The process of applying to college is one that calls out for medical assistance. My son is working on his applications and I am not allowed to help him, yet he wants me to sit close by should he need me he can yell out questions he needs assistance with. I sit, he works, I comment, he rolls his eyes, I think about taking a Xanax.
I think all parents sending their kids off to college should get a prescription for Xanax and a bottle of wine. By bottle of course I mean case. I am stressed out and the calmer my son is, the more frustrated I become. He is mellow and going with the flow, while I am acting as if the world will implode if we don’t get it all done perfectly.
I am very organized and good with direction, but when it comes to his applications it is as if they are written in a foreign language. I need to read the questions several times to understand what they want. I think I am so stressed out about his leaving I am unable to properly focus on the thing that will cause him to leave. Damn it.
I know this is about him and following his dreams, but can we just make it about me for a minute? What am I going to do when he leaves next summer? I imagine I will wander around aimlessly touching all of his things, wait for him to call, worry he is not eating enough, think about whether or not he doing laundry, and again need a Xanax.
If admission is the first step to recovery, then I must admit that the admission of my son will cause the admission that I need a Xanax. By need of course I mean want. I don’t really need to be medicated, but I think it might help. I go back and forth between wanting to yell and cry. No good can come of that. I am just not ready.
To clarify, I am ready for him to start the next phase his life, I’m just not sure I am ready to start the part of my life that does not involve taking care of him everyday. I cook and clean for this child daily and I am going to have a lot of time on my hands when he goes away to school. If I worry when he is here, what will happen when he goes?
As I type this I am looking over at my little baby and I see a young man. When he asks me something I thank God he needs me, and when he is working quietly I thank God I have raised him to not always need me. He is my heart and I must remind myself to enjoy these moments and feel pride more than angst. Easier with a Xanax.
I’m not much of a pill taker and can generally cure all that ails me with an aspirin, but I am not ruling out the need for a Xanax between now and the time my boy heads off to start his collegiate life. I am going to try to stay clam, not yell, embrace his independence, stop crying, feel pride, and know we will make it through if we keep the faith.
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