Devastated
When the twins were little, we belonged to the Science Center, which showed movies in the Planetarium. There was a movie about black holes that freaked us out (yet, for some reason, they kept asking to see it again and again), especially its description (and accompanying animations) about spaghettification.
The idea is that as you approach a black hole, “an object is stretched in the direction of the black hole (and compressed perpendicular to it as it falls). In effect, the object can be distorted into a long, thin version of its undistorted shape, as though being stretched like spaghetti.” In other words, you are pulled apart in the most painful way.
That is how leaving the kids at college felt.
This is a dramatic description for someone who feels otherwise about leaving their kids at college, but it’s how I felt.
I used to use my HSG as my 10 on the pain scale. Delivering the twins without an epidural was a 9. Getting my tooth drilled without Novocaine was an 8. But that HSG was my eternal 10 until now. Dropping off the kids at college was physically and emotionally painful. The physical pain ebbed and flowed, sometimes reaching a 10, other times fading down to a 5. But the emotional pain was always beyond a 10, and it started weeks before we left, burned through the week we spent moving them in, and followed me home.
And I kept thinking, “This is what we were so freaked out about when they were little, thinking about the idea of falling into a black hole and how we would be pulled apart.” I felt like I was being stretched and distorted as I faced down the moment we would have to say the final goodbye until fall break. I was falling toward a nothingness. An everythingness. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I don’t feel like myself. I am not good company. My home still feels like they will be back after school: a used cup left on the counter, books stacked on a table. They are finding their footing and thriving, figuring out college, new friends, and new places, which is a relief. But I still have a lot to figure out, including how to get through the day now that it looks and sounds and feels so different from how it was before.
Thank you if you reached out. I’m sorry if I didn’t respond. I really don’t feel like myself right now.
16 comments
Please say you’re getting professional help for this. You should not have to be dealing with that much pain on your own.
I’m so, so, sorry it has been so hard and painful. You have the love and support of so many on the internet behind you. I agree with NicoleAndMaggie that professional help may help alleviate some of the pain. <3 <3
I am so sorry. Do you have a good therapist? It’s taken me decades to find a good one, and she does EMDR, which can help you process trauma in a very different way.
I’m glad to see you posted, but I’m sorry it’s been so devastating. We are here for you. My therapist would probably say: do self care, drink water, feed yourself, go for walks, find distraction, throw yourself into a project that boosts your serotonin, visit some baby animals. Adopt a kitten? Puppy? Another guinea pig? Learn to crochet adorable amigurumi and send them in care packages to the twins?
How long is it until they come home for their first break?
I’m so sorry you’re struggling. It’s a tough transition. Keep us posted, as you’re able, on how you’re doing. Sending much love.
I am so sorry to hear you are in so much pain. But equally, how wonderful to love your children so deeply. I remember my mum taking a picture of me as I was packing to go to university (this was before the days of smartphones!) because she said I would be a different person when I came back. It didnt cross my mind until reading you that maybe she felt this was a sad thing… but now I think about it… change is also loss. Abiding with you. (long time IF lurker).
Glad to see you back posting, Mel — but so sorry you’re having such a tough time. 🙁 HUGE (((HUGS))) to you.
There must be some online groups for empty nesters that could support you through this transition?
xoxo
Holding space for you in your grief right now.
Thanks for sharing – this is too big to carry on your own. Would it help to talk with a grief counselor? A good grief counselor or therapist can be very helpful when working through these hard transitions. Be gentle with yourself during this time and take good care.
In the hospital, when my physical pain was a 10, I had to get help to reduce it. It was too agonizing not to. I believe it’s the same with emotional pain. No one should have to endure a 10 of emotional pain on their own.
If you haven’t already I hope you can reach out to a medical provider you trust. There is no shame in asking for help in a situation like this. Sending hugs.
I am so very sorry this has been so hard. I hope the pain eases and your new normal comes. I’ve done this 4 times now and each and every time I cry when they leave back to school after a break. Over the years, I slide back into the new normal a little sooner but the initial ache for them is still there. Grateful our 16 year old is still home and one of our 23 year olds is living at home for grad school. I have a feeling I’ll be in your shoes when the youngest heads off to school in a few. Thinking of you ❤️
I have nothing to add to the advice everyone has already given, but just wanted you to know I see you and am sending virtual hugs.
❤️
I’m so, so sorry. Sending huge virtual hugs and keeping you in my thoughts.
Seconding (or thirding, or…) what @Nicole and Maggie said, and sending hugs. I have missed you.
I’m sure it was just as bad as you imagined it would be. But I’m glad to see you back at one of your outlets. That’s progress. Thinking of you…
Oh, big hugs, Mel!!! And my goodness, they’ve started college!?! I’ve been out of the loop for too long. I hope you’re feeling a bit better a few days on. <3