Advice for An Empty Nest: What to do in a House that’s Finally Quiet

Dear Gina,

I am facing the reality that I am a full-blown empty nester. Since my divorce 11 years ago, I have been apart from my child at least part time. I’d grown cavalier about the empty nest, thinking somehow I’d beaten the challenges of it. Now, my child is a young adult. On her own and forging her path. I miss her and am proud of her. I love all this time to myself and also don’t know how to fill it. Any suggestions on how to proceed? My heart is tender, and my calendar is open.

Dear Tender Heart, Open Calendar, 

Big hugs to you, my dear. This is a tough time of transition. When you say you thought you’d beaten the challenges of the empty nest, you remind me of me. When my daughters were growing up, even though I saw every transition coming, I still had all the feels when the time came. It’s a cliché: “Enjoy every minute, because the time goes by so quickly.” But it is so true! While raising our girls, one day just built upon the next. I was so immersed I could not imagine that it would ever change. And then it all changed – another cliché coming – in the blink of an eye. 

Life Transitions, Grief and Loss, And Finding Reasons to Celebrate

We think we can think our way through these transitions and therefore spare ourselves grief and loss. So, knowing transitions are on the horizon should be enough. We see the changes coming, and though many are welcome, the loss is real. 

Even in the loss you have mile markers to celebrate. You expanded your ideas of family as you co-parented with your ex-husband and created space for your daughter to know and love you both. You took advantage of the time apart and focused on some of your own interests, at a depth, I imagine, that may not have been available to you if your daughter had been living with you full time. 

This is the kind of gift that comes from a life circumstance you didn’t plan on. All the while, your relationship with your daughter grew and changed. You’ve modeled for her a woman who navigates life’s transitions with grace, and who loves deeply. Now, another big life shift is upon you.

The Gift of Solitude

Motherhood means we nurture and care for our wee ones, and that they are our life’s priority. I discovered that while the care of my children was my top concern, it also served as an excuse to not pursue my own aspirations. Now, in “life after kids” with my daughters grown and (nearly) launched, I’m able to explore talents and experiences I set aside during the parenting years. The opportunities are exhilarating, and scary sometimes. I see the possibilities now, and I get to choose. You have been given a marvelous gift; how it plays out begins with how you frame it.

An Empty Nest is Permission to Expand

So, how to care for the tender heart and fill the open calendar? I like how you’re leading with the heart. In an empty house, there’s freedom to let down in ways you couldn’t as a parent. When you need to cry, let yourself cry. Whether toast or ice cream or a banana is the main course for dinner, so be it. Exhausted an hour after you get home from work? Tuck yourself in. Sit in that moment of allowing and feel the weight of responsibility and caretaking lift from your shoulders. 

Allow yourself to fill the space you’re in, rather than letting the alone-ness shrink you. An empty home is permission to expand. Get creative and make each room as comfortable and life-giving as possible. Claim the spaces with artwork, mementos, colors, fabrics, lighting and plants that delight you. Make this alone space comfortable and joyous. Let’s not even call it alone space. 

You have been given the gift of solitude, and solitude is different from loneliness. Solitude presents an opportunity to know and love yourself. That is the heart of it all. 

As for the empty calendar, I could suggest social and service opportunities in your community, hobbies and exercises to try, and solo travel destinations. I suspect you’ve considered these. If anything is holding you back, love yourself in it rather than pushing yourself through it. Try what feels like a good fit, and step back from what’s uncomfortable. Let your heart lead. Do what’s interesting and entertaining for you, what makes you feel good for having done it.

Sadness and Spaciousness

Grief can be mysterious. We feel good one day, like we’re past it, and then the next a wave of sadness rolls in. Make your plans and give yourself permission to pass if the day comes and you’re running low. In this country, we rush to fill the space. For you, tending your heart takes priority over getting out there.

I’m so fond of this quote from the poet Pádraig Ó Tuama:

In Irish when you talk about emotion, you don’t say, “I am sad.” You’d say, “Sadness is on me” — “ta bron orm.” And I love that because there’s an implication of not identifying yourself with the emotion fully. I am not sad, it’s just that sadness is on me for a while. Something else will be on me at another time, and that’s a good thing to recognize.