Empty Nest? Or Open Door?
Last year, Gretchen Rubin wrote a widely circulated piece about trading the “empty nest” metaphor for something that “emphasizes possibility”: the open door. I somehow hadn’t read it when it came out, but being in the midst of emptying the nest/opening the door, it was unsurprisingly resonant for me to read now. Rubin writes:
I balked at empty nest’s connotations of futility or meaninglessness. No wonder so many adults, when and if they anticipate this stage of life, consider it with dread. I found myself searching for a different metaphor — one that could help me and parents like me not to languish but to see this new phase as a time of self-discovery, possibility, and growth.
For me, I’m not so sure the terms or framing matters too much. I’ve been genuinely looking forward to my kids being out in the world and the possibility more freedom & bandwidth, but I am still feeling allllll of this bewilderment and questioning:
That lack of foresight isn’t surprising. The tumult of everyday family routine can make it hard for people to step back and think about their lives. As I often remind myself, something that can be done at any time tends to be done at no time, and the demands of parenthood make it easy to delay facing what can be difficult questions. Am I living the life I want to live? Is it too late to start something new? Do I really want to be married anymore? Or simply: Now is it okay to eat meals in front of the TV?
Some people I’ve encountered whose children have left home have told me — in tones of shame, sadness, or bewilderment — that they’re reassessing long-standing habits and relationships. “I thought I had a group of friends, but I didn’t,” a woman seated next to me on an airplane last year said. Her social circle was tied to her daughter’s activities, such as soccer and violin; once her daughter graduated, those bonds dissolved. Some have reported a crisis of identity. “I keep asking myself, What am I for?” a friend said. Another warned me to resist the lure of all those hours freed up on my schedule: “I know you love to work, but be careful not to work all the time, because now you can.”
What am I for? Am I living the life I want to live?
Tags: Gretchen Rubin · parenting
Last year, Gretchen Rubin wrote a widely circulated piece about trading the “empty nest” metaphor for something that “emphasizes possibility”: the open door. I somehow hadn’t read it when it came out, but being in the midst of emptying the nest/opening the door, it was unsurprisingly resonant for me to read now. Rubin writes:
I balked at empty nest’s connotations of futility or meaninglessness. No wonder so many adults, when and if they anticipate this stage of life, consider it with dread. I found myself searching for a different metaphor — one that could help me and parents like me not to languish but to see this new phase as a time of self-discovery, possibility, and growth.
For me, I’m not so sure the terms or framing matters too much. I’ve been genuinely looking forward to my kids being out in the world and the possibility more freedom & bandwidth, but I am still feeling allllll of this bewilderment and questioning:
That lack of foresight isn’t surprising. The tumult of everyday family routine can make it hard for people to step back and think about their lives. As I often remind myself, something that can be done at any time tends to be done at no time, and the demands of parenthood make it easy to delay facing what can be difficult questions. Am I living the life I want to live? Is it too late to start something new? Do I really want to be married anymore? Or simply: Now is it okay to eat meals in front of the TV?
Some people I’ve encountered whose children have left home have told me — in tones of shame, sadness, or bewilderment — that they’re reassessing long-standing habits and relationships. “I thought I had a group of friends, but I didn’t,” a woman seated next to me on an airplane last year said. Her social circle was tied to her daughter’s activities, such as soccer and violin; once her daughter graduated, those bonds dissolved. Some have reported a crisis of identity. “I keep asking myself, What am I for?” a friend said. Another warned me to resist the lure of all those hours freed up on my schedule: “I know you love to work, but be careful not to work all the time, because now you can.”
What am I for? Am I living the life I want to live?
Tags: Gretchen Rubin · parenting
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