Fall back ten and punt.
Florida gave me a lot. I got my degree. I gave birth to my youngest daughter. I found myself and solidified my identity. However, over the past few years I have been suffering losses. My oldest children are grown but did not leave the nest, and along with maturity there had been contention. I found myself giving more and more and receiving back resentment.
My oldest son left for Thailand 2 years ago and I was worried. How will this guy make it in a foreign country where he did not speak the language? He barely had a job. How would I ever be able to reach him there?
This was the beginning of my growing up and facing that at some point my little ones would have to leave the nest and flounder on their own in order to grow.
My oldest daughter had a baby not too long before that and I found myself taking care of her, the baby, and my other son still in high school. My youngest daughter barely got the attention she needed because I was pulled in so many directions.
I tried to do everything at once, including working on a degree in Math, working a full time job, taking opera lessons, and maintaining a household. At some point a house of cards will fall, and so did mine.
It hit me one day: I can’t do everything. Then I shook myself and tried to do more. I found love or so I thought and tried to juggle that, too. Well, a juggler can only keep so many balls up in the air, and unfortunately, mine came tumbling down.
I have a lot of energy, and well, I didn’t lose it. But I kept trying harder and harder. I was moving in circles and getting nowhere.
I had to sit down and rethink some things. Like, how when you do everything for your children, they naturally expect you to do everything. I had created an intolerable situation. I was expected to do everything, including cooking, cleaning, paying the bills, advising, comforting… everything!
I tried backing off. Having been raised by my mother to be a very nice person, I tried to be compassionate and understanding. I slowly clipped the apron strings. I suggested to my grown children that they move out, find their own place, and create their own life.
I was born with a lot of patience, but when I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough. After you’ve had enough, you endure. I endured. And endured and endured.
No one moved out. They were defiant in their resolve to maintain the status quo, that is, Momma does the cooking, cleaning, paying of the bills, advising, comforting… everything!
I suffered abuse. I received insults, and after all I’ve done for them, I had to accept their abusive friends and disrespectful behavior.
At some point you have to teach your abusers that they are getting nowhere trying to abuse you. My way of doing that was resisting. Arguing, refusing to move. By doing this I made my abusers stronger. My children were able to push harder and harder. Their muscles became that much bigger and I found myself unable to push back.
I had to learn to yield. Not to my children, but to myself. I had to begin to read the signals my heart was sending me. I had to cut my losses.
For several months I felt despair. Where did I go wrong? My youngest son would only voice his resentment toward me. My oldest daughter would only disagree with and defy me. I would cry when no one was near. I would call my mother and cry on her shoulder. I would call my friends and cry on their shoulders.
And one day I stopped crying. Instead, I took action.
I have a great friend named Ralph. He doesn’t like sports much but he will watch football occasionally. One day when we were talking, and I was listening, he told me about a term in football, “fall back ten and punt.” He told me sometimes you have to cut your losses and make the most of a situation. That punt, if successful, could give you the extra points you need to either give you an edge, get you above zero, or even defeat your opponent. And of course, friend that he is, he said I was a very strong person and was smart enough to do the right thing.
Well, coming from Ralph, that meant a lot because he’s a very smart person, a physicist and an engineer.
Fall back ten and punt.
A few months ago I attended a funeral… my uncle’s. I started thinking about my family and how these people I hadn’t seen in years showed me so much love and support. I thought about the possibility of myself going home and starting over. But I wouldn’t be starting over, I would be moving forward.
I have this wonderful car, a Ford Taurus station wagon, and it’s big enough to hold plenty of boxes. I packed my car with a few boxes and my suitcase, and kissed my loved ones good-bye. I decided I would move from Florida all the way to California… alone.
Having to leave my youngest daughter behind was very difficult because she is as mellow as I am and we have a lot of fun together. So I hesitated. We cried. We held each other. I told her I would return for her later. I hugged my oldest children and told them I love them. Then I started on my journey.
I’m in California now. I am working part time tutoring kids and about to pick up some of those balls that I had to drop before. Sometimes it pays to let go. Sometimes risks pay off, and I am sure everyone will be better off in the long run.
Lisa A. Trimarchi
