My best friend is going through a lot. Her fifteen-year-old son, who, I might add, is extremely intelligent, is throwing his life away. Who knows how far this will go before he turns himself around. Having raised one teenage son, and in the process of raising two teenage daughters, I can honestly say that I don't understand them. I don't understand their anger.
When I think back to my teenage years, I still find no clues. I didn't understand myself then either. It can be such a horrible time in one's life, for both the parents and the kids.
I wish I could help her. But what? I have no answers, no wise advice, no great epiphanies to offer.
For some reason, I thought blogging about this might be a good idea, but I find I've got nothing but confusion and hopelessness. It's hard enough to give your trust away to adults. Harder still to give your trust and love to your child, who could very possibly, be smiling the biggest, widest smile on earth while lying to your face.
It is the worst kind of heartbreak, the worst kind of helplessness. Because they are a part of you, literally. Connected.
Here's to the all the parents and kids with broken hearts, lost in confusion and fear. Maybe the whole horrible process is necessary for disconnection to begin. But to the teenagers, a simple cut will do. No need to leave severed, bleeding limbs in your wake.
We'll let you go, we promise. We'll let you go in a slow, gradual process, with love and pain, as we watch you test your wings to fly.