Square One

I am beside myself right now. I let my train leave the station this morning. This time my son was on the tracks. (If you haven’t been reading this blog and you want to know what I am talking about, you can read the post on Jan 6) Now I’m not saying I went on a wild ride over the Rockies with him clutching the cow catcher (or worse), but that is not to say it didn’t feel like that to him (or worse).

He has been efforting change all over the place, and his father and I have told him how great that is. This morning I was upset with him for neglecting some important school things.

The school structures that he has put into place are newly constructed. The cement in the foundation isn’t completely set yet. And, because of the way I dealt with him, I feel like the Big Bad Wolf who has blown his house down.

I worry that I moved his growth back to Square One.

It’s been so long that my train left the station (relatively speaking for me), that I did not even realize it until we (the train and I) were well underway. Since I now know where the brakes are located, I stopped it way earlier than I have before, but the train had already left the station…there was momentum and drive behind me.

I ache that the surgical removal of this tendency in myself was not as complete as I wanted to believe. Even though I understand that real transformation with loved and intimate relationships is the true test of change and that it is all a try and fail and try again process; I ache that it got away from me in dealing with my son.

So now I, too, worry that my growth has moved back to Square One.

But I did learn something very important.

We are both feeling a tremendous amount of stress around his schooling and his ability to navigate the demands of high school. Moreover, if we can’t handle the pressures of high school in our relationship, how can we handle the pressures of life beyond the diploma? What comes up for both of us is fear. I fight; he flights, but all we are really trying to do is protect ourselves.

All I know is this. The first thing I am going to do is recognize that I can’t surgically remove my train. What I can, and have been doing, is build new structures around my train to house it where it is safe and contained. The next thing I can do is recognize that my structures are as new, and wobbly and tenuous as my son’s. We both need to be gentle with ourselves and each other.

Finally, I can forgive myself, apologize to my son, get out the hammer and nails, survey the damage, and start re-building.

And that’s exactly what I am going to do. I have no answers, no solutions, but I have some tools. And I’m going to piece it back together, one sturdy, rustproof nail at a time.