I’ve been trying to come to grips with living alone.
I grew up in a pretty close family. Shared a room with 3 siblings and suffered a bout of chicken pox with them all. My poor mom. After an addition to the house, I shared a room with my sister. Alone time was in the bathroom or up in my tree. Privacy was at a premium.
I got married and moved in with my husband, for 7 years. Moved to Arizona, with my parents for a fresh start. Got a roommate, got pregnant, got another roommate. After a terrible divorce, I moved back in with my folks and my son. I’ve spent the last 20 years living with my son.
Now, he needs to be on his own. I understand. It doesn’t make it hurt any less to know this. Childless friends think I’m being overly attached. How could they understand the bond between us?
This soul came to me in a dream a month before I became pregnant and told me his name. Labor and delivery was awful. His dad was flipping out because he had no control. My mom was an uninvited guest who asked me. “When are you going to hurry up and have that baby?” While I was on my 8th hour of hard labor. Exhausted, and half mad from pain. No moral or physical support. That poor mid-wife had her hands full.
Thank goodness for modern medicine. We could have both died if not for that C-section. I’d still like to know why my son’s father so vehemently opposed the C-section when my doctor offered it along with a specialist in high risk births. I’d like to mention that my OB-GYN was 6 months pregnant and the nurse monitoring me was 8 months pregnant. All that pregnant woman energy must have been overwhelming.
Without going into every detail of my son’s life with me. Let me say that we’ve been through a lot of shit and good times together. We’ve both grown as people and I am so proud of my son. He’s thoughtful, kind, honorable, smart, and has a kick ass work ethic. At 20, he’s found his career and loves it.
He doesn’t need me anymore and sometimes I feel like I’m an unnecessary, nagging, old hen.
Years ago, I used to go to a drumming circle and journey. I’ve gotten a lot of good insight and inspiration. Especially when it came to dreams. After a long process of dealing with crap at his High School. I had a dream.
In this dream, I was in a primitive tribe. My son was different and often shunned by the other youth. A bit of a wild dreamer, he was. It was time for his coming of age hunt with the others. I was a tribal shaman and that gave my son some slack. As the youth went off on their hunt/test, I followed. Worrying about my son. I didn’t go far before a big, female bear began to follow me. In a loving and playful voice, she said. “Little sister, slow down. Let me eat you.”
Now, in a certain, shamanic tradition, being eaten by a bear in the dream time is a major, transformation. I knew this in the dream and told the bear I was too busy at the moment. I needed to make sure my son was going to pass the test and be welcomed into the tribe as an adult. The bear kept following me. Like Pepe Le Pew, she playfully bounced along and begged me to let her eat me. It was my time.
After a long chase, she had me tired and convinced being eaten was in my best interest. As I tumbled though her digestive tract, I could hear her soothing voice. “Your son will be fine. You trained him well. Now, let him go and get on with your own journey.” After being passed, I got up just in time to see my son had led the hunt and was now bringing a large deer back to the tribe. He was fine.
Well, I won’t be alone. I have a semi-feral cat named Kismet Ninjapuss to keep me company. A beautiful, Tortie my son rescued a few days before leaving High School. We’ll have adventures and sleepy afternoons. My son will have his space and I can cook for my own tastes. I’ll have a clean bathroom and kitchen!