A Level results were announced and I drove a very nervous Son, and even more nervous mum, (me) down to Basingstoke to get his results from college. Thankfully his results were ok, better than anticipated given that he’s struggled with depression all year and has only been to college for about 50% of the course.
He passed comfortably. He has grades he can ‘do stuff with’. That’s all good.
The problem is: what stuff?
What should he do now?
He rang through to Clearing to see if he could grab a place at the Universities that had previously offered him a place, but whose entrance requirements he hadn’t quite managed to achieve. Unfortunately they withdrew their offers and no place could be found for him. I guess we could have appealed proffering letters from the college and from the doctor, but we haven’t done so and now it seems any places have all gone.
So what next?
He’s considering options back home and in Australia (where he has rights to study as an NZ citizen) but it’s still all so up in the air.
I know it’s his problem, and not mine, but I also know that this is one of those pivotal points in life. I remember back to my own university entrance results and how the whole direction of my life changed with them, from becoming a nurse to going to university to study English Literature.
Without that change of direction, so much wouldn’t have happened. It’s fair to say I wouldn’t even be writing here on this blog, if I had failed to get into nursing school because I was two months too young.
I know all of this, deep down but somehow knowing it isn’t calming my anxiety for him. It feels as if a hugely monumental thing is happening in his life – this first step into real adult life – and I know I have to stand back and offer support but let him make the decision.
I head know this. My heart begs to disagree.
My heart wants to make the decision for him using all the knowledge I’ve gleaned over three decades of adult life. My heart wants to make it easier for him. And while my head and heart argue I’m useless at everything else, permanently distracted and vaguely irritable. I wish I could cut that emotional umbilical chord but I simply can’t.
I am in a lamentable state of flux.
Image: Flickr CC http://www.flickr.com/photos/carowallis1/