Fear of the Leap

A while back, someone asked if I was excited to be an “empty nester.”The question stopped me in my tracks. Almost literally knocked the wind out of me.

Why do we ask people this? What could possibly be exciting about the image of a mama bird alone, staring out over an old, used, empty nest that will inevitably fall apart with time?

And—does it really have to fall apart?

A Little Rewind…

My husband and I met when I was fifteen years old—at marching band camp. He was the new guy in our small Midwestern town, so of course, all the girls were talking about him. His smile stood out from across the room, and he had this deep bass voice that most seventeen-year-olds can only dream of.

We were friends first, dated for a couple of years, and then went off to our respective colleges. Years later, we reunited, got married, and raised four beautiful children together. We like to say we’ve been together “this time” for over twenty-two years.

The Fear Creeps In

A couple of years ago, as our youngest kids neared college age and we started discussing their next steps, something odd set in—fear.

I had spent so many years diligently preparing my children to become healthy, independent adults that I never stopped to think about what it meant to be one myself. I didn’t let myself imagine life after kids.

As the years turned into months, and the move-to-college countdown began, I realized I had some very complicated emotions about it all. I had developed a deep fear of the leap.

The Goodbye I Didn’t See Coming

I should probably point out that my youngest two moved into their first dorms—within days of each other. And I really, really liked these kids.

I know, we all love our children and (hopefully) like them too, but the relationship with these last two was something special. They were a product of the “COVID high school from home” years. We spent so much time together during that strange season that once the world opened back up, we just… stayed together.

They even chose to attend community college for a couple of years before moving away. These two are smart, quirky, and confident in who they are. We traveled, laughed, and built a rhythm that felt natural—and then suddenly, my two favorite young adults were packing up and moving out.

Grief in Disguise

For months—maybe even years—the fear I’d been ignoring kept popping up in strange ways. Crying over a sappy holiday commercial. Putting off planning vacations because the kids wouldn’t be with us. Hyper-focusing on dorm supply lists as if perfect packing could soothe my heart.

I’d think I was fine, and then a well-meaning friend would ask, “What are you going to do with yourself now?” Cue: panic attack in the car. As if I had nothing to add to the world beyond mothering.

Each time someone mentioned move-in day, I’d smile and say all the right things about being excited for them… while screaming inside. There used to be a moderately successful, healthy, happy, middle-aged woman in there somewhere—what happened to her?

So… What Was I Afraid Of?

It wasn’t my marriage. I’ve been lucky there. After twenty-two years, my husband still makes me laugh until I can’t breathe. He’s still the man of my dreams, and his voice still gives me chills.

So why wasn’t I counting down the days until it was just the two of us again?

After all those years of raising four kids, we were suddenly being handed the gift of time together—and I’d barely noticed.

What was I really afraid of? No one needing me to cook dinner? Fewer grocery bills? Having only my own doctor’s appointments to schedule? Finally having time for margaritas with friends? Watching the sunset on our porch—without interruption?

The Empty Nest Mindset

That’s the duality I’ve discovered in these “empty nest” years—and what I hope to explore here in this blog.

I think many of us (especially Gen X parents) have been conditioned to pour everything we have into our children, losing pieces of ourselves in the process. But there’s so much ahead of us beyond our active child-rearing years.

Why don’t we talk about that?

Why do we assume this new chapter has to be sad—or empty? Maybe the nest isn’t empty at all. Maybe there’s simply more room in it now—for dreams, adventures, and rediscovering ourselves.

What’s Next

Maybe we’ll start new careers—or new blogs. Maybe we will travel somewhere we’ve never been. Maybe we will reignite old friendships or deepen the ones we already have. Maybe we’ll even get to know those birdies who flew the nest in a whole new way.

As I fumble my way through this season, I’ll be sharing the ups and downs here. My hope is that we can laugh a little, reflect a lot, and support each other through the messy, beautiful middle.

Welcome to Empty Nest Mindset.

Follow