In a world where mental health seems to be on the tip of every tongue, I was quite surprised to get a note indicating that my company's insurance plan would no longer cover my “I function better without anxiety” medicine. Say what, now?
He was only a cat. Right? Just a cat. Not like a dog with all its unconditional love, cuddly coat, and endless loyalty. Or an actual person, God forbid. Just a cat.
Ten seconds ago, you were knee-deep in diapers. And now? That child (or children) are gone. You spent eighteen years preparing your tiny humans for a launch and, in the process, somehow, you forgot to prepare yourself.
I know we are all supposed to be offering odes to our college-bound children. I know, as we see the “time to move out!” pile grow taller, we are supposed to fully lean into our feelings of sadness and despair and question how, exactly, we will move on with an empty bed in our homes. It’s just that I am having other, more happy feelings, as well.
It’s an interesting view, as a child, to witness the decline of one parent and the subsequent rise of the other as a need for caretaking develops.