• Tuesday, March 09th, 2010
This experience is not unique to me. However, it is not one necessarily shared “out loud” very often. Last week, all week, my kids and I were at odds. We just could not seem to find a rhythm. We were getting in each other’s way – literally and figuratively – and could not communicate without setting off some sort of trigger. Okay, to be perfectly honest, the triggers were mine. They were just being kids. But at 11 and 13 it is no longer like living in house with children. They take up space. They have deep loud voices. They smell at the end of the day. And, goddammit, they have their own ideas and feelings of what is right and how to do things.
Ultimately, what is causing the friction, the tension, and the power struggle is MY inability to give up controlling every single aspect of their lives. Just in the last six months our relationship has gone from my being in charge of them completely, to my being a mom who is there to help them navigate their own way from here on out. Last week, I could not just be a “helper.” I was holding lord over them, desperately clinging to my “Captain” role. This is my ship! I am in charge! You will do as you are told! It is my way or the highway! You will defer to me! Yup, pretty much trying to play God and have them surrender themselves and their will to ME.
Self-righteous and controlling are two words that now come to mind. Therapy is another one. How much future therapy have I caused them in the past seven days? Enough to warrant a therapy scholarship? Ah, if only there were such a thing, I would apply not only for them, but for myself as well.
But the best therapy is for me to realize that while they are still dependant upon me as I will always be their mom and hopefully always one of their “go to” people, they must now also find and depend upon own their own source, their own voice. Prior to this moment in time, I was their captain – their voice, protector, guide, and cheerleader. The one who kept them on the straight and narrow path. Now, today, my role has shifted. I am here to guide them as they find their own voice, a voice they can become dependent upon. They will make their own mistakes. I can’t stop them. They will have their own experiences. I can’t control them. I have to let go, a little bit more each day, so that one day they can stand on their own as the bright, compassionate, wonderful young men that they are becoming.
So in this moment, I choose to shift my focus. I will no longer look at them and see the past or literally fight with them to keep the past in the present. I will not look at this as a loss. Yes, I will grieve the babies and the life that we have lived for the last 13 years. But I will grieve it privately, and quickly, so that I may move into the joy as I look forward toward the possibilities before them. The possibilities of who they are becoming. Who they are becoming because I was their Captain. Who they will become because I am now just a guide.
Recently, a child cried on my son’s shoulder at graduation. No one showed up for her. No one to see her walk across the stage or stand and be honored for her achievements. The seats reserved for her family were empty. My son felt so bad. To make matters worse, he had been invited to the after graduation party her family was throwing at a retail location down the street. The kids were going to get to hang out, mix CD’s, eat, and, evidently, be filmed for a reality TV series. So, where was her family? Evidently, prepping for the party. It turns out that they were more concerned about how they would appear on camera at a 5th grade graduation party for some rinky dink reality show than they were about actually showing up for their kid’s big moment. That’s some seriously messed up priorities.
