It’s hard to admit, but underneath that heart-wrenching good bye as my screaming three-year-old clung to my leg begging me not to leave her and then as an 18-year-old saying, “mom, I don’t think I can do this,” were lots of feelings.  The powerlessness of seeing her so scared to take this next step, the second guessing myself on whether this was the right move for her, and where does all this leave me?  As ridiculous as it sounds there was also the thought that perhaps it was easier to have her close so we could both be less scared. Rather than taking a pause and letting those emotions come forward, I skipped right over them, defaulting to my most familiar avoidant strategy, control. The lines of whose feelings were whose were definitely blurred.

In reflecting back, I realize that in all the transitions with my children from birth to being a grandparent (a Barbie), I often stunted my personal growth.  I was so excited to see them experience their first step. I naturally stepped back and cheered them on. The courage it took to get up on two feet, wobbling, then after many failed attempts and lots of perseverance they were off walking. The first step of many. Oh, the dismay in my realizing now that my child’s first step was a metaphor for how to raise my children.  They’re the ones doing the walking, not me.  My job was to step back and let them do the work and do the learning. Allow them to walk through life, don’t carry them.  Stand by, be their best cheerleader.  As painful as their journey is to watch, it was selfish of me to rob them of the opportunity to grow and it was cruel to deny myself personal growth.

Being my own judge and jury, I am guilty as charged.  I carried them more often than I care to admit.  It’s the seemingly innocent stuff like doing the chores they were supposed to do, over involving myself with their homework (okay, I admit I did the entire 4^th grade project myself), doing their laundry when they came home from college, or doling out cash in support of their dreams.  If only I had had a huge dose of social and emotional learning.  With that muscle developed, I would have been more aware, made more responsible parenting decisions, sought support from trusted resources, and managed my emotions and relationships much more gracefully.  A constant pattern of placing their dreams ahead of my dreams was a recipe for disaster for me and my children.  My day of reckoning came (better late than never) when we both were struggling to know what we wanted to be when we grow up. That “what’s my purpose” thankfully is the underlying feeling that keeps popping up.

I suspect I am not alone. In fact, I know I’m not.  Every day I coach parents, grandparents and great grandparents who are coming close or have hit that day of reckoning.  The best gift we can give our children is to do the hard work and heart work of our own social and emotional development so we can know what we are feeling and face our vulnerability with loving kindness. I am here to say, I have lived it to give it, and once we put this into practice, we will start to develop a more fearless heart space for our children. It is this heart space where they too can become the socially and emotionally healthy people that we desire and that the world needs.