Being Mummy to my three young children was one of the most loved periods of my life. The experience of such closeness, my children’s dependence, our interdependence and the wonderful place of being my children’s “go to” person for love, food, caring, answers and comfort – how warming and beautiful that felt. Watching them offer their trust, uncomplicated acceptance and love often shocked me in its purity and simplicity. To my children, I was lovable as I was, and there was no doubt that for me at least, part of the early joy of parenthood was that interchange of emotional validation. Their belief that I knew what life was all about and had all the answers.  And yes of course I recognise, how this told me in some weird way that “I was okay”.

Looking back at this naïve beginning to parenthood, I had thought my role was all about my offering to my children. What I could teach them, how I could mould them and make little versions of myself and we could all be comfortable together. How funny and silly all at the same time.

For the first 14 or so years of my children’s lives, I had come to know that life had a certain set of rules, rules I was comfortable with, rules of my making and therefore of course, rules that worked for me. Throughout my children’s early years, they would come to me for answers about life and I gave them my answers. Looking back, these were simply answers that helped me feel safe and comfortable in the world and so I guess my thinking was they were “right”, not just for me but for my children also.

These were the foundations that I thought would be the future of my life as a parent. Me teaching, instructing, guiding and them following, grateful and trusting. I’m laughing as I write this. The reason needs no explanation I’m sure. Of course, all I reflect on here is my own journey and the unexpected that turned me upside down along the way. Those of you who lived my dream of unquestioning obedience from their children into adulthood, forgive my rant. For me, the story was very different.

What I learned as my children grew older and started to separate from me, was they were going to teach me to see myself more honestly and ruthlessly than ever before. And my hope for wonderfully validating clones of myself was something that now makes me laugh out loud. Because what I faced and continue to face, is one the hardest lessons of parenthood. How to be the parent of adult children. The contrast is stark and unsettling and something that needed me to readjust my whole way of being. It makes me examine every day where I come from in this new role, and whose need am I meeting in all that I do in my relationships with them.

When adolescence hit our house, it came like a tornado. You see I have three daughters and each one entered adolescence straight after her older sister. Each one showing me more than the one before, that I knew nothing; that I could be very unlovable in the face of mutiny and rebellion; and that I now had to back up my answers with some sort of logic or truth, rather than merely my comfort. Ouch! Where does a mother hide in the face of such treachery! “Where’s the respect?” I cried. Rebellion by 3, and nowhere to hide.  I experienced this as a hugely painful threat to my life’s purpose – Being mummy – Clever, unquestioned mummy.  Fumbling with my fear, I drew on all the known weapons I had learnt in my own upbringing. Talk of disrespect, disloyalty, and sacrifice, honour and blah blah. None of which protected me from them witnessing my frailty, from seeing perhaps I didn’t know as much as they had once thought I did, and that I was actually as flawed as anyone else.

I could be heard blathering on for many years using my useless and repetitive weapons, where had I known better or even more, I would have understood I was hopelessly groping and grasping for some meaning in their increasingly individuating lives.

What a painful journey that was. And the pain evolved into suffering when I refused to vacate my position of being the mother “that knew better” and so I was “right” and needed to be satisfied! When I sought help with this struggle and shared with my therapist the indignation at the lack of respect I felt and all I had done for them and more blah blah , I looked up at him and saw he was smiling back at me. He may have even giggled a little. What?!?! I remarked infuriated….; you are embarking on one of the most painful of journeys he said. Giving your children their freedom, allowing them to make their own way, choose their own values and its hard and threatening. All this anger is just your struggle and fear of being left behind. I remember the tears that followed once I connected with that fear, – it shuddered through me. I had come here in the hope he would help me ‘fix’ my children but on hearing his words, I knew that this was true.  It was a huge lesson. I could no longer validate myself with the unquestioning adherence of my children. It was not how I wanted to love them. And when I realised why I had clung so strongly to being mummy, I felt shame at throwing them under the bus to appease my own need.

From that day I embarked on the vulnerable journey of really trying to listen to my children, trying to hear what held meaning for them, guiding from a place of understanding and undefendedness whilst they were still young enough; and learning in their older years not to give my opinion unless they sought it. I wanted to be their “go to” place once again, but this time for softness, understanding and their validation and acceptance. To hold them when needed and put in my own boundaries when necessary. To know what was my stuff and what was theirs.  No longer mummy but their mother no less and maybe more meaningful.

My girls now in their thirties make their own choices however different, and they do it with confidence and wholeness borne of being allowed to fly without guilt of what happens to Mummy. Mummy had to learn to take care of her own stuff! The Dalai Lama has a wonderful quote speaking to this which seems to be written just for me….

“Give the ones you love wings to fly, roots to come back to and reasons to stay”

How has this experience helped me as a therapist? I sit with clients both in Groups and one on one sessions, who tell of their varying experiences of parenthood. Not all have been as fortunate as me and I acknowledge loudly that my experience has been a very blessed one. But what I really learnt and want to share both with my clients and now in this story, is about how it feels when we are no longer the ‘significant other’ to our children. Where do we go with that feeling of dislocation and perceived demotion? How our learning is that we don’t cling to something unhelpful to avoid our own pain and growth. And to acknowledge the painful separation and how to begin remodelling into our new role as the parent of adult children. Not trying to live in the reflected devotion of our young children but living in the honesty of our adult children. Knowing it’s okay for our children to see us exactly for who we are, warts and all. And when we do that, we give them permission to be just who they are also.

Karina Stell – January 2015