We all go through hard times. For most of us, it starts around adolescence. It did for me. And I’ve seen it in almost every young person I’ve been around.
Now it’s my children’s turn. And I am worried sick.
It’s like when they were little and got sick. I wanted to do everything. I could do almost nothing. That gap, between what I want to control and what I can actually control, is huge. Plus, my mind runs through every way this could go wrong, and this tumbling of the mind makes the stakes feel even bigger.
I know they have to go through this. I know I can’t fix it. I know every parent goes through the same struggle, trying to accept something that matters this much and can’t be controlled.
Knowing doesn’t help much. When it’s my turn, it’s still hard. It’s just hard.
I also know they will be okay, eventually. And even if they aren’t “okay,” IT will still be okay. That is the unnameable truth. The way. I don’t believe it just because it comforts me. I believe it because it’s fact.
And I am still worried sick. Both are true.
The other thing I need to remember: when it hurts to watch someone I love go through something hard, the hurt is proof of two things. Love. And fear.
They aren’t the same. My job is not to confuse them. Not to use love as a way to get rid of fear. Not to hold on too tight. Not to grip too hard.
So far, nothing has put me this far out of control of something I care about this much. That’s what makes parenting such a good teacher. If I let it.
So, let it be. Let love show up, through the good and the bad and the tough.
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