There I sat across the table from my son. He had asked me out on a date, a belated
birthday gift. As he sat looking at the
menu I felt my mind racing, kind of like a movie on fast-forward. Only this wasn’t some blockbuster hit.
The memories flooding in were from the last ten months: when he walked out the door, promising to
never come back; when I reached out in love only to be harshly accused of
ulterior motives; when he wouldn’t answer my calls or texts and I didn’t know
where he was or how he was doing; when I heard through the grapevine that he
had reached out to other people, but never us; when I “watched” him on the
Snapchat map (until Snapchat changed and you had to request permission to
follow location); when our plane landed one morning and I had several messages
waiting for me that he was in some serious trouble, and he still wouldn’t talk
to us; when I found out that he had taken advantage of some dear, kind-hearted
friends; when he stopped by unexpectedly one evening to give me an early Mother’s
Day card and he looked so broken and his hug was so hollow; when he told us
that anywhere was better than home, even his less-than-ideal living conditions.
Tears came to my eyes as I contemplated all we have been
through and I almost surprised myself with the amount of gratitude and love
that I had in my heart for him, not because nothing bad had happened, not
because everything was now wonderful, and not even because I sat there with
false hope. The love and gratitude I
felt was because I was so grateful for this time with him and I knew that if I had
lived through the last year consumed with fear and anger and hopelessness this
date probably wouldn’t have happened.
(Side note: this isn’t to say I
never felt fear, anger, and hopelessness; I just didn’t become consumed by
them.)
I used to believe I had to wait for life to be what it should be before I could really start
enjoying it. It was almost as if the part
of my life that was good was always
tainted by the other part ~ the part that was going all wrong, the part I
wished was different.
Even though we know better ~ at least in theory ~ when it
comes to our own situation the principle doesn’t seem to really apply. But,
it does.
There’s nothing unique about me that makes it so I can go
through these tumultuous times with love and gratitude, and you can’t. I don’t have a special gene that makes it
easier for me than for you. I’ve simply
learned how to separate myself from what’s actually going on so I don’t make
every bad thing that happens be my fault.
It’s a skill, and one that anyone can learn. Even you.
Even in your situation.
If you’re ready to learn how to feel more love
and gratitude ~ even though you’re frustrated with the choices your son is
making ~ it’s totally possible. Write
down your answers to the questions above and see how they help you to begin to
separate yourself from all the choices your son is making. If you want some help figuring this out set up your free
mini-session now and let your own journey towards peace in parenting begin.
To begin the process, ask yourself these questions:
Are you only thinking
about the times your son does something “wrong”? What about all the things he does “right”? If the “wrong” is all your fault, then so is
the “right” ~ proof that you’ve done plenty of things “right” in your parenting.
In any situation would
your son know what you would *want* him to do? Just because he doesn’t choose what you want
him to doesn’t mean you haven’t taught him.
Just because your son makes a choice you disagree with ~ it doesn’t mean
you didn’t teach him correctly.
