Cultivation

Last year I wrote a happiness plan.
Then life got in the way.
I recently mentioned this in a small group and someone commented, “I hate when life gets in the way of happiness.”
My first reaction was agreement, but then I realized this wasn’t quite what I had meant.

While upheavals in my children's lives derailed that particular plan, I’m not sure that my happiness was completely quashed.
Oh, I definitely wasn’t happy as first one child, then another, then another, had major mental health crises. In fact, their dips into major depression and anxiety took me to the precipice of my own mental well-being.

But these were just circumstances; events that have been an all too frequent part of my life since my children's illnesses became apparent. And before that, I had my own struggles with depression and anxiety. And while the pain of watching my children's suffering is excruciating, somehow I’ve learned to maintain my own core of contentment.

I hope this doesn’t sound crass or lacking in empathy. The number of tears I have shed over the years would fill the sea. Perhaps it’s been learning how to navigate the never-ending waves of sadness over their suffering that has helped me find my own path.

I used to fight against circumstances, questioning why my children had to suffer so. Now I recognize the unfairness not only of their suffering, but of life itself. Everyone suffers with something. If you haven’t yet, your time will come.

I think contentment arises from accepting the “what is” and learning how to live with it, deal with it, make the best of it, rather than always yearning for “what might have been.”

Life is now. This is it, complete with all the happiness and the sorrow. I think I have learned to appreciate the good even when the bad threatens to crush me. Most of the time.

I embrace life and live for now, knowing full-well that tomorrow might bring ever greater sorrows. So today I am thankful for the little things - puppy kisses and cats on my lap, delicious coffee and homemade pie, a sunny day and comfortable shoes, hand spun yarn and knitting needles.

I also give thanks daily for the big things; a husband who loves me and takes care of me, children who are intelligent, witty, and caring, a family full of love.

I wouldn’t say that love conquers all. But with love at my core and a generous appreciation for the here and now, I’ve found I can make it through the crises without losing myself.

And while Happiness can be elusive, contentment often can be cultivated.

Leavings

I stood in the open doorway; most of the furniture was already gone. Just a smattering of cat toys and miscellaneous socks littered the floor.

It was just a little more than a year ago that we repainted her room - a surprise for her return from abroad.

Now she’s leaving in a week - first apartment, first professional job, first time that home will have a different meaning for her.

But the room looks so empty.

We have plans for the space - a computer desk for my husband, an out-of-the-way place for the exercise bike.

It will be ours from now on; she’ll only be coming home to visit.

The cats will have to adjust to having just me; only one lap, one person to exclaim over their antics.

My son busily sorts through his papers, packs books and miscellaneous keepsakes to be stored in our basement. He has lived away before, but now he’s leaving for a grad program in a different state.

No more random coffee cups left on end tables, giant shoes cluttering the entryway; one less person coming and going.

I’ll miss the bang of the attic door and his footfalls down the stairs.

It is time for him to leave; maybe past time.

The dogs will miss him terribly. He has slept with them a couple of times this week; soaking in their kisses and adoration while he can.

The youngest will soon head back to college - a second year away. Home will still be here with us for her; a weekend here and there and vacations.

Our younger son paid off his student loans and is looking for an apartment. He, too, has lived away from home for school, but this will be a true leave-taking.

Just last year people often expressed shock to hear that all my adult children still lived at home. Funny how cultural expectations change over time. We were glad to give them this space to save money, pay off loans, and get their lives on track.

I’m excited for uninterrupted time with my husband. It’s been 28 years since we’ve lived without children at home. Admittedly, the past couple of years have felt kind of crowded at times.

Today I am home alone. Soon, very soon, this will be the norm.

My children are wonderful people and I am going to miss them - terribly at times, I am sure.

It is time for them all to fly away.

Time for me to figure out mothering from afar.

And time for my husband and myself to savor each other’s company again.

I will miss them.