I’m feeling like a helium balloon that has lost its lift, hovering somewhere between the ceiling and the floor, the curled ribbon dragging the ground, the shiny color of me now a chalky version of myself.
A blue funk. That’s the only word I know to describe this. Tears keep pushing at my eyes. Sighs keep escaping from my mouth. I want to close all the blinds, crawl under the covers and sleep until I wake feeling new.
Why So Blue?
A few days ago my parents flew into town for a visit. And today they left.
There is nothing I can do about the feeling. I am a grownup adult type person. Very grown. Very up, usually. Why would I miss my Dad and Mom like this?
It happens every time I have to say goodbye to them. I know it’ll happen like I know the sun is going to come up in the morning. I can’t head it off at the pass. I can’t sidetrack it. I can’t make it not happen. I’ve tried to analyze it. I’m trying again, right now, as I write.
Theory 1.) My parents seem to view me and treat me like I’m this amazing person. I feel like I’m on a pedestal when I’m around them. I’m pretty sure that’s because the teenager I was and the who I am now are so diametrically different. I’m sure they wondered often if they would survive raising me. I turned out okay after a while though, in good measure, because they never gave up on me, loved me anyway. And, I didn’t want to disappoint them.
It is nice being seen in such a good light. I’m really not all that amazing. Okay, maybe a little amazing, since I have such great parents. It probably helps that I live two states away and they don’t see me that often.
Theory 2.) When I’m around my parents, maybe I’m more me than the usual me. Or maybe I’m the ideal me. Maybe I’m the best of both of them especially when we’re all together. Does any of that make sense? So when they go it’s like the best me goes out the door, too.
Theory 3.) Nothing else in the world matches the feelings between parents and children. There’s some connection, some energy, some something, that happens, that fills and feeds both the parent and the child when they’re together. Maybe it’s more noticeable as we get older. I’m not sure. I’m just throwing out theories here from my blue state of mind. The more I think about this the deeper the blue gets.
Theory 4.) If I think about these things from my own kids’ points of view, (which is nearly impossible and a bit frightening actually) I’m not sure any of these theories hold any water, or hold up, or hold out, or whatever cliché I’m trying for in this sentence. Do my kids miss me when I leave them? Are they more themselves when they’re around me? Do they feel loved and idolized? (I hope so!) Do they get some energy from me that make them more…them?
Theory 5.) I’m really just a five year-old kindergartener at heart. Every day is the first day of school. The world was so much safer at home, so much more manageable, so much more kid-friendly. Being around Mom and Dad makes me feel safe and loved and secure. When they go, that sense of security, of “all’s right with the world,” goes with them.
Where’s My Blanket and Lambie?
There you have it. I’ve analyzed it as far as my temporarily funky cerulean mood will let me take it. I’m thinking it’s probably a combo of a few of the above theories. Although, if pushed I’d say I’m leaning toward Theory 5.
Enough of the analysis. The only way to get through this kind of short-term blues is to ride it out.
I’m gonna volley this deflated balloon around the room for a while. Maybe I’ll eat a PBJ, break out the crayons and do some coloring, practice tying my shoelaces. Then I’m going to curl up on my bed and sleep until I wake up to a different color.