The Gift of Time

I have sat down to write a post for the past two weeks but have continued to fall short. I have tried to connect to my energy and attempted to drill down, but I kept coming back with something fractured- and unclear. 

I have been struggling to find the space inside myself that I can sink my teeth into—the place and certainty where my writing and thoughts usually come from.

For me, this was a long summer.

I am a summer person; I always feel spring lift through my body, and the summer on my skin feels like a balm. But this summer was different.

It was an eternity.

I knew my oldest child was leaving for college this fall. In May and early June (which I wrote about here), I was present and was able to be in the moment– capable of finding the in-between. 

But this summer- I struggled. The anticipation of the loss was my Achilles heel.

I could not help looking at all things as the last, or trying to get in front of knowing what the inevitable change would feel like. I felt reluctant to commit to plans, and I found myself staying close to home- not wanting to be unavailable if there was something that he wanted to do or even just hang out and do absolutely nothing.

I wanted to be there for all the things and not miss a moment.

I think that (unconsciously) I believed- if I did that, if I didn’t miss a second, I would be spared all the complex feelings everyone talks about when their children leave.  

But- it turns out we don't work that way.

Keeping myself as available as possible did not stop the feelings that this epic change would mean. The understanding that for the very first time in his life, my job was to leave.

My job was to have laid the groundwork for him to spread his wings and flourish.

My job was not to double-check everything, make sure he had eaten enough, had a ride, wasn’t sick, had his uniform washed, or just check in to see he was all set. My number one task was now giving him space to do it all.

By himself. 

So, I have transitioned.

I am now on the other side of the drop-off. I know that for me, the anticipation was terrible. It was exhausting and all-encompassing.

I also know that only some feel it this way. Everyone experiences change differently and this was my process. It was the way I needed to do this milestone.

My younger son is still very much here in our slightly quieter home. We are all adjusting to the new dynamic.

I am finding myself carving out our new rhythm, bending myself around the new shape of our household.

I see and hear his excitement, independence, and maturity, and I feel joy. I feel what it means to have a piece of us that is away yet still inextricably connected. 

For one of the first times, I feel excited for fall instead of nostalgic at the loss of summer. I am anticipating the crispness of the air and the turn of the season. My anticipation is over; real life and this new phase have begun.

There is no question that the silver lining has appeared.

I find myself relieved that time has this ability- and reminded of its power. Time heals and soothes. It allows us to adjust.

Let us be more aware and in the moment when we are going through a hard time- that time itself will truly help us.

I say it it so often in my work with patients, some things just take time.

A loss, a breakup, a transition, whatever it may be, time is with you and will help you through. This was a reminder for me. I will take it with me- I invite you— take it with you too . 🙏🏼

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Dr. Danielle Shelov

Dr. Shelov's therapeutic approach emphasizes understanding individuals within the context of their families, childhood experiences, relationships, and larger systems as crucial to psychological treatment.

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