My heart hurts

I knew it was going to happen at some point.  He'd realize what going away for high school really meant.  

This boy who is on the edge of becoming a man has a depth that makes me proud and makes me hurt.  He thinks and feels and processes so much.  It is painfully familiar.
He knocked on our door last night after 10 and had a nervous, shifty presence.  He said, "There is something that has been bothering me.  Is going to St. Paul my choice?"

It is. 

And it isn't.

And "Why do you ask?  What's up?"

What we talked about  next was heartbreaking to me and clearly weighed heavily on him, my first baby.  

I wonder if we messed something up along the way.  If we didn't encourage his friendships enough over the years.  If we sent the message that his friendships here won't last if he goes away for high school.  If we unknowingly made him think it wasn't worth the effort to make friends here.  I think we failed him somewhere.

He said he read a book awhile back.  I remember him reading it.  I thought I would probably like it too.  It was about a boy who was a star football player and found out he had cancer in his leg and had to have it amputated below the knee.  This boy had just two friends who stayed with him through it all and remained his friends after. He said he started thinking about his friends after reading it. Started wondering if he didn't play football or basketball, who would his friends be?  Which of the kids he now calls friends would still want to be his friend?  He realized it's may not be many.  He is getting attention at school these days for his play on the football field.  He is struggling with his identity.  He said he worked so hard last year to become a better basketball player because he saw how the kids who were good stuck together. He wanted a crowd to stick with.  He wanted an in.                                                           

It never occurred to me last year that all those hours at the Y, were because he wanted a friend.  And now that he feels like he has friends, for maybe the first time in years, he is scared to leave them. That they will stop being his friends, if he goes away.
And I couldn't promise him that they wouldn't.  Big tears from my man-child.  He hurts thinking about losing friends he feels like he put so much time into acquiring.  I hurt thinking about all the time he spent thinking being a better athlete would equal having better friends.

Identity is tricky at any age, but middle school, especially.  He's struggling coming to terms with the fact that he is more than a boy with a ball, yet that is how he has defined himself and how many others have seemingly defined him or valued him.  He feels an enormous amount of pressure to do well on the field and the court. For him, his friendships depend on it.

We talked a long time about friendships.  The variety, the quality, the value in friends who see beyond your surface.  We talked about this town and it's people who are born and raised and how hard that is sometimes to never quite fit.  To recognize that even though he gets to go to St. Paul next year, the friendships that are of value here will remain and the friendships he forges there will be solid and long-lasting.  We talked about how to maintain those friendships through the changes that will come.  We talked about identity and what that means at this age and any age.  

He has a deep need to connect with people.  He is a deep thinker, a philosophical processor.  We reminded him again and again that his value does not lie in what he does.  All the qualities he possesses are valuable. He is a hard-worker. Passionate. Intelligent. Kind. Patient. And for now, the field and the court is where he can express those characteristics, but he is all of those things and more whether he is playing ball or not.  
As much as it hurt to see him struggle, I hugged him tight, and felt so thankful that he is able to share his turmoil with us.  The lessons he's learning now are not easy.  I am still navigating friendships that are at times difficult and complicated.  I wish I could tell him it all gets easier, but it probably won't.  It feels like a big decision to leave home and go away to high school and it is and as much as we want him to be a part of that decision, it's too much pressure for him to have the final say.  So we said, yes, he'll go.  But it's not final.  If it turns out to not be the best place for him, he can come home.  He needs to be able to make connections here that he can hold on to and be confident in.  

I imagine this will not be the last conversation like this as the year goes on.