“Really? This is parenting? The goal is that they leave, right? How is this fair?
Except that it is! He’s ready! By spring break of senior year, most kids feel like they’ve outgrown high school and are eager for a bigger world in which they can grow, explore, and truly inhabit their independence.
And maybe that’s what parents need to do too.
This isn’t the empty nest—it’s the exciting flight.
Both parents and kids are off to their new adventures, but the “welcoming nest” will always be here, no matter how independent they are. — Lori Gottlieb
Two years ago, my world changed. My firstborn son left for school, and I wasn’t ready. Oh, how I wasn’t ready. I remember the tears—the gut-wrenching pain of not seeing his face every morning at the breakfast table, the eerily quiet house, and the absence of that loud laugh of his (and of course the brotherly fighting) that used to fill our home. The loss felt overwhelming. I cried—a lot. The picture above is the happiest one I have – you don’t want to see the real ugly cry.
But, Lori Gottlieb’s words she shared last week were profound, and I wanted to share them with you. What if this isn’t an ending, but a new beginning? What if, as our children spread their wings and soar into the world, we, too, are meant to take flight in our own lives?
As mothers, we often wrap our identities around being their mom—kissing boo boos away, chauffeuring them to activities, helping with homework, navigating the emotional highs and lows of teenage life. But what if this moment, the one we have dreaded, was actually a gift? A time for you to rediscover you?
Instead of clinging to the empty nest, what if we reframed it as a springboard? The same way our kids are ready to explore the world, maybe we, too, are ready to embrace something new—new hobbies, passions, or even a side hustle. It doesn’t mean we stop being mothers. Our role will always be there, like the “welcoming nest” Gottlieb talks about. But now, with this space, we have the opportunity to grow ourselves.
Letting go is painful. I won’t gaslight you into denying your pain, you’ll never get that from me. Your feelings are valid, they are true, and you are entitled to them. But if you’re still walking around not feeling like yourself, know that with time, you will find joy again, not in spite of the empty house, but because of it. When my boy left, I picked up pickleball, drums (hello Sheila E, here I come!), and ahem, next weekend I am taking my first mahjong lesson! I published my book just as he was leaving, I hosted a wellness show as he was leaving, and I started the Busy To Bliss: The Self-Care Community Membership. I threw myself into my passions and launched new projects. And slowly, the house didn’t feel quite as empty anymore. It was full of possibilities—just like me.
I’m not saying the sadness disappears overnight. Even now, I miss him terribly—especially when something reminds me of this past summer when the four of us were all together, or thinking of the upcoming holidays when the house will be full again for a fleeting moment. But what if we let go of the belief that an empty house equals loss, and instead embraced it as a time to explore ourselves anew?
Our kids are on an exciting flight, but so are we. Can we think of this time as an opportunity to rediscover the parts of ourselves that we may have put on hold? Can we reframe it as an opportunity to reclaim our independence.
The welcoming nest is still here, and it always will be, no matter how far they fly. But now, we’re ready for our adventure, too.
So, if you’re feeling the weight of the empty nest—let yourself grieve. Feel the sadness. But don’t stop there. Flip the script. What’s your next chapter? What’s calling you? Whether it’s a new passion, a hobby you’ve wanted to explore, or applying for your first job since having your babies, this is your time. And just like your child is stepping into their independence, so are you.
This, my friend, isn’t just the end of something—it’s the birth of something new. And the sky’s the limit.
I’m sending you love and the gift of endless possibilities. Here’s to endings…. and new beginnings.
