If you're reading this letter, it's likely that you know exactly what I'm talking about, or you were curious. I want to disclose before I even start that I understand there are cases where my words don't apply. I'm not writing you to change your mind, I'm writing you in the hopes that if nothing else, you'll leave this letter with a better understanding. Your son or daughter (for the sake of wordiness, I'll use 'daughter' as my example) is no longer a child; she's grown. Maybe she's eighteen, maybe in her early twenties, and while it seems that every other young adult her age is going away to college or exploring the big wide world of real estate and independent opportunities, she's seeded at home. You're aggravated with her reluctance to go out into the world and do things--why can't she just act like a normal adult?--and it feels like she's simply refusing to become her own person. It's exhausting, and it's weighing on your nerves because she knows better, you raised her better than a freeloader.
But she's not.
The next time you find yourself becoming frustrated, I want you to take a moment to step back and try to understand the bigger picture. Her intention isn't to mooch off of you or your money--I promise you, with all of my heart, she appreciates everything you do for her, even if she doesn't always remember to vocalize it. Her reluctance doesn't stem from laziness or the lack of desire to explore the world; she wants to spread her wings like her friends or, perhaps, her siblings, if she has them. It's not spite that deters her, it's fear. You held her hand as she grew up, you cared for her when she was sick, rocked her to sleep, and you've kept a sturdy roof over her head, food on the table, and instilled in her a love that only a parent can. For her entire life, you've been there for her. Suddenly, that rug is yanked from underneath her feet and she's left staring 100 feet down at a world where you're not there. What you don't see is the way tears well up in her eyes at night while she thinks to herself 'I know I need to leave, but what am I going to do?' The history of endless apartment searches in her browser history that have consequently gone unfinished because halfway through, she was reminded that if she left, you wouldn't be there.
I understand that it can be frustrating, and that you feel like you're not doing your job as a parent because she just doesn't seem to be getting it. You've most likely done incredibly well by her. I can't say that you've done everything right, because who doesn't make some mistakes along the way? The fact of the matter is that she trusts you and loves you so deeply that it's keeping her rooted where she feels grounded and safe. Push her to spread her wings and venture out, but do it gently. Urge her, rather than yelling and pointing fingers. Help her in her search for something bigger and better and assure her that you're only a phone call away. Please, God, after reading this, don't belittle her for being afraid to leave.
Don't push her away, because once she's gone and too busy in her new life to pick up the phone, you're going to miss her as much as she was afraid that she was going to miss you.
