Covid Series 2 of 2. First story here!
Stacey and I get home from Covid testing.
Living room. Family meeting.Â
Jonathan walks in like heâs headed to his hanging. His tall frame stooped over. Head, hidden in his favorite grey cross country sweatshirt. Deep sighs. He gets over to me and gives me his Iâm-hanging-off-of-you-my-life-is-over hug. Which almost takes me down now, because heâs almost half a foot taller than me. I peel him off after a bit, and we sit on the couch. Heâs still glued to my side, head on my shoulder.
Jonathan(another sigh): So, when do we find out?
Stacey: Four to seven business days.
Jonathan: sigh
Me: Try and think of it this way: we have lots of time to clean our house! And, when quarantine is over, we can have our friends over to our spic-n-span house!
Teenage eye-rolls all around.
Barbara: Mom, please No. What about my friends? Can I see them outside?
Stacey: Sweetheart, youâre 13, and we trust you. But, no. We have to quarantine âtil we know for sure.
Barbara: That sucks.
Barbara, unphased, hops off the couch and skips back to her room.
That is one resilient kid.
The real tennis match begins
Jonathan: What about Friday.
(FYI, our 14-year-old son has started to ask his questions like statements.)
Stacey: Today is Wednesday, so odds arenât good.
Jonathan: You realize this is killing me.
His eyes tear up.
Stacey (shortly): Jonathan, you could have seen Jacqueline at any point. No, we probably wonât go over. Itâs not safe.
Jonathan: What about getting her a present.
Stacey: Jesus, Jonathan. You canât do that, either. You canât go in Starbucks or Walgreens or anywhere.
Jonathan throws up his arms.
Jonathan (choked up): Great. My life is over.
Stacey: Youâve only been dating through texting. You donât need to go overboard. Itâs not like itâs an actual relationship if you havenât gone on any dates. Is it?
Jonathan stands up, gives Stacey the stinging-eyes-of-death, storms out of the room, and slams his door. We immediately hear loud techno music.
(Internet search: healthy relationship book for teenagers)
A version of this conversation plays out at least once a day for the next 5 days. With increased levels of door-slamming and yelling. Stacey is thinking about camping in the freezing backwoods. Anywhere but here.
45 minutes later
Jonathan comes into my room while Iâm reading. Full-body flops on the bed. Strategically places his head so I can run my fingers through his hair. Hmmm. So many similarities between my dog and my son…
Jonathan: Any news?
Me: Probably not today, sweetheart.
Jonathan: You realize how hard this is for me.
Me: Yea, Iâm sorry. I know you feel stuck. But you probably wonât see Jacqueline this weekend.
Jonathan: Itâs over for me and her anyway.
Me: Why would you say that? You just started dating. Try not to worry so much about what could happen. Or did happen. Just Enjoy Today – like our kitchen towel says. Like with the unlimited Facetime and insta-chat and Ticktocking!
Jonathan (rolling eyes, smiling): Mom, youâre embarrassing me again.
Me: Just be glad Iâm not having you do meditations?
Jonathan (leaving very quickly): true.
A version of this conversation plays out at least 3 times a day for the next 5 days.
For the next 5 days
I try to maintain peace in the realm. So, I do the thing I dread the most: mediate. I am the go-between for Jonathan and Stacey.
So, if I side with Stacey, Jonathan feels the world is against him. Really, Iâm gonna side with him. He has less life experience. So, when I side with Jonathan, Stacey wants to leave. Scary side-note: I can never tell if sheâs kidding or not.
I lay awake at night, worrying. Circular thoughts:
Heâs so fixated on this girl. Every c-h-a-r-a-c-t-e-r she texts. Or doesnât. I wish he would go to CoDA with me. Maybe I can translate the materials for teenagers. But, the main problem is that he has low self-esteem. If I canât get his esteem up, then he wonât know what he wants to study in college. Then he’ll end up in a career he hates, AND I will have wasted thousands of dollars!
((So many internet searches I canât even.))
Maybe I need to write a book about how I went from self-hate to self-love. It only took me 10 adult years. How long is that in teenage years?
God, can you PLEASE help me find better boundaries while I try helping Jonathan. I might die of sleep deprivation, if not. Thank you.
The End
7:13am on the 6th business day.
I settled in my desk chair. â caff coffee on the candle warmer. Fairy lights on âparty modeâ in my Apple Knockers jug. My Darth Vader pajama pants on, ready for battle. Feet toasty warm in my slips. My Dr. Seuss door knocker set to âNO! Do not enter! Do not look! Iâm in my office, writing a book!â
Time to grow some trees.
AND there it is: the testing results in my inbox.
I do not open the email. My heart pounds. I bound upstairs.
Me (yelling): Stacey! Results came!
Both kids emerge from their rooms. We all gather around the kitchen counter.
Me (checking my phone): negative.
Glimmers of hope flash around like we might have a Golden Ticket.
Stacey (checking her phone): negative
ALL: Weâre free!!!
After a volleyball-team hug, our family disbands. I catch up to Jonathan and put my arm around his shoulder.
Me: Hey, sweetheart. This quarantine has got me thinking. (handing him a piece of paper) Here are some meditations for you to do. And journal about. So we can discuss. AND, if it doesnât help, letâs talk about seeing a therapist, okay?
Jonathan: Okay, Mom. Thanks for all your help.
Hmmm. Maybe heâs not as far off the path as I thoughtâŚ.
Back to growing some trees!
POEM: ingredients
To grow depressed
Denial
Distraction
Distortion
Self-Hate
Distance, Distance, Distance
To grow anxious
Assume
Accuse
Obsess
Repress
Rewind, Replay, Fast forward
To grow up
Respect
Repeat
Responsibilty
Sacrifice
Decisions, Decisions, Decisions
To grow thanks
Listening
Curiousity
Honesty
Faith
Let it go, Let it go, Let it go
To grow joy
Presence
Breath
Humility
Laughter
Play, Play, Play
To grow love
Patience
Grace
Compassion
Vulnerability
Acceptance, Acceptance, Acceptance
To grow teenagers
pretty much
all of the
above, Every
Single Day.
Ready, or, Not
Mom-munity Builder
Teenagers, man. They’re like the last level in a video game. I have to have the silver sword, extra life medicine, the universal key, and my red armor to get to the room. (Yes, I love-love-love Nintendo 64 Legend of Zelda.) But, when I actually feel ready, they add a new enemy, like shield eater. And I have to start all over.
There’s nothing that tests all that I’ve learned and makes me question my sanity like my kids. But I would give my life for them. They bring immense joy. And pride. And gratitude. And love.
Prompt: In the poem above, do you have other ingredients that help you grow Thanks, Joy, Love, or Teenagers? And, if you’ve experienced Anxiety or Depression, do those ingredients resonate with you? Are there others?
