My Son Just Left Home
He's 17. On Friday I dropped him off at university for his first year.
We spent most of the week prepping - creating lists, packing, shopping, packing, checking lists. It was stressful at times.
He's not the most organized person, I'm better than I was.
He's prone to procrastination and forgetting, and my dance was to maintain a gentle forward pressure without losing my temper. I shared my impatience and worry with him that he wouldn't be ready in time, in the way I know how that minimizes the other person experiencing blame.
I could see that he was feeling overwhelmed with what needed to be done and the fact that he was leaving home.
I was feeling some of that too. We spoke a couple of times about the mixture of excitement and worry and sadness we were both feeling at this massive milestone in both our lives.
A First Day and A Last Day
The impending drop-off day was a last day as well as a first day.
It was the last day of almost 18 years of him being under parental care. The first day of him stepping out from under the my roof or his mum’s fully into independence.
During the week I was experiencing an intense compression of time. I remembered him being born, holding him for the first time, pressing a tiny oxygen mask to his face after meconium had been cleared from his throat, and a flood of milestones and memories of schools and holidays, drop-offs and pick-ups.
On Thursday night, the night before he left, we had a long talk.
Since he was little we've talking about sex and relationships. I wanted him to move into and through adolescence with more information than I had.
Some of those conversations have been awkward AF to get started, some were conversations he initiated and I had to fight the urge to snap back with a snarky retort to cover my embarrassment and shame of talking about sex stuff. Instead I'd take a breath and accept that yep right now I'm going to have a conversation about wet dreams with my teenage son because he's asked me.
I know how quickly shame can be triggered. Sex and sexuality is a minefield of shame triggers. I grew up with my fair share, some of which I'm only beginning to defuse.
It's so easy to pass on shame to our kids in response to a genuinely curious question from our kids with an eye-roll, an embarrassed laugh, a snarky quip...anything to deflect our embarrassment.
I've done work to be available when he's asked his questions, and step through my embarrassment when I've felt it the right time to provide him with some guidance in matters of lust, desire and the heart.
As he was first entering adolescence it thrust me back to being a similar age and stumbling through powerful feelings of lust, confusion, heartache, heartbreak, rejection, betrayal, ugliness, incompetence, jealousy, loneliness.
I thought about ALL THE SHIT I had to figure out myself as I went through crushes, relationships, rejections, sex. I recalled my parents' few and cursory efforts at providing advice, and the sense of having to go it alone, figure it out alone, suffer it alone.
And I realised I was sitting on a goldmine.
Us adults are a fucking goldmine of information about sex and relationships based on our own experiences. We can offer more honest, accurate, and helpful information than our kids learn (and what we learned) from TV, movies, pop songs, books, porn, friends, our parents.
The only thing between him having to make this long, lonely and confusing walk himself, and having at least some information and the lived experience of having these conversations with his dad as someone to turn to for support and advice, was my awkwardness and embarrassment. The possible reward for him not having to endure quite the same depth of confusion and discomfort as I did made it clear what the next step was.
The Sex and Relationship List
After a few years of having these conversations here and there, initiated by both of us at different times, I created a list of the points we'd covered, and other points I wanted to cover. I posted questions in a couple of online groups - one for men, and one predominantly of women - asking questions like 'what would you tell your 13 year old self about sex relationships' (my son was 13 at the time), 'what did you wish you knew about sex before your first time'.
As you can imagine, I got back some real gold, and common themes emerged. The most relevant stuff made it to the list for my son. I printed a copy for him, and first discussed it a few years ago.
In preparation for his departure this week, I updated the list and was planning to have one last talk the night before he left. But the same day, he mentioned he'd just recently read the old list, said it was helpful but there was stuff he hadn't fully taken onboard yet.
It was the perfect segue to say 'we're going to talk about it tonight'.
Our talk went well. And expanded outwards. He asked a good question about sex. It was a question that would feel awkward for most adults to ask. But the question came easily to him and I knew it was because of the years we've spoken about this stuff. It's a safe space. I'm not going to be awkward, I'm not going to tease him and make him feel stupid for asking.
I also told him of the wonderful qualities I saw in him, how well they would serve him, where I saw him as being ready and capable, where he can trust himself. He said 'thank you, that means a lot'.
I encouraged him to step forward and discover more of himself and for himself, this is the time.
When our kids leave home, there’s something that’s both deeply personal and ancestral. There’s the wrench of him leaving, the boy I know so well he’s part of me.
And if I breathe in deeply, if I really feel inside I can sense the presence of fathers before me, seeing their sons off, as they were once seen off, back and back through time. This is just what happens. This is how it’s supposed to happen.
We raise them and prepare them and in some form or other they leave.
The Longest Hug
With the awareness settling in of this being our last night under the same roof for sometime, the knowledge that when we next see each other he's going to have changed, we hugged. It was the longest hug we'd had in years, perhaps in over a decade. The longest since I could pick him up and tumble him around.
I felt my sadness. I felt my yearning for him to be happy and fulfilled, to find his calling and his passion. I felt my doubt of having prepared him adequately for this big step into the world.
I felt this parting would stretch and pull at my soul and heart in new ways.
He's as tall as me now (actually taller but I'm not ready to admit that), and his body felt skinny and strong and frail all at the same time.
As we hugged he said 'thank you for making me do the boring stuff'. He was referring to the domestic things that I've been teaching him and requiring of him over the past couple of years and months - cooking, dishes, cleaning, laundry. Words I didn't expect to hear. Maybe in a few years from now if I was really lucky. But not right now. It felt good to hear them. A validation for pushing through his reluctance and surliness that he often expressed when I asked for his help.
As we hugged, I could trace this very moment back to the mid '00's when I was feeling lost in my life, disconnected from myself, from my roles as a husband, father, uncertain of my path forward, but knowing that I wanted, at the very least, to show up for my son more fully. To be more present for him as a dad.
Showing Up
I didn't know what that meant or looked like. I just knew there was more. I could sense it. I could glimpse it.
That choice led me to therapy, men's work, counselling, self-study and to training and becoming a relationship coach. It led me to acknowledging places in my life where I had been living way out of integrity, and facing up to it. It led to carnage and turmoil and growth. It led to recognising that my marriage wasn't working and wouldn't work despite years of the best efforts my ex and I were capable of. It led to having uncomfortable conversations and stepping through discomfort.
That choice has led me to the incredible and abundant partnership I have today.
To rich and evolving relationships with my kids.
To enriching and supportive friendships and community.
To very happy clients who are navigating their relationships with more clarity and confidence than before.
It’s Begun
It led to a beautiful goodbye with my son that was full to bursting with love and gratitude.
I texted my son late in the evening on his first night in his new digs. The first msg is mine, the second is his...
It made my heart sing, and a few tears fall in gratitude for him and us and our unfolding journey as father and son.
MATT IS A RELATIONSHIP COACH TRAINED AND CERTIFIED AT THE RELATIONSHIP SCHOOL BY JAYSON GADDIS, FOUNDER AND HOST OF THE SMART COUPLE PODCAST