Updated: April 25, 2023
Originally Published: April 25, 2023
I lost it. Once the words started pouring out, I couldn’t rein them in. My voice bounced off the walls like gunfire. Usually careful with my speech, there was something oddly freeing about letting it all out.
In the heat of the moment, I didn’t pay attention to your expression. My anger clouded my vision, hiding the hurt and shock on your face. It wasn’t until I paused and took a deep breath that I truly saw it. Your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes were wide with disbelief. All the bravado of your 17 years seemed to fade away.
“Just stop yelling,” you pleaded. “I’ll do anything if you just stop yelling.”
Your words hit me hard, and I sank onto your bed—defeated, filled with regret, and devoid of any arguments to support my weakened stance. Yet I tried to explain.
I know you think it’s absurd that I erupted over the mess of your bags, clothes, and shoes strewn across the house, despite my countless requests for you to tidy up. You probably see it as an overblown reaction to everyday life, convinced I’m making a big deal out of nothing.
What you don’t realize is that my outburst stemmed from fear. The depths of parental anxiety are vast, and the challenges of the teenage years often pull us far from the comforting shores of our emotional safety. Every decision feels monumental, and we worry we might steer you off course.
The stakes feel higher each time you leave the house. The concerns of your early childhood—potty training and fine motor skills—seem trivial now compared to the realities of driving responsibly, navigating social pressures around drugs and alcohol, college applications, job responsibilities, and schoolwork.
You step out with a sense of freedom, but I stand behind the door, gripping the deadbolt, desperately fighting the urge to call you back to the safety of our home.
I vividly remember my own teenage missteps. Some were minor, while others could have had serious consequences. Back then, we were blissfully unaware of the dangers, buoyed by a sense of invincibility. Now, many of my friends and I reflect on how fortunate we are to have made it through those years.
I want you to thrive—to experience the highs and lows, to embrace the pain and joy of life. I hope you discover what strengthens your spirit and that you grow wiser while never losing your ability to laugh at yourself. I wish for all of this for you, but some days, the thought of you moving away from home feels overwhelming.
Like today.
In my panic, I clung to anger like a lifeline. I yelled because the flood of fear had burst its dam, revealing all my worries about your journey ahead. I remember your first day of kindergarten, how you hesitated to let go of my hand. Time has a way of seducing us, promising permanence while mocking our attempts to hold onto the past.
You see, my dear, it was never really about the mess; it was about the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
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