The next generation

I am having one of those days. One of those days that your mother theoretically told you about. The kind of day that my mother never did tell me about. Ever flailing in the face of somberness, sadness, confusion and worry, my mother presented me with no model for how to face darkness with wisdom and calm.

Since I am not interested in railing against it or running from it, I am here, feeling it. I've been here, in this somber spot, a little more lately than usual. Either that or I am just more open to it now than I have been in the past. It is hard to say. I have been trying to experience it in the moment instead of trying to step outside of it and figure out why and where and how long it is. It is an exceedingly uncomfortable thing to do.

It feels like giving up control of my steering wheel...and my kids are on board...and that, more than anything, frightens me.

So, what is concerning me these days? Lots of things. Chief among them is my son. I am worried about my son. Or, rather, I am worried about whether I should be worried about my son. And the meta-ness and confusion builds from there.

My son is sometimes so up and happy and goofy and carefree. My son is sometimes so anxious and twitchy and ticking and worried. The latter concerns me. The fact that he vacillates concerns me (why the vacillation? is it due to his external world or internal world that the switch comes on? Is it something about us, his family, that brings it on?). I worry that my worry is the problem and that these swings are more or less normal in child development. For every good few months, I've read, and experienced, that there can be a rough few months. As kids master a phase, they retreat, regress and subconsciously grasp that they are maturing. It is both exciting and nerve-wracking for them.

So, am I just not seeing the forest for the trees here? Am I so in the midst of a rough patch full of ticks and anxieties that I have lost sight of the pattern that I should calmly be helping him through? If I make too much of it will it make it worse? If I make too little of it will it make it worse?

And so goes my neurotic mind.

And believe me, it is not lost on me that I am so much like my son. But I feel like that is part of the problem. Someone not as much like him, not so passionate and prone to over thinking might handle this better from him. Someone not like me, might give the calm wisdom that would best help him through this.

Where does one learn that? Where do folks learn it when they are trying to not replicate their own mothering experience? Where do folks learn it when they are also trying to not swing so completely in the other direction to compensate? Books? I've tried books. I can gain some insights from books, but, I can't help but ask, who wrote these books? How do I know they know what they are talking about? How do I know their adult daughter isn't out there horrified that their parenting book is being read?

How can I trust? How can I be open? How can I do this while helping my children navigate the difficult times they encounter? I know there is no manual, but when I have to scrap 90% of what I experienced, I am making it up as I go along. When my instinct is strong and sure and things are good I am golden. When I feel disconnected from my instinct and intuition or my child is going through a rough time I doubt how to course correct. I doubt and doubt and doubt...

I want for my children to grow up as emotionally privileged as the next healthy family. Can I really stop the damage from previous generations from leaking through? Is it even possible? Do I carry the torch of dysfunction as well, and, like my mother, not even know it?

These are my dark feelings today. Dark feelings that I am not running from. Dark feelings that I am not raging against. Dark feelings that are mine, today. And now that I have put them down here, they feel a little less scary.