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Like I said in part one, Mama wasn't playing games. I refused to raise an emotional cripple.
Near the end of my son's eighth-grade year, we sat down and I said, "You know, because of the divorce and the problems you've had with your dad, Mom's been kind of easy on you. I haven't bugged you about your grades, haven't made you do your share of work in the house, but this is fair warning that all that's about to stop. You had your break.
"My job is to prepare you for real life. Life is hard. Sometimes it sucks! But we must take deep breaths and move forward, and when we do life gets better."
Life is not an old-fashioned sitcom.
While we do have sitcom moments, my life is not a sitcom, and so that little speech didn't instantly transform him to perfection or us into a wonderfully well adjusted, post-divorce family (Things don't work that way on The New Adventures of Old Christine either, but you know what I mean.). The speech didn't work like magic, but it did mark a turning point for all of us, daughter included. I made it clear that while I'll give comfort for real emotional crises of which teenagers and young adults have many, I would not aid and abet wallowing in self-pity.
For instance, if my son came home distressed because he'd overheard other students talking about spring-break trips with the entire family, dads included, and brooded about how he didn't get to go to China or skiing, then we'd talk over his anger and sadness, but quickly move forward to what he could do, how he could plan, to have the life he wanted. If he wanted to go to China, I'd say, then he should do well in school, go to college, and plan a trip to China. The trip will not be what it would have been as a family of four including his father, but it will still be an enjoyable experience if he plans for joy.
In addition, he didn't lose only his father's presence following the divorce, but also a materially abundant lifestyle. Noticing his groaning about money and occasional whining, I worked on gratitude with my son, teaching him to be thankful for the life we have--materially, emotionally, and spiritually--and to stop focusing on lack.
I also wanted him to practice forgiveness and learn to face difficult moments with aplomb, to maintain a relationship with his father; so, I'd get on his case about not returning phone calls to his dad. I understood his anger but worked with him to instill that we cannot let anger consume us.
Life is hard and teenage years are the pits.
Like I said, my son is now 16, and so his road ripples with teenage angst that has nothing to do with the divorce. Currently he's facing another challenge. We may be moving, and so, he will miss friends again. He's handling the possibility well, and I'm witnessing improvement in his attitude toward the world around him. I'm also having to do less prodding to get him to return calls to his father. He's becoming less prone to see the worst in himself and darkness around every corner.
His grades have improved. He's more confident, becoming more aware of his own value separate from "a family." As hard as it is for me as a mother to push the little bird from the nest, I've encouraged him to see himself as an individual: "Love us, your family, but prepare to soar in your own life." This is one message I want him to receive.
As I work to ensure my son's spiritual and emotional health, I fight my own demons. Any advice I give to him, I examine myself to see whether I too must heed it. And I'm always on my guard for that post-divorce, guilt-sliming demon, that creature that prods us to buy gifts not out of love but guilt or to be too lenient when love advises strength and toughness.
Laughter is healing.
I also cultivate laughter, one of the best gifts we have, beyond love. Both my children like to laugh, but my son in particular has a sharp wit. And that's why we can join in laughing at shows like The New Adventures of Old Christine even when the characters seem better off than we
