When Adolescence and Midlife Intersect

As my youngest workshop participant when I was still his sun, moon, and star  (Baguio City, 2008)

Three weeks ago, I played chaperone to my son and his girlfriend as they watched a concert in the big city. My tagging along was a compromise as they had initially wanted to go by themselves.  The protective mother that I am (and who wouldn't be given the present social realities in the country?)  just couldn't let them go on their own in the evening.  The recent spate of killings of adolescents in what the government claims to be a war on drugs clearly shows that anyone can become a victim. I'd rather be accused of being a protective and paranoid mother than risk losing my son in a senseless death. Thankfully, my son knew this was a battle he couldn't win with me and therefore didn't put up a fight.

Although I was delighted to have had the chance to spend a bit of time with my son and his friend, I was mostly feeling nostalgic all evening. How could I not when my memories of being his chaperone were mainly in kiddy parties and school field trips?  How could I not when, in the past I was his sun, moon, and star, and that weekend I was no more than a shadow? It wasn't self-pity that was eating me but accepting my new role in his life as an adolescent. I had always known that this time would come, but any parent would know the inner resistance to the changes that this period would call for, not only from the adolescent but also from us parents.

Our combined journeys as adolescent son and middle aged (not to mention peri-menopausal) mother intensify the struggles that had died down after his preschool years. The battles are back, this time far more intense. He is trying to test his and my limits; he is exploring the big world outside the four corners of our home  as he sets out to discover his sense of self and lay the ground for identity formation.  I, on the other hand, would like to define boundaries and create more certainty and stability as my own crisis of limits sometimes pushes me to develop an orderly world and life that would prepare him for life without me. By this I mean his life on his own as he eventually leaves our nest as well as my inevitable passage to the next life. At times, it feels like we're two warriors fighting each other for different causes and grounds. I can only be grateful that, earlier on, we've developed a deep and solid love for each other.  It is this love that we always come home to when bloodshed becomes inevitable.  It is this love that helps us to choose our battles wisely.

The little boy who wanted to be firefighter when he grew up (field trip at the Museo Pambata, 2008)

I remember a text conversation I had with Mama Lou, one of my life mentors - my former professor in English and mother of a friend.  I was telling her about the struggles of a single parent whose son was suffering from frequent asthma attacks which meant being in hospital confinement at least once a year. I asked her how she managed those days when her own daughter, a dear friend of mine, developed eye tumor at a very tender age of six. Her response was simple, yet truly liberating.  "I kept in mind that everything passes. Hard times pass, and that kept my hope alive. Good times pass, too, and that reminded me to savor good times with her and with the rest of the kids."

I try to remind myself of this wisdom from Mama Lou. For sure, all these battles will soon pass.  I can only hope that my son and I will have nurtured our love and appreciation for each other amidst the battles and perhaps because of these. As aptly expressed in a quote I found on Facebook today, "The bad news is that time flies. The good news is that you're the pilot." Yes, time can fly me by, but I don't have to be a helpless victim of what comes my way. I can choose my battles.  I can choose how I'd fight my battles. And I can choose to shift perspectives and see areas of cooperation and perhaps occasional compromise where, often, I'd only see battles.  I can then see the beauty of our mother-son journey from a wider perspective and beyond the occasional blowing of emotional fuses and tugs of war.