
There's no doubt about it, risks are part of life. As the saying goes, when you stop taking risks, you stop living.
So, we weigh the pros and cons, tune into our intuition, trust and go forward. Whether it’s skydiving, asking for a raise, inviting an acquaintance to lunch or standing firm on your boundaries, moving out of your comfort zone and into an unfamiliar activity activates discomfort and resistance. That’s the deal.
And so, I think it’s important that we name those risks, face them head on, and see if we can get a clearer image of what it means to make the move from being an anxious, frustrated parent to being steady and intentional:
The risk of acknowledging that “No, everything is not great.”
Embarking on a coaching program, or even just booking a discovery call with me, is admitting that parenting your young adult isn't going well. And that's hard because a part of you thinks that, by now, you should have it figured out. You thought you’d be in a fairly smooth, connected relationship with your big kid. You expected to feel like you’re parenting in your truth and integrity.
But you don’t.
Being this honest with yourself is brave. And it's even more courageous to pull back the curtain and share with another human being that the way you’re parenting this kid does not feel good.
The risk of being with uncomfortable emotions
When they admit that it’s not working and ask for help, many parents hear the voice of guilt. Whether it's loud and clear or so subtle they can barely recognize it, they hear, “You’re being selfish. You screwed this up. You’re not a good parent.”
And when they allow themselves to sit with the truth of not currently being able to be the kind of parent they want to be, then other uncomfortable emotions seep in: frustration, disappointment, resentment, fear, annoyance, regret, confusion, anger…
And these aren’t easy feelings to sit with. Many of us haven't learned to allow hard feelings to be in us. To let them mingle with our bones and blood, swirl through our hearts, turn our stomachs or pound in our heads until flows on through.
Of course, it feels risky to dive into the waters of your heart space, even with a guide. You wonder if you will drown. You think, those feelings are always going to be there and so, what could possibly be gained by feeling them again?
It's brave to feel what's hurting and hard, and to trust that your body will be enough of a container to hold you in your discomfort. It's so damn brave to feel.
The risk of going within
You know that the way you're parenting this particular kid doesn't feel right, that you're like two spaceships drifting around each other but unable to dock. You feel yourself being triggered and recognize that you need to dig deeper and explore what's going on for you.
And even though we say that we want to build our self-awareness and attune with ourselves, it still feels risky. Isn’t it just narcissistic navel gazing? Isn't knowing myself better just becoming more painfully aware of my inadequacies? What if what I encounter in my Self is too scary, too complicated and too difficult for me to handle?
It's brave to believe that you are interesting and complex and full of light. To be willing to go down into the layers of who you are and cultivate intimacy with yourself. To make room for aspects of yourself that you always hoped/knew were within you.
The risk of changing relationships
You want to change your relationship with your young adult. But at the same time, change feels risky. What if you assert your boundaries and they’re so annoyed that they won't talk to you? What if you don’t fix their problem and they decide they can’t rely on you? What if…
When we change our perspective and change how we respond to previously intense situations, it definitely jiggles the family mobile (picture a dangly thing, not a phone). Yes, your child will initially be confused when you're not reacting the way you always used to. Yes, they’ll get frustrated and have their own reactions. And so, it's brave to go forward, one step at a time, trusting that you will both adjust and find a better point of balance. A better way of loving and connecting with each other.
The risk of creating your own path
I’m guessing that you’ve read a few parenting books and listened to some podcasts. And while you found them to be incredibly insightful, they didn’t quite pertain to you and your specific relationship with your particular young adult. You’re unique and so is your young adult child and so, you know that your path must be unique. It makes sense but that feels risky too.
Shifting into a new way doesn’t come from an instruction manual; it comes from taking one step, discovering what you know and feel in your new location and, from that wisdom, taking another step. There’s no way of knowing what the path will look like and so it’s brave to believe that you have within you, and will gain access to, all the wisdom you need to create your own path as the parent of this almost-adult child. And it will be breathtaking, astounding and magical.
The risk of not having all the answers.
Humans crave certainty; we strive to create it in all sorts of ways, creating routines, making plans, asking Google, etc. And the truth is that life is uncertain. Very uncertain. Our world is unfolding in ways we never could have guessed. And so are we as individuals.
We’ve grown and developed in many ways since we became parents. And yet, setting out to shift our way of being with our beautiful, challenging kid feels like a misty, murky, possibly foolhardy and unnecessary undertaking. You wonder if you'll get lost. Why venture across the field or through the mountain pass when you could just stay in the Shire?
To me, self-exploration is courageous and honorable. Next to love, it's the most important human venture and the best response any of us can have to the suffering and challenges of the world.
It’s saying, I’ll be different.
I am brave enough to leave the well-worn path.
I can sit in the discomfort of not knowing and allow the answers to emerge as I need them.
I trust that, as I walk, my path will be revealed.
I surrender to the Big Love and let it carry me forward.
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Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash