Space

In August, I witnessed the most amazing thing. The mother of one of Brooklyn's classmates, looked down at her five year old in the school yard one morning and said "You need to go? Okay, I'll wait here for you." The little girl skipped away, clear across the massive school campus to use the restroom by herself. My brow probably furrowed a little, what if she gets lost? What if she doesn't find her way back? The mom caught my eye and said "Oh! We free range."

Oh, so there's a name for it? Free range? Is that what people are calling it these days?

 I don't free range. These aren't skills I know. I am paralyzed with fear. Terrified for keeping tabs on small humans with weak social smarts. Freaked the fuck out that I'll take ten steps ahead of my five year old and turn to find her no longer there. This is a symptom, a result. It's not an inherent force. I spent months and months living on the fringe of fear to the point that I now only just realized that my normal day to day state is simply a baseline of mild anxiety.

When she was little, I used to step into a party, hand her to the nearest outstretched set of limbs and wander off. I'd generally find her, hours later, fed well and fast asleep. My ability to let her go like that was a skill that I was proud of. It is a skill that went away the moment she got sick and I realized that I was suddenly the mother of two really vulnerable children.

And so it goes, three years later, I've totally forgotten what it feels like to be distant from them. To be gone for more than a work day or to be further than six feet from them in a department store. To watch them fall and get hurt without at least somewhat freaking out internally. I feel like I took on a responsibility when Brooklyn got sick. I understood that it was serious shit, and I needed to step up and not take the task of getting her better lightly. That meant protecting her. It meant obsessing over her.

This isn't a realistic way to live. I mean, eventually she's going to need some space. Hell, *I* need some space. Who wouldn't? So over the last few months, casually while walking through a market or department store, I'll say to the girls "I'm going over here to the next aisle. You stay right here with the cart." I can hear them, sometimes not. But it's a good exercise...you know, to let them out of sight for a few minutes without allowing panic to set in. It's been useful in preparing me to exit the picture longer term.

Which brings me to today! I'm currently on my seventh vacation day away from home, away from my children. I have trustworthy people watching over them, making sure that vegetables and homework happen on a semi regular basis. But, God, I haven't had a true, honest vacation in years. I mean, I've snuck away for a night or two. But I haven't done more than that since I got married and I definitely haven't left the country since having children. It's good. It's ALL good. They are good, we are good, I am good and I truly hope the good stays forever.

Anyway, the importance of space and self care...if I had one thing to preach to my fellow cancer moms and dads, it would be this. Go out, get some air. Put some space between you and the rest of the world. You need it, you deserve it and, contrary to your internal objections, you aren't a terrible person for taking it.