Advice for my rearranged life

Dear Empty Nesting Professionals,

I need answers. Tom and I are new to being parents with no kids in the house, so I want insight from people who have lived through this transition and have stopped crying about it.

Here’s the backstory: Last Friday morning, our 20-year-old brought his pillows down from his bedroom and stuffed them into the last remaining nook and cranny in his Mazda. He and his dad had spent the previous night loading his stuff into the car in what looked like an elaborate game of Tetris – moving one box here to slide in another one there and then stacking three more levels on top of it. When they finished, there was barely enough room for our six-foot-two son to squeeze into the sliver of space behind the steering wheel. We bear-hugged him goodbye and watched his car disappear down the street on a two-day drive to Michigan.

Then I went inside, laid down on the kitchen floor, let myself cry, and tried to remember tips for deep breathing and calming anxiety. Not only had Jack just left home for his junior year, but our youngest daughter Kate was scheduled to move into a first-year dorm that same day. I was staring down the barrel of two emotional goodbyes in less than 24 hours—including our baby bird, which would leave our four-bedroom nest completely birdless. It felt like too much.

If this all sounds ridiculous and overly dramatic, that’s because it is. The past several months have shown me that “ridiculous” and “overly dramatic” are two of the roughly 200 symptoms of perimenopause – a condition that often happens at the same time a woman’s grown-up kids are leaving home. The cruel timing makes it hard to manage the emotions stacking up like a tower of delicate teacups barely balancing on the edge of a wobbly table. One little bump and the whole thing could come crashing down.

After a short meltdown on the kitchen floor, I dragged myself up and loaded the last of our daughter’s boxes into my SUV. She and her service dog, Mac, woke up happy and excited – ready to embrace a new adventure. Their contagious enthusiasm carried us through a day of unpacking in her dorm room. When we were done, I forced myself through a quick hug goodbye before sprinting to the car, where I cried the whole way home. Tom drove in stoic silence, most likely praying that Kate would be safe and that he’d survive the emotional tsunami happening in the passenger seat.

So, here are my questions: Is this going to get easier? And how long does it take until “easier” shows up? Does rearranging the house help? Because I’ve been reorganizing almost everything for the past few days, hoping that if the house looks different, it’ll mask the Grand Canyon-sized absence of the people who grew up and left it.

If the junk drawer becomes orderly, will my life make sense again? If I convert the kids’ old playroom into my office, will I find the new version of my life in there?

Thankfully, our oldest son, Adam, is with us for 10 more days. Then he, too, will move back to school for his final year of college. He’s an old pro at this now, so he’s not nervous. He has learned how to make his own home away from home, and we’ve had more practice at releasing him into the world to take care of himself.

It feels right that he’s here for this transition because he was the baby who turned me and Tom into full-time parents. Now, he’s witnessing our first tentative steps into this strange, empty nest. He played board games with us last weekend to keep our spirits up. And he brings me take-out cheese dip when I’m weepy. He’s our proof that kids grow up, leave home, and will come back for those times when their parents need them most.

If you’ve navigated this transition and already found the silver linings, send your guidance our way so we’ll know what to watch for. Until then, I’ll be here crying over my keyboard and rearranging the kitchen cabinets.

Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.