Taking a gap life

My eighteen year old son left for an overseas adventure on Monday. Whenever I mention this to people they say, “Oh, he’s taking a gap year”.

            I’m a writer, of fiction mostly, and I’m currently working on a novel. I write at home at a desk in a corner of our open plan kitchen, dining and lounge room. The last few days since my son left have been quiet around the house. Before he went travelling he was working shift work at the local cinema so was often around during the day, coming and going to the gym or to meet friends, playing Play station in his room. He was in and out making us cups of tea, singing, chatting or walking the dog.

            And last year he was studying for the HSC so again, he was frequently around. He often worked at the dining table which is in clear sight right now though nobody is sitting there. He likes to be in the centre of things, doesn’t want to miss out on any action or conversation. We sat at our computers only metres apart, encouraging each other to keep working, to stay off our phones and to take breaks.

            The days before he left were hard for me. My mind of attachment was strong and painful and I had to accept those uncomfortable feelings of fear as the bittersweet part of being a mum. But the mind of love is stronger and I am happy for him to be exploring the world and understanding his place in it. I am also enjoying the space and time that has opened up again now that I am at home working on my own.     

            In fact, this space and time to think about my work have allowed me to see important connections within the story. I am gaining some clarity regarding the major themes and events in the manuscript that wasn’t there when I was frequently being taken away from my own thoughts and inner experiences. It is a gentle simmer of creative understanding that I am trying not to grab at too quickly.

            It feels like I am seeing movements in my peripheral vision of people and possibilities and if I turn to look at them front on, they might just sneak away into the shadows. They might not be there at all. So I am allowing these ideas and thoughts to stay on the edges until they are ready to come closer. It is an exciting part of the creative process.

            This clarity and connection of seemingly disparate pieces of the work has arrived in only a few quiet days. A few days in which I chose to be patient and kind to myself as I processed the fact that my eldest child is no longer in his room or down the road at the beach. He isn’t at his cousin’s place or a few blocks away at work. He is on the other side of the world. He is far away having a go at living his life the way he wants to, without his mum looking over his shoulder.  

            Considering these points, I have decided that I want to rename the “gap year”. The word gap implies that his life in on hold from important things. When in fact this year (or several if that is how long it takes) is a chance for him to have the space and time to forge the connections that he needs to make in order to understand who he is and what he has to offer the world. Without an agenda of needing to achieve anything in particular, perhaps he will be able to see how the pieces of his life fit together and, like building a jigsaw puzzle, an image may slowly start to appear.

            Maybe this space will enable him to create a vision of himself to take forwards into his life, to keep as his own. I think that as parents we need to be careful not to force our opinions onto our kids. To keep telling them about our images of what we think a successful life looks like. If our thoughts and wishes for our children are making us feel stressed or anxious then they are probably coming from the clingy mind of attachment rather than love. The two are so easily mixed up.     

            I hope that I am able to remember these insights when he is home again and I feel the need to offer my opinion disguised as kind advice. It would be nice if we could all give ourselves the space and time to just be even when we are doing this within the context of our busy, busy, busy lives. We can take away the pressure of always achieving and doing with a specific outcome in mind and allow ourselves and those around us to just be. For as long as it takes which may be the rest of our lives or theirs.         
With love and compassion for all of us parents fumbling through and joy at the emerging young adults we have helped to shape,
Kerry.x