My son is moving out. I’m happy for him but I’m bereft. How can I stop feeling so terrible? | Family

My son is moving. I’m happy for him but I’m helpless. I know empty nest is a cliché but it’s out of control and it’s ruining my relationship with him. It’s like grief. I cry all the time. I can’t stand looking at old photos of us. I feel uncomfortable around him, like I’m longing for the old connection when he was little that he rightly moved away from.

I wasn’t a happy person before him and without him, I’m afraid I’ll go back to who I was. My partner is supportive, but I hide how obsessed I am about it because there are only so many times she can sit through my sobbing.. He is always present and wonderful; he has to go and live his life and I know he will come back. How can I stop feeling so bad about something that I know is good and right and natural?

Eléonore says: It’s okay to not feel good about something you know is good and right. This East a huge loss. One of the biggest chapters of your life is ending. Knowing that he deserves to feel free and happy, that doesn’t mean you have to; their experience doesn’t have to be yours. You don’t experience life through their eyes, you experience it as a parent. It means feeling more vulnerable, poignant, nostalgic and divided than the young person sitting in the protagonist’s seat. It’s just the condition of parenthood. You would be a very strange parent indeed if you and he had the same feelings about his life.

So how to do it? How do you make room for the good pieces?

First, accept your mixed feelings. I hear you when you say that you feel more consumed by this than you’d like, but that doesn’t mean the goal should be to eliminate grief entirely. We mourn the things we cherished. This feeling shows how much you loved having him with you. You want it not to consume you – or him – but that doesn’t mean you have to feel bad about your grief.. Sometimes feelings become more intense precisely because we are expected to firmly choose “happy” or “sad,” without ambivalence, so that each side begins to claim victory. If we could think calmly my final verdict is that I feel mixedsome of these feelings might arise from the howling boil.

Second, I heard real fear in what you said about “returning” to who you were before you were happy. I think this requires therapy, not just mental reframing. This can be a lot for your son to bear, knowing that he is the source of your happiness, and he will realize whether you tell him or not. Parents have certain obligations not to let their children feel the full force of their emotional vulnerability. Much like a teacher or therapist, it is part of good work to not let the people who activate these feelings know their full extent. And, as with a teacher or therapist, it can be very helpful – even responsible – to carve out space outside of those relationships to process the things they bring up. Things like what it means to you that he leaves, what this might do to your identity, especially if you hide the full persistence of this feeling from your partner.

Well, practically, keep busy. One of the best pieces of advice I ever received when someone went missing was to fill your days with things you can’t do when they’re around. Journey? A romantic moment at home with your partner? Interests that belong only to you? The point is to remind you that there are parts of you outside of them and that the world outside of their absence still holds pleasures in store for you that you haven’t had.

It’s okay to feel loss. The fact that you feel so much shows you how capable of dedication and care you are. You can also use some of it for this next chapter in your own life.

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