The Dichotomy of Letting your Children Soar
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For many years, I thought that life was a dichotomy where each of my emotions occupied a defined and clear place. Life and death, sadness and happiness, good and evil.
An immature and binary way of thinking that has gradually blurred over time, now sliding along a broad spectrum that ebbs and flows, rather than falling into strict categories. A place I like to be, as ironically, it gives me a nuanced perspective that opens the door to deep conversations and provides me with the opportunity to live with empathy and continuous learning.
What I never imagined is that a single moment could be invaded by two equally strong feelings coexisting and occupying my heart simultaneously. Equally intense, equally profound.
But I'm sure you're wondering, where does all this come from? Well, let me tell you.
I was driving at night on the road from Waco to Houston, ready to cry. A Texan journey back home that was too straight and dark, not to mention boring. No curves or mountains to make it a bit more entertaining, or at least more like the ones I used to drive in Mexico.
I had just experienced a moment I never thought would happen to me and one that had been looming over me for several years. I had dropped off my daughter at college.
I always knew this moment would come. After so long living in the United States, I knew there was no avoiding it. However, being a perpetual Chilanga, which is how you'd refer to someone from Mexico City, deep down inside, I always thought we would return to Mexico before this happened.
Eighteen years always sounded like too much time. It's incredible to think that I've lived in another country for every one of them. And even more incredible and strange to live in a place where the culture has not become my own, where I've hidden it behind Mexican friends who have become my family, and where I've disguised it by preserving my language and traditions. But then comes that day when that foreign culture confronts you head-on, like a bull, ready to charge at you with its horns.
My heart seemed to have grown in size and was expanding, as if wanting to occupy the space between the steering wheel and me. Despite driving alone, there were two other robust passengers in my car, occupying all the space and using up the air. My air.
These two passengers didn't even have to fight to see who occupied a larger space, as they filled exactly the same space, equally. One of them knew that they would come with me, and I had their passenger seat ready, but the other one was new.
The companion who knew that they wouldn't miss this moment for anything in the world was sadness. Deep, new, inexplicable sadness. For all the moms who will one day drop off their children at college, today I share that yes, it's true, it's a terrifying detachment that hurts so much, and there's no other way to put it. You feel like repacking their things and telling them you've changed your mind, that they're not going to study, and that you're taking them back home.
Tears were sliding beneath my glasses as I relived that last hug in my memory. After we had already said goodbye without wanting to let go, we turned our backs and started walking, she towards her dorm, me towards my car. I walked without wanting to turn around, with a feeling of wanting to give her one more hug, but avoiding being that mom who succumbs to drama at all costs. Suddenly, just like in a movie, she yelled, —Mom! and came back to give me that last hug that she had also missed. A hug I will never forget.
Writing it down my heart feels heavy and strange again.
However, during those hours on the road back, I realized that those tears were the same ones that also filled my heart with joy and pride. That's why I say my heart came like a deployed air bag because as cliché as it may sound, watching my daughter become a strong and compassionate woman with a wonderful personality and heart is a dazzling feeling.
It's also very exciting to know that she's about to embark on one of the most incredible adventures of her life. It comforts me to see that she carries both her bravery and vulnerability equally, both important.
Without a doubt, returning alone on the road was not something we had planned as ideal, but I also believe it gave me the opportunity to pause, reflect, and feel the moment. To feel immensely happy and immensely sad, all at the same time.
At an unexpected moment, on a podcast I was listening to, one of my favorite songs started playing, Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell. A song with lyrics that depict dichotomy like no other, and unintentionally, thanks to the genius of the Canadian artist, I concluded my catharsis on a high note.
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to meet and talk with Brian Coleman in Chicago. He was named Counselor of the Year in 2019 and spends his days with teenagers, offering the best insights into the challenges kids face today. During our session, he provided several tips for this new back-to-school experience for me. I feel incredibly fortunate to have had these tips with me throughout this process.
Today, I'm sharing them with you so that you can keep them close to your heart and use them as much as possible when the time comes, although I must say that pain is inevitable.
Save Your Stories for Another Time:
When your children share their fears or concerns, try to avoid sharing your own experiences. It's impossible for them to know what you went through, so don't try to equate it with anything. Trying to find an equivalent in our arsenal of stories invalidates their feelings. What our children need most is for us to listen to them at that moment.
Schedule Real Conversations:
Strive to have meaningful conversations with your children regularly. Don't shy away from those uncomfortable questions. It's important to keep the lines of communication open.
Remind Them of the Importance of Saying “No” and Making Responsible Decisions:
Let's not tire of reinforcing the importance of not succumbing to peer pressure and learning to say NO. Making responsible decisions will be crucial for their healthy and safe development in their college life. That's why it's essential to start these conversations from a young age and make them a regular and constant part of their lives.
Normalize Failure:
Share your mistakes and failures with your children. This way, they'll see that it's something common and normal, and what's important is learning how to overcome them.
Help Them Discover Healthy Mechanisms to Manage Stress or Anxiety:
Such as:
Breathing exercises
Physical exercise
Intellectual curiosity about a subject or challenge, not just for the grade but out of a genuine interest in learning something new.
Resolve Conflicts in Person:
In this modern age, we often think everything can be resolved with a text or an email. It's important for our children to know that conflicts, both with us and their new peers, are inevitable and are best resolved through face-to-face conversations, not through direct messages. When discussing something that bothered them, start with phrases like "This made me feel..." or "I felt this way when you did this or that action." Speaking from our feelings is much more receptive than accusing the other person.
Support Their Independence:
When offering help, suggest ways to do it rather than imposing it. For example, "I have a few ideas on how I could help you; what do you think? Do they work for you? How would you prefer me to assist you?"
Take a Pause Before Reacting:
Brian recommended both parents and students learn to create a space between what's happening to us and our reaction to it. This way, we can learn to self-regulate.
Thanks to @mrbriancoleman for sharing his wise advice with us and to @go_faar for making that session possible.
Throughout this process, I can say that my greatest learning has been to put my own fears aside and allow my daughter to discover her own, which will undoubtedly be different. She's been at Baylor University for just over a month now, and those two feelings that accompanied me on the road back still linger. It makes me immensely happy to know she's content and discovering the world. Yet, it also saddens me greatly when there are four places at the table instead of five.
I imagine these two emotions will continue to be guests in my home until further notice. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy and explore this bicultural life that teaches me, challenges me, enriches me, and surprises me every day.
