Letting go of others is hard, no matter what our relationship is with them. Letting go of our grip on others’ lives feels a bit like riding a motorcycle blindfolded. We ignore the fact that we weren’t driving to begin with. We panic as we wonder if the other person is paying attention and is seeing all the dangers on the road. The urge is to lean against every curve, trying to do what feels like it should keep the bike upright when really that only unsteadies it.

“Duped” into seeing I had to let go

Yesterday I was listening to an episode of the MindfulMama podcast with Hunter Clarke-Fields, author of “Raising Good Humans”. At first, I felt as though I’d been duped. I had clicked on the link promising ways to make your kids more independent, expecting a nice, worry-free strategy like making him do laundry or wash dishes. Instead, the guest was Lenore Skenazy, author of “Free-range Kids”. I got an unsolicited look at how my fears have been constricting my son’s growth and interfering with the enjoyment of his childhood.

Lenore suggested that I think about the favorite part of my childhood. I immediately had memories of long bicycle rides by myself. I remembered the first time I’d bicycled to Port Jefferson when I was fourteen. It was a quaint village about ten miles from home. I had gotten lost on my way there, making the ride closer to thirteen miles. I remember being hot and tired, but what I remember most is that as I finally rode into town I felt like a gold-medalist claiming her ribbon.

Then, she asked if my own child would be allowed to do that activity. My heart sank and I admitted the answer was “no”. In fact, my thirteen-year-old son had recently wanted to ride his scooter to his friend’s house three miles away. I had said he couldn’t. Even though I instantly realized that I was depriving my son of one of the things that I loved most about my childhood, the thought of letting him go terrifies me. The fact that, unlike when I was a kid, he’d have a cell phone in case of an emergency, GPS to help him if he lost his way, and I’d even be able to track his location, does little to ease my fear.

Fearing the worst of letting go- the world of “what if”

The sudden loss of my stepson to a car accident several years ago just fuels my fear. I have asked myself, “What if we didn’t let him go out that night?” Flashbacks of that loss still run through my head every time my son wants to go out on his scooter. The truth is, no matter what the situation if you lose someone you will always go through asking yourself, “what if”. I have seen my family and friends go through it with spouses, siblings, parents, and friends. And it doesn’t matter how much you’ve tried to protect those people, you will always wish you had done more.

But, the podcast made me ask myself, “What if he would be fine (like you were) and you are constricting him out of your fear for no reason? Maybe you are depriving him of some of the magic of being young, and the confidence it would bestow. What if the cost of keeping him “safe” is too great?” I’m a numbers person and I know, statistically, he would probably be fine. So, who am I really protecting, him from harm, or me from worry?

So, with a racing heart and streaming tears, I texted my son that I changed my mind. He could take his scooter to his friend’s house. Texting made it possible to avoid the temptation to add a million warnings that would make him roll his eyes. He knows to be careful, to watch for cars, to call me if he needs me. What he doesn’t know is that I trust him and have confidence in him. He also needs to know that I’m willing to be uncomfortable enough to let him fly. Hopefully, when he gets there, he will.

Letting go happens in little steps

Letting go feels excruciating. It can bring up our deepest fears and make us relive our worst memories. We can acknowledge our fears. Then, we can ask ourselves what we may be costing them by holding on so tightly. By taking small steps back, we can release our loved ones from appeasing us at the expense of their happiness and growth. And we will get through it, too, and maybe even grow from it as well.