Today I will take the Christmas tree down.
Normally, I hate this task.
But this year it feels far worse.
See, today is the last day my 24-year-old son will live at home – at least if things go as “planned.”
As a single parent of a single child, I can definitely say that I am to-some-extent enmeshed, although my son and I have much different lives.
I work full time as a mental health professional (psychiatrist), and very much have a full plate and life, as well as independent goals outside of being a parent.
Yet the event feels painful – and poignant.
It’s been coming for years, and with COVID, housing for youngers has been slim. But today (tomorrow) is the day.
I will let you all know how it goes. I know there are a few good online forums for Empty-Nesters.
I am not depressed or anxious, just sad.
And the tree beckons.