tries to look at something from all angles. Spinning, spinning, spinning, trying to soothe myself by naming what is happening, making sure there are no surprises, and finding a way to make it turn out the way I want or need it to.

My ex and I had made an agreement to try a particular after school program for the kids and I did not want to. I knew I did not want to and I agreed to try it anyway, because my values got confused like they sometimes do, and I put getting along and being liked and being a team player above what was best for the kids. I tried to make space for my co-parent because I know that I am not always right and I know that I see things through the lens of what I know or believe to be true. And because it's hard for me to make space for my own self. To allow myself to need something for my kids for my sake too.

As the beginning of the school year got closer, I knew I did not want them to go. I felt it in my bones and throughout my body that I did not want them to go. I tried to talk myself into all the reasons it would be ok. I reached out to trusted friends and heard from them the reasons it would be ok, even if it wasn't ideal. I felt panicky. I knew that feeling panicky did not necessarily mean that the program itself was bad. I was feeling scared and sad and out of control. So knowing it in my bones, that I wanted them home with less structure, more free play, the ability to go find a comfy place to reset or jump on the trampoline or play on the rug with Duplos with no timeline, felt like the one truth. But I know there is never one truth.

My babies going into kindergarten. My kids away from me way more than they're with me. The loss and fear of that. The ache of longing to have more time with them. The belief that what I was asking for was best for them. And also the willingness to fight for myself in the process. To say I need this and I am allowed to need something. I am allowed to keep them close.

Spinning, not sleeping, obsessing. I asked to change the plan. It was difficult and triggering to try to work things out with my co-parent. It affected everything I did. I used every tool I have access to, trying to take care of myself.

Getting divorced was so much more painful and humbling than I expected. So many people get divorced. This happens. They keep going to work and seeing friends and functioning. I didn't expect it to gut me daily. I didn't anticipate how hard it would be to get myself together and keep all the rage and grief and loneliness from spilling over onto my kids. I didn't anticipate how hard and confusing it would be to try to show up as myself, my real self, with these growing young people when my real self was scary and hurt and mad. I didn't anticipate how much strength of will and willingness to reach out and near constant self-regulation it would take in order to be a grown-up when I needed to be the grown-up.

Last Tuesday I picked the kids up and took them to the mall, with all of this back up in my face, swirling around inside me, attempting to shove the feelings down into whatever secret hidden hole unacceptable, uncomfortable, difficult feelings go into when they're not wanted.  The kids were jumping out of their skins. I forget that transitions are still in full effect on day four. I forged ahead. We got to the mall with excitement. Ice cream and the park were promised for after. Together the five of us skipped and ran inside.

It was not fun. No shoes were purchased. They were goofy. There are four of them. It's not a playground. One kid out of four had found satisfactory shoes that fit. I wanted to leave. The kids were wrestling and using loud voices. One of them noticed that the lady at the front of the line in a wheelchair only had one leg and came to tell me about it, loud voiced and full of curiosity and wonder. The young man next to me kept looking at me. If I were a cartoon there would have been steam coming out of my ears.

I hit my breaking point. I can't say what pushed me over the edge but I snapped. Slammed the shoes down. "I'm done. We're going. No ice cream. Let's go"

The shock spread. Tears and disbelief and hurt feelings and disappointment. They trotted after me on their long short legs as I strode with purpose and desperation out of the store, turning around to herd them safely into the van. I felt wretched. They were miserable, promising to be good, so hurt and scared, still asking to make sure they were clearly understanding that there would be no ice cream, the one child who had actually fallen for shoes and was now not getting them broken-hearted. I feel so sad even recounting this story.

We sat at a red light and I started crying. "Are you crying?" one of them asked. "Yeah." And that made them cry even more.

We all cried together in the messy minivan on the way home. I seethed, all walls up trying to hold it together, finding no gentleness for anyone anywhere in me. Help me, help me, help me. This is not what I wanted for today. I feel trapped by myself. By my hardness. By my powerlessness. By everything. I'm only with them for another hour. This is my one spacious day in the whole week to be with them and it's wrecked. What a dumb decision to do this. Help me. My shoulders were hunched up to my ears and I could feel the muscles that have been clenched and spasmed for weeks settling into their twisted up places because there was no where else for them to go.

Lots and lots and lots of deep breaths. Apologizing to them. Taking the blame onto myself, saying I asked too much of them and of myself and that I was sorry.

Transitions are hard for me. Really hard. This has been true for most of my life, as narrated to me by my mother and felt by me with growing layers of awareness as I grow in wisdom and self-knowledge. I know how to take care of myself better, how to make space for the mystery that is packaged within the change. How to notice when I'm gutting it out, pushing through to get to the other side, clenching my fists and the muscles in my face to just be done. And it still surprises me that a transition takes so long. It's not just the day itself--back to school day. It's not just the couple days before and the couple days after. It's a process, a settling in, a shaking off, a whole body, whole spirit experience. And being in relationship with other humans adds seventeen other layers of ACK and WTF and BE QUIET and TOO MUCH and HOLD ME. So many chances to be let down or to let someone else down as we're doing our best to ride the waves.

Be gentle with yourselves. Humaning takes a lot of energy.

Oh and this past Sunday with an unexpected four hours off I went to Nordstrom Rack to buy myself a new suit as I prepared for an interview. While there I picked out and purchased four perfect, comfortable, well-made on sale pairs of sneakers for my kiddos. With joy and gratitude to be alone while being with them in my heart.