Settling: To Be or Not to Be...
Getting through the stuff, the memories, the discoveries, the letting go...
(Click below for the audio file.)
Settled, settled, settled!
That’s all I want to be is settled!
This summer is the summer that I want to “be settled”. I want to do the settling in order to be settled.
And in order to be settled, I decided that I need to really finish all the unpacking and sorting since the movers dropped off what felt like a million boxes about a year ago.
All year I had spent my “extra” time getting my bedroom, my workspace, and the main living areas sorted and unpacked. But I hadn’t yet attacked my kids’ rooms yet.
Maybe that was unintentionally intentional.
I knew that dealing with their room would also mean going through A LOT of their old things prompting what would feel like their younger selves popping into my consciousness and heart. I knew that as we made decisions about what to let go of and what to hold on to, what to put in their closet for storage and what was still useful or brought smiles, that this wasn’t just about organizing the “stuff”, it was about sorting through memories.
For the prior two years while we lived in a small condo, I had the break or luxury of putting off that annual, bi-annual or even moving scenario of going through their clothes and belongings. Most of their stuff was either in storage or packed away in places that bringing them out would have limited their space for play and created more clutter in an already small living area.
I knew that someday I/we would have to go through this stuff, but because it was already so stressful living in small quarters, I allowed myself to “shelve” that task.
So in planning out this last summer, I knew that the time had come for me to carve out the space, time and energy to sort through ALL.OF.IT.
The impetus to actually get it done was that I wanted my kids to feel settled, feel grounded before their next school year started. It was a box I needed to check.
So as not to overwhelm myself I did each room in stages and in chunks of time. I felt into what and how each kid could help dealing with their own stuff. But I did feel a certain sense of needing to do it myself also. First, there was that motherly inclination to help them feel and get sorted. It is a BIG chore going through boxes and boxes of things and figuring out what goes where.
And, second, in retrospect I realized that I needed to be a part of the process- this process of “settling”—because I also needed to be a part of the process of the letting go. Every time we picked up a toy, a picture, a piece of clothing, a book, a drawing, or a random whatever, a memory would either float into my brain or grab my heart—like a puppy staring at me with puppy dog eyes, “are you really going to let me go?”
When I got to an item I wasn’t sure about, I was very thankful for my brain’s logic as it would chime in as if in group discussion, “I know, I know what you need to do with it!” It would say: “this shirt- that really cute one that she used to wear all the time—it doesn’t fit Elliana anymore. It’s time to let someone else use it.” And if I my heart had already had a louder voice the previous 2-3 times a cute something or other my son or daughter used to wear or use, then this time my brain’s “logic” would keep me in check. And into the giveaway box it went.
I did allow myself and my kids one box of: “we’re gonna keep this because it was/is still really really special to me/us even though we can’t use it anymore…” And the couple of times that the box started overflowing- we were able to go back around and say: “mmmm, not sure we really need that 5th book, we already have these 4 I used to read to you…”
…Maybe I also waited all year to attack their rooms, because there was only so much transition I could handle. We’d already been transitioning into our new life here in Oklahoma City and all that goes with it, I really didn’t want to face that my mommy-ing was also in a big transition as for the first time I now had two teenagers.
And I do really enjoy them actually—for the most part. When they’re not splayed out on the floor because I’ve asked them to do something- acting like they are 100% boneless—they actually are really great conversationalists. I so revel in learning and listening to how they are understanding their more and more complex world inside and outside as their thinking develops.
But they were also the squishiest and most lovable babies and toddlers, and even primary schoolers. And as my fingers grasped the items and the images filtered into my eyes, my heart wishes it could go back in time and at least babysit these two kiddos. My being doesn’t want to re-live it all, but I would definitely feel overjoyed to just pop back into time for a visit. Oh that would be delightful!
When I decided not to have a third child for various reasons, I remember it was a grieving process. I had saved almost everything of both of my kids for “just in case.” And as I went through those baby items and smelled the outfits that somehow years later still had a lingering hint of baby smell. And with our senses, the power to be transported back to a place in time just from a smell, a sound, an image, a feeling, those tender moments with my kids came rushing back like a breeze of cool air on a hot day.
I remember for several months, as I continued to enjoy my almost preschooler and first grader at the time, I missed their small bodies and beings. When I spoke to friends about it, I would get choked up and tearful. It was grief for my two kids but it wasn’t like they had died. And but yet, there were parts of them that were gone and also parts of myself that was also gone.
What I was feeling then, I realize represented the epitome of motherhood. We somehow hold this space between constantly holding on and letting go. We exist in a whirlwind of balancing this moment in time EVERY.DAY. It’s like standing next to the child when they are on that wall they insist on walking on. You stand next to them in case they need to take your hand for extra balance, extra support, extra confidence. But then you also need to be ready to let go if they can walk it by themselves.
And every time we reach our hand out and it’s grasped, or a voice blurts out: “mom, I got it!”, we need to accept it. But right before we get that feedback from our kids—we’ve already invested the energy to be ready for both scenarios. That’s A LOT of investing- whether we know it or not- whether conscious or not, whether intentional or not.
And so as my children have grown and now I don’t need to stand right next to them in case they need my hand as they crawl, walk, jump, skip or whatever on that wall—and I can sit on the bench and read a book or not even be in eyesight of them—what do I do with that hand that’s been trained to be ready to be used in a particular way???
Anyway I digress, having already been through a few cycles of growing awareness of this duality of being that many mothers often go through. And in taking the time to allow myself to let these complex feelings exist and flow through me, as I went through ALL.THE.STUFF in my kids’ rooms, and as there ultimately became more space to enjoy the space of their bedrooms, it felt gratifying.
It felt gratifying because I felt like in the work I put in, I was allowing each of them the space they need to keep having space as they navigate their own settling and challenges that might come up in the year and years ahead.
This “space” also feels profound or meaningful or important because it is the last time that they will have this “childhood” room.
We’ve moved so many times that they have each had 6 childhood rooms- but this will be their last. And this will be my last time that I will be holding their hand while doing it. Sure- I will hope to help them with their rooms in college or post college abodes, but this will be the last time that I am as close to them holding their hand as I did all those years ago by that wall in the park.
So as I write this, and now realize how important this is to me as a mom- when I think of the original plan, which was to “be more settled”, some shifting has indeed occurred that I had not even thought about.
See as I was going through all those boxes and totes and cleared out space on the shelf, the floor, the wall, or the closet, I would feel so accomplished. I mean it felt like a sudden clearing in the woods where lush green fields and hills would become visible!
Later that day or the next day, I’d peek in the room just to get that feeling! Aaahhhh….Like a freshly vacuumed carpet- so satisfying!
And then, and then I would notice another pile behind the door I didn’t get to, or I’d say to myself, “gee, now that the floor is cleared again, maybe you can unpack that box under the bed.” So I’d go get a stool—much more comfortable than the floor. And it was stool that we got when they were super young- a giraffe carved wooden stool. That we decided to keep because (referring to the previous “rules”: 1)it’s still cute and 2)it’s still usable.
So I’d get the stool and pull out the box and start going through it— and then, and then the floor was a mess again! And there was now more stuff scattered—again!
And since there was several cycles of this happening, I started to feel a metaphor come up. And it reminded me of times when I have gone through some relatively deep self development phase, had the “aha” moments, only to have another layer of the same issue reveal itself again. That yep, felt messy and frustrating and took up energy and emotion. Just like going through the additional boxes, even AFTER THE FLOOR WAS ALL CLEAN!
But alas the more I have let in the processing of the emotional boxes just like opening these moving boxes, it doesn’t feel nearly as overwhelming as it used to.
I even said to my friend, “I thought I checked that box already.” And maybe the thing is, is that it’s like the category box has been checked—but there are still those “sub-categories” that either life or my Soul or God will continue to bring to my attention.
So I allow the messy floor, and I allow the tears and frustration, trusting that a clearing will happen if I keep going…