Surviving...

I wrote a few months back about the difference between surviving and thriving. I am currently trying just to survive. My husband has left for a year-long deployment, my grandfather is dying, and if anything else comes at me at the moment, I feel like I might just break into a million pieces. How am I to continue being a great parent when I can’t even keep myself together at times?
I have found that the time I have invested in my children the past ten years, allowing them to thrive, is really paying off during this time of personal crisis. While they too feel the stress and sadness of the prominent male figures in their lives leaving, being shown compassion from the time they were born allows them now to know exactly what to do for their poor mom.
My children know how to grieve with me. They know that it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be sad or mad or confused. They are not afraid to come to me with their feelings. Their feelings aren’t punished, and they don’t punish me for my feelings in return. They see the tears on my face, and they provide me comfort, sharing the sadness with me.
I know that the phrase goes, “be good to your children, they will be choosing your nursing home”, or something like that, but I’ve found that the rewards for treating your children with kindness and respect at a young age can be accessed much earlier than when I hit old age.
If I had not spent so much time comforting my children throughout their infancies and early childhood days, would they know how to comfort me now? If I had left them to cry on their own, allowing them to learn how to “self-soothe”, would they be comfortable now coming to me while I cry? If I had squashed their displays of emotion throughout their toddler days, would they be able to accurately describe to me their feelings today, and be able to relate to what I feel in return?
My children have been my rock during this time. While some days I dread getting up out of bed to make another breakfast and teach another day’s worth of school, they each have surprised me with small tokens of kindness throughout the days. Coffee already brewing when I go downstairs. Breakfast made and served to the younger ones. School work out and underway before I even ask. Quiet and cooperative play in the afternoons. A painting of a rainbow. A succession of sweet kisses. A nighttime check to make sure I’m okay.

Now my children are not angels. They are working through their own difficulties at the moment, and it’s not always easy for them to handle their own emotions, much less deal with mine as well. I do not place the burden of caretaker on their small, fragile shoulders. They know that I will continue to take care of them, set boundaries, and provide them what they need. But they have also shown me that love is not just a word. They have shown me that even when I’m not the kindest person to be around, I am loved. Even though my partner in parenting is not with me, I have helpers. Love and compassion, they come from the heart, and are shown in both words and actions.
I know that we will get through this rough time together, and make it out on the other side stronger, closer, and thriving.