Showing all posts in Parenting

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Empty Nest

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

In January, Jason and I will have an empty nest when our youngest child, William, heads off to university in Victoria. We are not the first family to go through this phenomenon, and we won’t be the last, but it feels like a big change and I’m trying to make space to process it.

I’ve been struggling this fall with how to parent grown-up children. It requires a loosening of the strings that have held us tightly together as a family unit. But I don’t know how to navigate this stage.

Ava came home earlier this month for a few days during fall break. I did some Christmas baking and bought some festive holiday candy and treats like I always have. I planned an outing to a favourite Belgian waffle cafe to celebrate all of us being together. But somehow it felt different this time around.

The KitKat house I gave the kids sat unopened on the table. Every other year, Ava and William unwrapped this gift and then built it together, while Christmas music played. But this Christmas season, I put the kit away in the closet and I realised that both kids have other things going on now. This childhood tradition was just that: from their childhood, and now we were in a new stage.

I found this disorienting and lonely. I felt silly for trying to keep everything as it was, when very shortly both kids will be moved out of the house and be living in dorms with other students. But there are no rules for these big life transitions. We have to figure out how to behave as the changes are unfolding. And I’ve never been particularly skilled at letting go.

I’m experimenting with not texting Ava as much while she’s at school. She’s now in her third year of her theatre degree, and she’s busy, and somehow this year feels different in our relationship compared to last year. It’s strange to nurture my kids from a distance. To love them and miss them, but actively work at letting them know that it’s healthy for them to grow away from me.

Jason seems way better at this than I am. Maybe this is because his role as a dad was always a little more emotionally distanced than mine was as the mom. So now I’m trying to learn from him. I know it’s time to step back, and to focus more on my own career and what I might need now that the day-to-day hands-on parenting stage is over.

Some days this feels like freedom, and other days it feels like a loss. Like something really good and precious is over and can never be retrieved.

To fill the void, we decided to fill our empty nest with another kitten. Meet Pippin, who joined us earlier this month, at just 8 weeks of age. He’s cuddly and adorable, and he fills me with joy.

In Culture, Identity, Movies/TV, Nurture, Parenting, Relationships

Sincerity is Cool

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I dream of living in a world where it’s cool to be sincere. I’ve had this desire for about the last four decades, because our North American culture became increasingly cynical from the 1980s up to and including today, and it’s so much more interesting to be sincere.

This month, my husband went to California for a week and while he was away William and I watched a couple of movies from the 90s (a re-watch for me and a first-time viewing for my son). The first one was Jerry Maguire, from 1996, when Tom Cruise was young. I was also young when I watched the movie the first time, so watching it now, close to thirty years later, made me yearn for a time when the internet wasn’t the sole focus of our lives, and if you had a cell phone it was a massive, heavy brick with no real range.

I felt something in my soul cry out with joy when sports agent Jerry writes his earnest “mission statement” about how his industry has become too jaded. He decides the path forward is “fewer clients, less money.” He’s promptly fired, but an accountant at his enormous agency decides to quit, leaving safety and security behind to join Jerry and start a new company.

In the scene where Jerry leaves the company he founded, with all eyes on him, he states, “There’s such a thing as manners.” This got me thinking (and talking about this with my eighteen-year-old son, who is about to embark on his own adult journey outside of our home) about how little we discuss manners anymore in our fast-paced world.

But they do matter. Politeness matters. Sincerity matters. Like Dorothy’s character says, “Mostly, I just want to be inspired.” Isn’t this true for all of us? Even now, in 2024? I worried that William would find the sincerity of Jerry Maguire dated. Like a relic from the past. But he didn’t. I think the movie struck a chord, particularly when Jerry talks about how we live in a cynical, cynical world. It was true then and it’s even truer now. Even typing these words makes me both sad and angry.

After Jerry Maguire, I wanted to show William another favourite of mine from 1992: Scent of a Woman with Al Pacino. This is another movie where the themes centre sincerity and integrity as valuable commodities. Chris O’Donnell plays a teenager with a big choice to make, and as Pacino states in the stirring finale, “This boy’s soul is not for sale.”

I’m going to prioritise sincerity higher from this point forward. I don’t want to be afraid to say what really matters to the people I love. As I learned from Ferris Bueller when I was a teenager, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” I don’t want to miss it, by being too busy or by being cynical and rude. I long to hope again, to believe in something, to be earnest. To have such a thing as manners. To be inspired.

Who wants to join me in making sincerity cool again? What does sincerity look like to you?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Travel, Writing

Recalibrating Identity

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I just returned from a trip to Kelowna, BC where I was speaking at a teachers’ conference. In previous years, Jason has come with me on this work trip, but this year I decided to go alone. I listened to music, and some episodes of the Smartless podcast, but realised partway through the 5 hour drive that being alone in the car helped me to recalibrate a sense of my own personal identity.

As women, and mothers, so often our identity becomes intertwined with the identities of those we love and nurture. It can become challenging to separate out our individual needs and desires, because we exist in a context of our other relationships (and identities).

While driving to Kelowna, I found myself weeping for no apparent reason. I decided to let the storm of feeling pass through me, so I cried on and off while I drove. This continued even after I checked into my hotel room and ordered myself dinner.

As the evening progressed, I started to realise what was causing this storm of tears. I pulled out my journal and began to write. I worked through some things that had been building up during the summer. Questions about this new stage of life we’re about to enter as parents and as a family when William leaves for university in January.

I’m certain these feelings would’ve made themselves known whether I was at home or in Kelowna, but there’s something powerful about prioritising our own solitude from time to time. Over the two nights I was away, by myself, I could feel my identity recalibrating back into something I could recognise as my own.

Earlier this summer, we did a family driving trip down the coast to Los Angeles, one of my favourite places on planet earth. We had days of sun and soft sand and salty ocean air and palm trees and In-N-Out milkshakes. It was glorious. But it was a family trip, which meant all of our decisions were made together, with everyone’s needs and interests considered.

In the middle of August, I had a work trip to Alberta to speak at a writers’ conference and teach classes at a number of different libraries. For that trip, it was just Jason and I, which meant I left my Mom identity behind but remained in my Marriage identity. We had a wonderful trip, and I’m glad we went together, but I needed the alone time in Kelowna to understand the difference between solo trips and together trips.

When we give a lot of ourselves to others, it’s important to take time out for ourselves. I’ve been teaching this over the last six months in the form of nurture classes for writers and Nurture Starts with You sessions for teachers. But sometimes I fail to give it enough attention for myself.

It felt strange to say to Jason that I wanted to go to Kelowna on my own this time. He had loads of work to do and was happy to stay at home to look after Ted since William happened to be visiting his sister and some friends on the island when I was gone. But during my trip I realised how much it mattered that I listened to my own intuition. I gave myself time to feel things and a little bit of space and distance to better understand some relationship dynamics that were challenging to see up close.

This solo trip restored me to myself. It gave me time to reflect, and to cry, and to plan for the coming months. It helped me recalibrate my own sense of who I am.

How about you? As we say goodbye to summer and approach the brand new fall season, what steps could you take to recalibrate your own identity?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Learning to Receive

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Every year, I pick 3 words to focus on. For 2024, those words are savour, intentional, and receive. When I picked these words in January, I had a sense that receive would be the hardest challenge for me. And it has been.

But I’m getting there. I’m learning, ever so slowly, that giving and receiving is a dance. For so many years, I was spinning in circles on the dance floor of my relationships, giving and giving and giving and not believing that I deserved to receive from those who loved me.

It’s different now. And better. More balanced and fair. When Jason and I were going to marriage counselling last spring for the first time in our nearly 27-year-relationship, I said to him, “I want a wife to care for me the way I look after you.”

At first, he had no idea what I was saying. It took us both a long time to figure out that I had been so skilled at nurturing him, while simultaneously blocking any attempt he made to be loving and caring back to me. I created a pattern in our marriage where I gave and he received. Over time, this centred his needs and interests over mine.

I was resentful about this. And angry. Our relationship felt lopsided and unfair, and the worst thing was that Jason couldn’t understand why I would be feeling unhappy.

So much of our lives is invisible to us, because we create habits around our patterns. Then we behave instinctively around those patterns, until the inner workings of the relationship dynamics are mysterious to us, even though we were the ones who set those patterns up in the first place.

But 27 years is a long time. He couldn’t see that he was the centre of our relationship, and I couldn’t see that I had been the one to put him there. We were both so lost in trying to reach each other during that painful and isolating time in our marriage.

Until we took a road trip last spring from BC to Alberta, and talked with no distractions for hours on end. Suddenly, we both found clarity on a few of these key issues. He began to understand what I was asking for from him, and I could finally glimpse the inner workings of my inability to receive the care and nurture he had been offering to me.

We both started to change on that trip last June. And now, it’s more than a year later, and I’ve been learning how to receive the care I’ve been longing for. From Jason, from my grown kids, from my close friends. Even from my beloved cat, Teddy. I opened the door that I had closed in order to protect myself from being hurt or let down by others. I started to trust again, and it’s been a beautiful thing.

In my monthly zoom nurture sessions for writers, I’m amazed at how often this issue of giving vs. receiving is coming up. So many women are conditioned to give and not to receive. Sometimes it’s an issue of self-worth and protection, like it was for me, and other times it’s tied to a feeling of obligation, like nurture is a debt we owe to someone else.

I know there is a lot more to discover on this topic. I’m just scratching the surface of understanding how complex and nuanced giving and receiving can be, especially between women and men. I’m so grateful that Jason and I can both see the inner workings a little bit clearer within our marriage, which means we can talk about it openly and make small changes to be sure we are both feeling loved and loving within our relationship.

It’s been a revelation to me, how much stronger and more generous I feel when I practice receiving that love and care from others.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Travel

Another Bridge to Take

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

In the song “This Ain’t Goodbye” by Train, there’s a lyric that brings me to tears. Every time he sings, “Another bridge to take on the way to letting go” I think about how hard it is to release my grip when I want something to stay the same.

But as we all know, life means change. Stages and seasons and growth and pain and learning to let go, over and over and over again. I really kind of hate this. You’d think we’d get better at this as we age, but some things give me a lump at the base of my throat, and keep me awake at night, and cause me to cry when I least expect them to.

One of those things is my youngest child graduating from high school. William has his school dinner/dance this weekend, and his commencement ceremony in a few weeks. This is a big bridge to take. When Ava graduated three years ago, I thought to myself, “William is only in grade nine. There’s lots of time left with a kid at home.”

And now the day is almost here. It’s a time to celebrate all that he’s achieved, and how bright his future looks ahead of him, but as the mom and dad, it’s also a time to grieve the end of his childhood. I’m really feeling the truth of the saying, “When raising children, the days are long but the years are short.”

With all of these significant life transitions (or another bridge to take on the way to letting go), I do my best to prepare emotionally ahead of time. I really do. But there’s anticipation, and then there’s experience. The two are never the same thing, which is another thing I hate because I have no choice but to walk through it when the time comes. Advance preparation only gets me so far, and then the only way out is ever through.

Another one of these bridges I had to take this month was when Ava decided to fly to New York City on her own and stay in a shared-room hostel near Central Park. We suggested she go with a friend, but after our family Europe adventure last summer she wanted to try a solo trip. In theory, I thought this was a fabulous idea, and very brave when you are only twenty-one. In reality, I worried about her until she arrived home safely—feet sore from walking the city at all hours and full to the brim with excitement and stories and joy from managing everything on her own.

These are important foundational experiences for our children to undertake. They have to learn that the world is a big place and they can be smart and travel safely within it. But for the parents, this involves a lot of letting go. Of being there when our kids need us, but not taking over every arrangement so they have their own chance to lead and to shine. It’s exciting. And hard. It requires us to give up some semblance of control, and to lean into trusting our grown kids.

I’m taking a lot of bridges right now, with both of my kids, and I’m slowly (so slowly!) learning to let go of them. Like so many parents, I’m proud, and I’m sad, and I’m a bit lost, and I’m celebrating at exactly the same time. We never stop learning how to adjust to these changing seasons.

Happy graduation weekend to you, William! Congratulations, and we love you.