So a few months ago, I was in a funk. My life, as I knew it, felt very strange to me. Where I could typically see the road ahead a bit, I saw only fuzzy murkiness. (I hate fuzzy murkiness.)

Usually, when I swing in and out of moods or my hormones go up and down, though I’m sure my kids can tell a bit that I’m going through something, we sort of have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy, even though they’re in their mid- to late-teens.

I assume they don’t want to know, or it would be inappropriate for me to share, and, well, they’re teenagers, so it’s pretty rare that they check in with how I’m doing.

Except this time. Because this time I told my kids on the way home from school that though they could totally talk and tell me about their day, I was feeling kinda off and I didn’t want to talk, but I’d listen.  So, I heard the normal rundown and we went about our business when we got home.

Then we went out to dinner, like we do every Wednesday night before youth group, and I was just sort of sitting there.  I was even bumming myself out, to be honest. I still didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t feeling any better (it had only been two hours, so I wasn’t expecting to, but still), and my daughter rested her head on my shoulder, in sort of a, “I love you, Momma” kind of way.

And I took a deep breath and said, “Do you guys want to know what’s wrong?”

I think they were surprised I asked. And they surprised me right back by saying yes.

So I tried to explain it, the best that I could. How my life felt odd to me and how I was frustrated and a bit scared and felt confused and just plain weird and I didn’t know what was coming and how I hated not knowing what was coming.

And they both nodded and said, “Me too.”  In fact, my daughter said, “That’s how I feel every day.”  Now, I know they do not feel the way I feel because our life circumstances are completely different, but you know what?  Oh yeah.

Even though I once was a teenager, I think I forget that what I’m feeling, in a very profound way, is what they are feeling as they try to look down their roads and can’t make anything out either.

And I was blown away by not only their interest in me, but their immediate resonance with what I was poorly trying to describe.

Yes, we quickly switched subjects, as I can only assume it’s a bit unnerving to have the head of your household basically say she feels like she’s sinking, but we had those few moments together, my children who are on the verge of adulthood and me.  And no one can ever take those away.

What can you appropriately share with your children today that will bring you closer or make one or both of you feel a little less alone?

If this post encouraged you, you’ll want to check out “Moving on as a Christian Single Mom”, found here.