We had been on the road for five weeks, and were in Ogunquit, Maine.
The plan was that evening, we would meet with two of my colleagues from work for dinner, at one of their homes, in York. The next day, we would make the final leg of our travels north, and drive to Acadia National Park before looping back through New Hampshire and Vermont on the way back to Texas.
Acadia had long been on our bucket list to visit. The previous summer, we had made it to the tip-top northwestern corner of the country to visit Olympic National Park. When we had pulled our plans together for the summer of 2021, making our way to the tip-top northeastern corner of the country to visit Acadia National Park was a must-do.
On this particular day, my objective was to go visit the town, but Carolyn needed to get caught up on several assignments that she had neglected to turn in, because she struggled with how to do them (vicious cycle) and were late. She also needed to retake a few tests for a higher grade - and the clock was ticking. Thump, thump, thump Marissa Tomei, a la "My Cousin Vinny" style ticking.
If she didn't complete the class with a passing grade within the next ten days, she would fail it again and would be required to take it a third time, during her junior year ... in addition to the math that she would be taking in 11th grade. Per the guidance counselor, if she planned to graduate on time - she had to do it this way. Math was never my strong suit in high school, so I could totally relate to her despair and hopelessness, and yet, I was frustrated. She needed more perseverance, I needed more patience.
Neither was happening.
Stepping back and looking at the situation, I see that it was a bad parenting decision putting her in an online summer school. She should have been enrolled for the in-person session, but that class would have interfered with the family's summer plans since it spanned the time that we would be gone on the trip. I was annoyed, bordering resentful it had gotten to this point.
On closer inspection, I wasn't resentful just at Carolyn for failing math, but more so at myself that I wasn't a better parent to support her throughout the year of online schooling, and now with summer school. Why couldn't I go help my one lost sheep?
Where was my mercy?
That day in Ogunquit, Charlie being the consistently more patient parent than me, decided that he would remain in the camper with Carolyn and work on math all day, while I took the other kids in to town for sight seeing and a lobster lunch. It was such a beautiful day, the sun was shining - the birds were chirping - and I was cloaked in anger because this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, damn it. ARGH!
Several hours later, we returned, and Charlie and Carolyn had wrapped up two lessons on math. There were still five more to do. And then the retest. And then the cumulative final. But they were done for the day, and wanted to ride their bikes in to town with the family. Logical choice when you are a logical person.
But I didn't want to go.
Instead of embracing the opportunity to enjoy the day and go for a bike ride with my family in a beautiful town, I was simmering that more math wasn't finished. This class would continue to hang over our heads and more days of truncating our summer vacation activities and splitting the family up would happen. To add insult to injury, I likely wasted hundreds of dollars on a summer school class that wouldn't count. Next year, we would endure more stress as Carolyn (and by extension, me and Charlie) would have to double up in math. There would be costly tutors and more hammering to do work she didn't want to do, I was sure of it.
Pending how math the junior year goes, there's a very strong potential that she would have a delay in graduation for lack of credits. The thousands of highly motivated and better parentally-encouraged kids in The Woodlands were surpassing her in the class ranking. The distinct possibility was starting to emerge that she'll never go to college. Never have the ability to support herself. Live at home forever. Charlie and I will both die of equilateral trianglitis and who will help Carolyn?
Down and down trapped in a tangled web of despair I shall go.
Not even for a moment did I contemplate how incredible of a young woman she is, how kind - and gentle - and compassionate. How absolutely BRILLIANT her mind is, when it is positively engaged, interested, and encouraged. Nor did I recall the fact that some kids (both of her parents, in fact) were late bloomers in
school - neither Charlie nor I got any traction with particularly good grades until college. Nonetheless, I subjected myself to all kinds of mothering guilt and hindsight
torment because of the problems my 16-year old was having in one class.
ONE CLASS.
It's amazing how stress can make you lose all perspective.
And yet, I was mad. Spitting mad. But as mad as I was at all of those potential outcomes, I knew in my heart that I was the most mad at myself that I was not being more patient with my teenage daughter who needed me to reassure her, and give her the tools - time - opportunities - that she required to be successful. I knew better and yet could not stop myself.
Alas, on that day in Ogunquit, I kept beating myself up with thoughts including: Why did I ever go back to work? Surely she'd be a better mathematician
if I devoted more time to helping her learn her numbers and sort blocks and was home everyday waiting when she got off the bus to help her navigate her homework and schedule. Why didn't I let the children finish Montessori? Surely she would have had more
academic prowess if I'd just kept her in the program until Kindergarten.
Why did we home school her in eighth grade? That was a colossal fail. Charlie was too distracted and laid back and I let work rule my life. Why did I sign her up for online summer school? Why - why - why?
There was no denying it: my bad choices had hijacked her life and I'd never forgive myself for it.
That evening, we went to my friend's house. We put on our happy faces. We had dinner. We came back. The next morning, my friends came to visit us and see Quarantinny before we made our way north. When I said goodbye, I hugged them and told my one friend who was visiting from Texas, I'd see her in August, when we were all back home. The kids started school on the 11th. We'd be home by the 5th.
Then we hitched up and drove north to Acadia National Park.
What was supposed to be a wonderful drive - with us blissfully looking out the window at the passing northeast Atlantic landscape - was punctuated with teenagers bickering. Get your feet off my seat. Don't touch my headphones. Stop looking at me. Nobody wants to watch that stupid movie, duh. Why are you breathing so loud? I'm trying to meditate and just let it all pass like the rising and falling waves on a beach, but like a volcano, I can feel the magma rising. Bubbling to the top and hot.
In between my deep relaxation techniques (none of which were clearly working very well), I'm shooting glances back to Carolyn, telling her to work on her math. What are you working on, now? How many questions have you finished? Do you understand it?
The opposite of helpful - I KNOW.
But ... what's the alternative at this point?!
We stopped for lunch at Red's Eats. A MUST-STOP everyone told us, on the way north. They have the best lobster rolls in the entire state of Maine and by extension, obviously - the universe.
Since Charlie and Carolyn had missed lobster the day prior, and I could eat lobster for the rest of my life - we stopped. The line went up the block and around the building. Also, they only took cash, and the nearest ATM was nearly a mile away. Do we sacrifice the parking spot that we'd just found to drive to the bank, or do we walk?
William and Henry had just gotten in to an altercation, which was very rare for the boys who are typically great friends, but I suspected had something to do with close quarters and the awesome vibe I was throwing off. (Mother guilt for the win - again!) Much to their chagrin, I nominated the boys to walk with me to the bank. WHY ME? WHY MUST I GO? Why don't you bring the girls?
Bicker. Bicker. Bicker.
My decision that the boys would be the ones to come with me, was only solidified the more they pushed back. And so it is, Charlie stayed behind with the girls and the dog in line - and I ventured off with my two glowering boys in tow. We meandered through the streets of town. We found the ATM. We meandered all the way back. By that point, we'd had a chance to talk about the importance of family ties and brotherhood, friends come and go - but siblings are forever. The boys made amends and were amicable surely for my sake.
By the time we returned, an hour later, the line had barely moved. We were told it could be another 2-3 hours to place an order. We eyed the other lobster shack on the opposite side of the road, and split up. Whomever got to the front first would order. We had another four hours of driving before us and despite missing out on the "Best thing in Maine!" we didn't have all day to wait.
After another 90 minutes, the line on the opposite side of the street got to place the order first. After shelling out over $400 for lunch, and feeling extremely frustrated that:
1) We waited that long for a lobster roll that we could literally get ANYWHERE in Maine;
2) We were sucked in to the tourist trap thinking this was something we must do (but then didn't even actually do because we didn't want to wait all day!)
3) We spent an exorbitant amount of money for something we could make ourselves, for a FRACTION of the cost.
After a disappointing lunch, we hit the road again. Driving past scores and scores of lobster shacks with NO lines which I called out each time we passed. THERE'S ANOTHER ONE. YAY EVERYONE LOOK! So much fun! What a wonderful family vacation with everyone bickering and mom lamenting about the money she spent on overpriced lobster rolls taking breaks only to yell at Gracie to practice her Geometry! Enabling the childproof features, I locked the doors for fear that the kids would throw themselves out of the moving car. Or, open the door and push me out.
We drove for several more hours, and needed to make a stop at the grocery store for some critical items. It was getting dark so I wanted to run in and out, quickly. A couple years ago, all four kids would have jumped at the chance to help me shop - especially if I promised I'd buy them something. This year, despite the lure of a treat - they wanted to stay in the car. "Wait, where are you going to be mom? In the store? OK, we'll stay here. But if you're going to be here - sure, we'll go in the store! Let's shop!"
I dragged along William, that understandably was a bit resistant in that moment to help his mother, who by all accounts, was on the verge of going completely OFF the rails. I told him in a commandeering tone that we would divide and conquer so we could get out of the store and to the campsite and set up in the remaining daylight. He was annoyed and probably scared.
You might not believe it, but I was even more so. Not just because the kids were making my head and heart hurt with the bickering (what if I just collapsed from an aneurysm?) - but because the store was dismally stocked. The one thing they had in surplus were packs of rolls for $0.50 that we'd just had our $80 lobster roll sandwiches on. ARGH!
It looked like there had been a run and shelves were disorganized and barren. We were standing in the baking aisle. I was looking for something, walnuts, maybe - I can't recall exactly, but I know that they were a critical ingredient to something I was preparing. High and low we searched, up and down the aisle, and WE COULD NOT FIND THE NUTS.
Finally, I asked William to go ask for help because time is of the essence. He rolled his eyes, sighed deeply, and slunked off. A few minutes later, he returned, with a tone in his voice that any parent of teenagers would immediately recognize and recoil at. When you're teetering on the brink, it was even worse to hear, "Mom. There is no one to help and even if there was, they probably don't know where the nuts are - so let's just leave. Right now. OK? Let's go. This is such a waste of time."
Instead of taking a deep breath, and letting the moment pass, a blob of magma spewed out and I snapped at him, "Why must you be such an ass?"
We've never really talked to our kids like that and William looked shocked - and hurt. Every siren and alarm in my mothering body was going off, "WOOP! WOOP! Cap the flow! Cap the flow!" but I ignored the alarms and more lava spewed out. "You kids can be so useless. Heaven forbid I ask you for ANY help. I'll find them, myself."
You know it's bad when the awful words keep spilling out and you don't even try to stop them.
"You just keep standing there and do nothing. OKAY?"
Finding a clerk, I asked where I could find the critical ingredient. They led me to them, I picked up the bag - glared at my son - and checked out at the front. Shaking off any chivalrous offers of help from him I carried all the bags to the car. Without the cart they dangled from my arms turning my limbs purple and making my hands go numb ... but as a world-champion martyr, I welcomed the pain. We drove to the camp, we set up, and by the time I went to bed - I'd spoken no more than 10 words, slaying my family with my agitated silence.
Why was I angry again? I couldn't exactly remember, but even though people might know they should STOP when they're lost in the wild, how often it happens that they just keep wandering in, deeper and deeper until they veer off a cliff and perish. These woods were so deep and dark and I had no idea which way was up, or how to get out.
The family pressure was mounting - I felt guilty for being such a crank with them - and the work pressure was also mounting that even though I was getting every thing done that I needed to do (and then some) I wanted to diffuse any potential perception that I was not productive or was wasting time. In the strive for perfection, I worked myself to the brink of exhaustion - constantly.
Charlie was trying to coordinate our bike riding schedule and at some point, around 10:00 AM, the plug on the volcano blew and I lost my ever living mind. Quarantinny shaked with my rage; kids ran out of the camper and to the other side of the campground. Every bit of magma came out of the chamber. If it was a true volcanic eruption, it would have been plinian.
Carolyn's struggles with math. Elizabeth's running coach that was laying on intense heat that she needed to be back in Texas that week, if she wanted to race with the varsity team. William's snarkiness. Henry's sneakiness. Too much screen time. Too many distractions and busyness. I'm supposed to be happy but am an angry martyr. Work pressures. Juggling all these critical life priorities and trying to bring my best self to everything I do for ExxonMobil.
Too fast that time is going by, like rapid fire - swirling past - kids will be licensed soon, we need to get another car or two. I need to work even harder to prove my value and worth, and keep my job, thereby making as much money as possible so that I can pay for the new cars - and college - and a new master bathroom - and all the things that signal and deliver (???) a successful life, while ensuring Charlie and I are secure in our retirement.
Fear. Fear. Fear.
IT WAS ALL FEAR.
Fear that I wasn't good enough on any front. Fear that I was failing everyone, myself most of all. Fear that we wouldn't have enough money for all the things we wanted to do or needed to do. Fear that the kids are all growing up and will be gone soon and why must life go so fast, and why can't I just relax and enjoy this moment? Why am I holding on to everything so tightly?
What the hell is wrong with me?!
Deep in the woods I was so lost. Regret looking back, anxiety looking forward, teetering on the edge.
Like a blown out caldera, my energy was gone and I was left feeling completely depleted and deformed. I tried apologizing, but couldn't comprehend what I was apologizing for - so I could only say, "I'm sorry I'm such a nightmare. I feel so broken and I don't know how to fix it. I honestly don't understand what is wrong with me it's like I'm lost in the wild and should stop and be rescued - but keep going in deeper and deeper. Please have patience with me, I'm trying to re-orient my map." My beautiful family embraced me in tight hugs and reassured me that it was okay - they forgave me. I wept.
Charlie and William packed up the bicycles and we went for a ride around the breathtakingly beautiful Schoodic Peninsula. I was still feeling depleted, and yet - I could sense that there was still a latent anger. The slightest thing could trip me off, again. My simmering rage was terrifyingly disturbing.
As I pedaled, I prayed to God like I haven't prayed since I asked to be a mom.
"Dear God. PLEASE HELP ME. Please give me a sign. Please free up my life and let me be the best person, wife and mother I can be. Please grant me the wisdom to recognize an opportunity when it comes and please grant me the courage to take it. Please remove the burdens so that I can fully love these people that you have blessed me with, as best as I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can."
Less than a week later, I received the call from ExxonMobil that I was ranked in the "NSI: Need Significant Improvement" category. Despite all the incredibly hard work, excellent deliverables, and soul-wrenching sacrifices I'd made over the past year, it happened. The worst thing that could have ever happened in my career at ExxonMobil and with NO forewarning. Just a few months earlier, my managers had told me that I was a rock star and bringing awesome value to the corporation. And now this which made absolutely no sense? Although it wasn't a termination - it was the closest thing and it was such a crushing blow to my ego and spirit because from my perspective - it wasn't just about my performance at work.
It was about my performance in life.
I'd later hear that it was a numbers game. They had to put someone in the lowest rank. They didn't think I'd leave; at 50 with four kids I was a low flight risk. I really was a highly valued resource.
But on that morning, when I closed my eyes to digest what was being said to me by my managers, the voice that I heard was overwhelmingly, powerfully strong and I knew to the core of my being that there was no mistaking it.
Hey there Jen! It's ME! Remember how you asked for help? You wanted a sign?
BOOM. HERE'S YOUR SIGN.
Turns out that despite all that FEAR baggage I'd packed and had been dragging around with me, somewhere hidden deep in that baggage was the tiniest mustard seed of faith. And that tiniest seed of faith is exactly what I needed to nurture, so that it could grow and completely overtake my existence.
Thankfully, it took root pretty fast and gave me the courage I needed to realize I had been on the wrong train and needed to get off it, immediately. Not only did I need to resign from ExxonMobil and sell our Texas house, but we needed to get our entire family to a different environment - this environment.
My mental / emotional / spiritual state had become so unrecognizable it was frightening. The crazy, overworked, stressed out, fear-gripped life that I have been living, and dragging my beautiful family along on, required a complete overhaul.
Starting Now.
