How to fill an empty nest? With beach volleyballs. Of course.
I coach a recovering alcoholic and she tells me about the power and confidence she felt when she was drinking and how much she misses that. I wonder about my own power and confidence. I thought it would come back when the kids left for school.
But now when people ask me how I’m doing without the kids at home, I have to admit there’s not much of a change: I still worry about being able to function in the world like other adults, and I still worry that my kids will feel alienated in the world because their mom is so unpredictable. The one big change: I no longer feel like living in my home is a performance-art piece about good parenting.
I tell Nino, “I’m not a person who should live alone. I stay up until the sun rises. I eat the same thing every meal. I spend all day hoping the kids will call.”
Nino points out that I just missed two calls from the kids. Then he says, “Is there anything I can help you with right now?”
I know he doesn’t want to live together. I’m trying to be happy with what people can give instead of always asking for more. I say, “I’m happy that you’re going to keep the schedule of coming to my apartment even though the kids aren’t here. That’s nice.”
The first few times he comes over I make dinner for us and I cry.
I ask him if he’s been crying.
He says he thinks he got his crying out when we got divorced. He said he cried each time he had to say goodbye to the kids.
I say, “What? You did that? Then why did we have to get a divorce? No one wanted the divorce, not even you.”
He says, “I’m not talking about it. It’s not helpful now.”
We have a month of firsts: The first time he hung out at my apartment all day even though we were not really doing anything and there were no kids. The first time he came over at an unscheduled time just to talk. The first time he sat next to me on the train even though there were seats that would have allowed him to not touch me.
Then there was the first time I told myself it’s okay for me to be close to him. I told myself there are no rules for empty nests except that each of us has to fill our nest somehow.
On Saturday morning I arrange to be part of a foursome to play beach volleyball. I ask Nino if he’ll come with me.
He asks why I need him to go. He says, “Are you worried you’re going to get hurt? Do people play when they’re as old as you are?”
“I think these people are so bad that it won’t matter how old I am. But I want you to come in case I’m wrong.”
It feels so familiar sitting with Nino on the side of the court waiting for my game. This is where we started: I was his pro beach volleyball girlfriend.
After the first two points I’m so tired I feel like I’m not even in my own body. My skills are much better than everyone else’s, but my body forgot how to run in the sand. I leave early and hope no one will remember how tired I was. Because I want to come back next week.
On the train home Nino shows me pictures he took that make me look confident and powerful.
I hear a girl near us say to her friend, “I applied everywhere!!! I’m just waiting to hear back. I’m just so excited for something to work out!”
I used to be like that. I’d send my ideas everywhere. I was all about persistence and odds. And I basked in the feeling that I was surrounded by lottery tickets I conjured up myself.
I expected that I’d go back to being that sort of person after my kids grew up. But now that the time is here, it turns out that I already have winning tickets, I just need to appreciate the windfall.
It’s kind of Nino to keep you company.
I get him when he said he got his crying out while the kids were still young, when it was time for them to go back to your place. I got so used to the kids leaving for their mom’s back in the day that when they moved out for good, it wasn’t that huge of an event. I kind of felt robbed.
Most people tell me it’s nice of me to be so forgiving of Nino. So I like that you see the other half: that it’s nice for me that Nino is keeping me company. And of course he has to do a lot of forgiving as well. I remind myself of that frequently in order to keep myself honest.
I read the Inc.com article (July 2012) that you wrote and linked to above. I loved it.
This part – “Here’s where I couldn’t hack it: I hated crushing my opponent. It was not fun. So I would let them back in the game. My team hated me for this. I noticed that the Olympic team has no problem shutting me out–insider lingo for not allowing me to score even once. For them, every point was the last point in the Olympic finals. That’s how seriously they played.
For me, it was about process rather than outcome. I noticed that I was more interested in having a life of routine — drill after drill, day after day, with specific goals that I met by executing my plan.
There are some situations in life where process is what matters. Getting onto the pro tour, for example. It was all about diligence and commitment. But once you’re there, if you are going to win you have to want to win more than anything else in the world. ”
What I especially loved is the article is consistent with other pieces you have written over the years. It reminded me of another post you wrote titled ‘How to know if you’ll be good at sales’ – https://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2009/11/19/how-to-know-if-youll-be-good-at-sales/
This section – “I talked to Richard Goldman, COO of Birkman International, a company that helps businesses make intelligent hires by using the Birkman Method for personality assessments. Goldman says, “If you’re a great team player, you probably don’t belong in sales. Salespeople are in it for themselves. They eat what they kill.”
I asked Goldman if he thought I could develop these skills, and he says that our underlying needs are set by age five or six, and our usual behaviors are set by age 22.
So it’s pretty clear to me that I’m not a salesperson, and I’m not an eat-what-I-kill sales person, plus I’m not going to become one either. I’m more of a convince-someone-else-to-go-out-and-do-the-killing person.”
While your power and confidence may no longer be on a beach volleyball court, it remains in your ideas and words. I always enjoy reading your posts.
As for eating what you kill, I think you’ll like this short read – ‘You Can Only Eat What You Kill: The Startup Mentality’ – https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/you-can-only-eat-what-kill-startup-mentality-goglobal-advisory-yu47c/
Mark I often feel like you’re the historian of the blog. Thank you for your dedication!
It’s beautiful how you’re allowing your journey to unfold with a strength and openness to what the future holds.
I went back to playing badminton and ended up with plantar fasciitis. But I’m figuring out how to keep playing because I really enjoy it. I hope you can keep playing volleyball.