Slipping Away
I filed for vacation leave for three days this past week with hope that I could spend some quality and relaxed time with my son who would be on semestral break from school. I had planned on a "staycation" as he had requested last month but, with an adolescent son and an ageing mother, life can be full of surprises.
Aside from spending much of his waking time in front of the computer to play games with his friends, he decided he would spend several days with his father instead as they had not been together for the last two weekends.
I would find myself spending time with my mother instead, going the rounds of hospital clinics and laboratories in search of what has become an elusive relief for her lower back pains. Yesterday was extra challenging as we dealt with an adverse reaction to a newly prescribed medicine for her osteoporosis. She was vomiting everything she tried to take in and had been weak and dizzy perhaps because of limited food intake. She was more dependent than she was willing to be, but I knew she really was having a tough time as she didn't resist when I handed one of my bells to her so it would be easier for her to call me at night.
When I finally found some space for myself and to be quiet in my thoughts, I felt a certain sense of loss.
My son is moving out of the world we had built for the two of us as he now expands his world and spends more time with his friends and the world outside albeit virtually. The little boy who wanted to spend endless times playing with me, taking walks with me, and watching movies with me, now hardly shows interest when I introduce the idea of watching a film or doing something together. An idea that brightens me up and makes me feel very excited hardly interests him. It's so easy to take these occasions personally, and I must admit that many times I'd feel offended and hurt. Yet, I catch and remind myself that, as an adolescent, he needs to go through this if he is to create a solid sense of self-identity. The little boy is slipping away not out of my life but out of the boy-Self so that he can lay the ground for the man he is going to be. And the only way for me, as a parent, to go is to give him enough freedom to explore the world beyond that which I find safe and familiar, to make decisions and face the consequences, and to be there for him at all times, ready to welcome him in my arms when he needs the comfort and love that only his Nanay can give.
My own Nanay is also slipping away. Many times I'd find myself very frustrated and wishing this process would be easier for us, as rosy as how they'd portrayed it in the movies. Sick parent stays in bed and receives care from their children, sharing memories they held dear, allowing themselves to be docile recipients of their children's care. I'd realise though that, for many of us, this process would be more tumultuous, marked with battles of wills and our own inner battles especially when the ageing parent is an independent, self-sufficient, controlling elder struggling between holding on to that sense of control over her body and life in general on one hand and allowing herself to receive and surrender to the reality of their fragile and fading physical and mental health. The challenge for an equally rigid daughter is to learn the right balance of letting my Nanay still do things that give her a sense of purpose and make her feel strong and yet to also be there to support and show care in moments of her vulnerability. She is slowly slipping away into old age and perhaps even into the next life but while she's here I need to teach myself that, in as much as I had worked hard at my individuation process toward being free from the bondage of parental expectations, she too has a life of her own and is not my extension.
These transitions can all be a beautiful dance. . . of two be-ings.
Aside from spending much of his waking time in front of the computer to play games with his friends, he decided he would spend several days with his father instead as they had not been together for the last two weekends.
I would find myself spending time with my mother instead, going the rounds of hospital clinics and laboratories in search of what has become an elusive relief for her lower back pains. Yesterday was extra challenging as we dealt with an adverse reaction to a newly prescribed medicine for her osteoporosis. She was vomiting everything she tried to take in and had been weak and dizzy perhaps because of limited food intake. She was more dependent than she was willing to be, but I knew she really was having a tough time as she didn't resist when I handed one of my bells to her so it would be easier for her to call me at night.
When I finally found some space for myself and to be quiet in my thoughts, I felt a certain sense of loss.
My son is moving out of the world we had built for the two of us as he now expands his world and spends more time with his friends and the world outside albeit virtually. The little boy who wanted to spend endless times playing with me, taking walks with me, and watching movies with me, now hardly shows interest when I introduce the idea of watching a film or doing something together. An idea that brightens me up and makes me feel very excited hardly interests him. It's so easy to take these occasions personally, and I must admit that many times I'd feel offended and hurt. Yet, I catch and remind myself that, as an adolescent, he needs to go through this if he is to create a solid sense of self-identity. The little boy is slipping away not out of my life but out of the boy-Self so that he can lay the ground for the man he is going to be. And the only way for me, as a parent, to go is to give him enough freedom to explore the world beyond that which I find safe and familiar, to make decisions and face the consequences, and to be there for him at all times, ready to welcome him in my arms when he needs the comfort and love that only his Nanay can give.
My own Nanay is also slipping away. Many times I'd find myself very frustrated and wishing this process would be easier for us, as rosy as how they'd portrayed it in the movies. Sick parent stays in bed and receives care from their children, sharing memories they held dear, allowing themselves to be docile recipients of their children's care. I'd realise though that, for many of us, this process would be more tumultuous, marked with battles of wills and our own inner battles especially when the ageing parent is an independent, self-sufficient, controlling elder struggling between holding on to that sense of control over her body and life in general on one hand and allowing herself to receive and surrender to the reality of their fragile and fading physical and mental health. The challenge for an equally rigid daughter is to learn the right balance of letting my Nanay still do things that give her a sense of purpose and make her feel strong and yet to also be there to support and show care in moments of her vulnerability. She is slowly slipping away into old age and perhaps even into the next life but while she's here I need to teach myself that, in as much as I had worked hard at my individuation process toward being free from the bondage of parental expectations, she too has a life of her own and is not my extension.
These transitions can all be a beautiful dance. . . of two be-ings.
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