THEY ARE JUST BUSY....

Do you sense a theme here?  LOL   Last post I talked about me not being busy, but this post I will talk about the busy lives I see around me, particularly those of my adult children.

Off the top, I admit to not completely being healed of my Anxious Attachment bond (see last post for an explanation of this if you haven't read it.)  I still need reassurance at times that I am not alone in the world, that I'm seen and appreciated.  Unfortunately this need can come in conflict with others' needs for something very different.

Take my kids for example.  In their late 30's and early 40's they are in the very heart of their "productive years" -- big careers, big homes, big social lives, raising kids.  I remember.  As I wrote about last time, I did all of that too and more, with all of our community/political/personal growth work.  

So, they are busy.  But hey!  What about me????

I had a fantasy that by developing what I considered a close, loving, and supportive relationship with my sons, and later with their wives, and later with my grandkids, that would naturally result in being centered in their lives in some way.  Not THE center, of course, but not too far afield.  Well, some days I feel pretty darned far afield.  LOL  

I've asked for "just say hi" texts.  Nope, that's not happening much.  I've asked for coffee/happy hour/lunch dates. Rare, but appreciated when they happen.  I've initiated these types of connections and some have worked out, some have not.  We used to host a weekly family dinner, but Covid ended that and we never found our way back as they got "busier" and now I find it sometimes exasperatingly difficult to get an agreement on a date for even an occasional family get together.  They are just too busy.

I hear this from friends with whom I've tried to talk about this issue and they seem to accept more graciously than I the "they're busy" explanation for lack of contact.  I've also heard it from Hub, who is just fine with how things are and doesn't have the same need for the type of connection I'd hoped for in my fantasy years.  

Over the years I've even heard it from therapists who had to listen to my laments. One (male) told me my mothering task, when they were teens, was ultimately to "just let go".   (So easy!)  

One therapist told me about her own experience, which was quite like mine, and counseled that we will never be as important in the daily lives of our kids as they are to us.  (Gulp.)

Another, my recent 30-something therapist (yes, she was young, and I really appreciated her perspective) said it truly is a "busy" thing and not intentional.  They get lots of texts, calls, emails all day at their jobs; things to attend to and distractions at home, etc, and that text that came in from Mom becomes another thing that, with all good intentions to "get back to her", can fall through the cracks.  She asked me to see that the alternative to this, an unhealthy attachment to me, would be far worse.  They are thriving in their lives.  Celebrate that. (I do!)   She also counseled NOT to reach out as often as I feel I want to.  Too much Mom.  LOL  So when I feel like reaching out, sometimes I do; more often I don't.  

The grandgirls, one entering middle school next year and one half-way through high school, have pretty much left our little mutual-admiration-love-fest nest; we've become "just friends" (LOL) as they explore their changing lives in totally age-appropriate ways with friends and interests that don't include Hub and me.  I get it.  It's right to be that way and I'm happy to see them growing into themselves.  And I miss them.  But now I have a baby grandson who doesn't really know me yet, but will be showered with Grandma love as he grows -- and eventually also grows away.

Ooooo....I'm sounding so whiny here.  And I'm feeling embarrassed and like maybe I'll never hit "publish" on this one.  I feel too vulnerable.  And yet....I cannot possibly be alone in my feelings, can I?  

My parents were very careful about not wanting to be demanding or interfering or "in the way" and maybe I learned that lesson too well.  I know some parents just barge into their adult kids' lives without hesitation.  I don't do that.  I try to respect their time and their boundaries.  I may want more contacts from them, but what I don't want is to have their time with me/us be born of obligation or end in frustration.  It's complicated.

There was a storyline in one of our current favorite shows "The Pitt" where an older couple needed assistance and instead were being stubbornly independent, to their detriment. Their adult daughter tried to help but also had a busy life of her own. It was complicated, but the dad said something like this at one point:  "We know how it feels to be young; but you don't know how it feels to be old."  The next day my socials blew up with older people saying they were moved to tears by this brief storyline, and that bit of dialog in particular.  It's so true.

Going back to my previous blog post: I know what it's like to be young, and busy.  And now I know that much of that busy-ness is wheel-spinning, is often unappreciated even as it's happening, is almost always done with a cost, and eventually is transitory.  

I just watched a documentary on PBS about Bella Abzug, feminist icon and firebrand politician from New York.  (Watching was like a tour of my formative years in the 70's and beyond.  I highly recommend:  "Bella: This Woman's Place Is in the House" PBS American Masters series.)  Anyway, at the end of the show one contemporary of Bella said she worried about Bella's legacy, that it was important to keep her contributions alive.  She had asked her Yale-student granddaughter if she knew Bella Abzug.  Her granddaughter replied she'd never heard of her.  Our legacy is brief and often unheralded beyond the moment.  Bella herself, as she was dying, expressed some concern about what impact her frequent absences during her career had on her daughters.  What is truly important?

I don't know.  There are so many circumstances, nuances, needs, drives, and distractions in life.  The cost of our lives is spent in time.  We all have 24 hours in a day; we all make choices about how we spend those hours.  Busy, yes.  But what we are busy with matters.  I'd love some do-overs about how I spent my busy years.  And I'd love to be able to advise my kids to really be stingy with how they spend their "busy" capital too.  And I do try to gently impart the wisdom I've gained, while also "staying in my lane" and "keeping the welcome mat out and my mouth shut" as is advised in a recent book on being parents of adult children.

I am grateful that my sons and their families all get along with each other and with us.  When we are together there is laughter, sharing stories, lots of food, and big hugs all around.  We do have a Messenger Family Group where we occasionally share news and photos of trips, etc.  So I realize I'm just being a bit greedy with my want for more.  Not a day (or an hour?) goes by when I don't think of one or more of my family and wonder what they are doing, how they are feeling, what's going on in their lives.  I'd love us to share more regularly.  I really don't need every detail of their lives, much of which is none of my business and I don't really want to know about everything.  I'd just like to hear from them more often.  A "thinking of you" text would be nice, right?   

I think the "just let go" advice is hard when the Mommy Heart longs to love and be loved like in bygone days.  I know full well my children are grown, my grandchildren are growing, my own life is winding down.  To reconcile all of that and understand it from all perspectives is perhaps impossible.  We don't all have a time machine.  But I do know what it's like to be young and now I know that not everything is as important as they think it is.  I know what it's like to be growing older, and how important family connections are, perhaps above all else, when it's possible.  It's important to make it possible.  Connection takes effort.

It's also important to make peace with what is.  I'm working on that.

At least, that's the view from here...©

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