Remember when your heart broke on a grade school afternoon drive home-when your kid shares, through tears, that some tragedy happened on the playground at lunch? And by tragedy, I mean someone beat them in tetherball. Or maybe they spilled their pretzels on the floor. Or maybe even something harder-they had a tough day with a friend.
I would do anything to have those cares-the worries that seemed huge, the crocodile tears that were unending, and the quick recovery that (almost) always happened by the next day. But now, those worries are different.
Younger kid worries feel more manageable than adult children worries
I am in no way minimizing the grade school challenges. Those are real and all you know at the time. When your babies are hurt, offended, sad, bullied, or left out, you FEEL all of it wholly. So it’s a worry for sure. I am just reflecting back and noting that those worries feel so much more manageable than the worries that happen with adult children.
Last week, one of my kids called and shared with my husband and I how difficult things have been for him. While I would like to say that we had no idea, we of course did. My husband more than me-he sensed it, saw the tension in his face when we had video calls, and could tell by the conversations we had.
I am the one who always thinks everything is rainbows and unicorns and I assumed that because he told us he was ok, that he was telling the whole truth. Not the case.
It was so hard for me to hear our son was struggling
It was incredibly hard for me to hear how our son had been struggling, mostly alone. He chose this, of course, knowing full well that we were *(are) always available and more than willing to help. He has a close circle, and while he confided some of his struggles to them, he really felt that he needed to sort through it himself-no one could help him but himself. So he did the work. He talked to a professional, he did some reflecting and journaling, he clawed his way out of a depression that had a hold on him and THEN shared it all with us.
I am going to try and explain why I started crying while he told us all this-and why I could still cry while typing. For one, I was sad because I didn’t sense it, or see it, and step in. As parents, we want to protect our kids, and if we can’t, then we for sure want to rush in and save them. I didn’t do either in this case; instead, I ignored what I should have noticed and addressed.
It’s scary to lean into the “what ifs” here because we all know stories like this that have ended badly. I don’t want to linger there.
You are only as happy as your least happy child
But that’s what keeps me up at night, for sure. I felt helpless and like I had somehow failed as a parent. By not noticing and acknowledging the struggle, I left my kid to fend for himself in a way that feels neglectful. I can reason all this away, but this is how I feel.
Because, as we all know, you are only as happy as your saddest child.
It was a rough day for me, and probably not easy for him to dig deep and share with us all that he had been dealing with and working through. But he did, and for that I am incredibly grateful.
He had to trust us enough to know that we would not over-react (I cried, yes, but I also let him know that I respected his choice to tell us when he was ready) and also to keep his personal business private. I think, as parents, sometimes we share too much, especially stuff in our adult kids’ lives that isn’t really ours to share.
We should not overshare from our teens’ lives
You know:
“So, is Susie dating anyone?”
“Is Trevor still looking for a new job?”
“What ever happened with Sal’s roommate situation?”
Maybe they don’t mind telling us but they definitely don’t need everything broadcast to our friends!
I think the moral of my story is that I LOVE that my kid felt that he could deal with things, felt strongly that he was doing it his way, but then also trusted us enough to share. It’s a whole other level of worry and sad-nothing like the spilled lunch or lost schoolyard game kind of worry and sad. A whole new intense and stressful kind of way to lose sleep. Parenting never ends, it just changes.
The author of this post wishes to remain anonymous.
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