Lori FreelandLori Freeland, a freelance writer from the Dallas area, holds a bachelor's degree in psychology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. In her other life, the one BK—before kids—she has worked as a social worker and a certified dyslexic reading tutor. Currently, she embraces her status as full-time homeschool mom to three awesome children. Her big dream? Becoming a Young Adult novelist, a goal she diligently pursues during the wee hours of the morning with help from a very large mug of coffee and occasionally some chocolate-covered peanuts. In addition to blogging and contributing regular inspirational articles to Crosswalk.com, The Christian Pulse, and Believe.com, she loves to mentor new writers and encourage people to share their life stories. As a member of the Cancer Mom club, she desires to connect with others in hopes of giving support to those struggling down the messy paths of life. You can find her hanging with the North Texas Christian Writers as a Critique Group Leader and Writing Coach or cheering on her writers on the Faith Team at The Christian Pulse where she recently took on the role of editor. She also loves to attend Society for Children's Book Writers and Illustrators meetings where she has begun a critique workshop for new writers. You can visit her website at LAFREELAND.COM.
- 2012 Aug 15
As I send my oldest off to college,
I'm beginning a new series that will post throughout the year.
I'm calling it my Separation Anxiety Series.
All the separation goes to Kyle and I'm stuck with the anxiety.
And I was doing better too. Hadn’t cried in over 22 hours. My eyes were just to the point of deswelling and the gigantic gaping ache in my heart slowed to a smaller, more tolerable throb.
Kyle’s text negated all that.
Not that I didn’t want to hear from him, because I did. But knowing he was so far away—an unhuggable, unreachable distance—made me want to wrap my arms around him even more.
Things change. Time grows our children. Life opens up new doors. I know this. I expected this. I even wanted this.
But still—change hurts. Even when it’s good.
Last weekend, my husband and I moved Kyle, my oldest child, to college. Four hours away. It’s what’s supposed to happen. I birthed him, I raised him, I loved him, and now I let him go. It’s the clichéd natural order of things.
Only letting go is not that easy when you actually have to do it.
When you have someone in your life for eighteen years and you worry about him, pray and anguish over his relationships, his heart, and his health for 6570 days, 22 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds, he’s kind of stuck to you. A part of you.
And that’s not easy to shake.
My role in Kyle’s life has changed. I know that. But it’s going to be a journey. At least for me. He’s having the time of his life and I’m glad.
I’ll let you know how it goes for me. I'm sure God has lots to teach me as I transition from hoverer to distant advisor.
Love you—I reread the text. Wiped away a tear. And straightened my shoulders.
Love you more—I texted back.
Some things won’t change and for that I’m grateful.
Have you ever have trouble letting someone go?