Push & Pull

Is it possible to be both too close and too far at the same time? This is how I feel when I am around him.

Last night, after reading books and brushing teeth and singing songs and listening to a meditation, he pushed his stuffed animals to the edge of his bed and turned away from me. I lay there. Afraid to move. Unsure of where to go, of whether to go. Paralyzed by fear of both leaving too soon and getting too close. If I stayed very still maybe he would forget I was there and melt back towards my body — like sinking into sleep.

This week has been hard. There have been a lot of transitions and there is too much to do and not enough time. I feel like I am always running but never getting anywhere. I’m living in this space between mother and teacher (both of which feel all consuming). I’m caught here and therefore unable to focus on what is there.

I’m juggling, but I don’t want to be. I want to be all in (here for him, here for them, here for me). But I am on the verge of letting something drop.

What if I can’t readjust in time? What if it drops? Is it time to let it go? Will he land on his feet?

How can I be there in the way that he needs me to be, without giving up the things that make me, me?

Can I be a good teacher and a good mother?

Maybe it’s not only (or always) about being physically close, but providing one another with psychological safety. Instead of dropping the ball, maybe I need to bring it into focus and acknowledge this push and pull from my body. Maybe we need to explore this painful process of individuation and make time and space to mourn what we are leaving behind, while preparing ourselves for the challenges (and independence) that lays ahead.

I’m just not sure how to do this.

So he pushes and I pull. And we dance this awkward dance. And I just hope that next week (or the week after), we find our rhythm.