Less Really Is More

Most parents of young adults struggle with a similar dilemma: wondering how involved we should be in helping our children find direction for their lives. On the one hand, we want our loved ones to be happy and successful, to have clearly defined goals and the motivation to carry them out. On the other hand, they often lack the goals and/or the motivation, which leads us to wonder how far we should push. I have learned that, generally, the less we do for them, the more they will do for themselves, though not always in the manner, or within the timeline, we would have chosen for them.

Cathy and Tom, parents of 23-year-old Emma, were exhausted from pulling their daughter through college. Now, Emma was jobless, had no drive, and stayed up on Facebook all night, then slept all day. She said she just needed some down time after all those grueling school years. Two months after graduation, however, she was showing no signs of “recuperating” and her parents were starting to pull their hair out.

“Well, at least someone can do something around here,” Cathy and Tom agreed, as they put together an elaborate plan of requirements and tasks for Emma’s next two months. Her responsibilities included that she must stay awake during the day and sleep at night; clean up after herself in the kitchen; apply for two jobs or more per day; and work on grad school applications for two hours each day. Emma’s parents felt relieved and excited when the plan was in place; Emma was less enthusiastic. The main difference now was that there was more arguing at the dinner table.

When Cathy and Tom met with me, they felt frustrated, defeated and baffled. “We’re fighting with her every day. We just don’t get it – why won’t she do the things that will help her get ahead?” I answered “Because it’s your plan, not hers, and it’s her job developmentally to prove that you have no control over her anymore. You’re giving her a clear message that you don’t have any faith in her.” Then I gave them two questions to ponder: “What does Emma want for this next stage of her life? What can you do to turn responsibility for her life over to your daughter?”

When they returned two weeks later, Cathy and Tom had big smiles on their faces. “We listened to what you said, went home and apologized to Emma for power-struggling and listened as she explained how lost she feels and what a disappointment and a burden she feels like she is to us. We took “The Plan” off the table, offered to connect her with a career counselor, and she was thrilled. She started cleaning the kitchen and her bathroom without being asked and has started applying for jobs. We’re practicing supporting her without giving advice – it’s hard, but she sure likes it! And dinner is pleasant again.”

As we stop advising and trying to “fix” our kids, and as we learn to listen to them, we all benefit from our restraint.

Wendy Boorn, M.C., L.P.C.

www.MothersOfAdultChildren.com

 

Learning to Let Go: The Key to Parenting Adult Children

“I’m totally devastated! I just found out my son Jeff’s wife Ella has been having an affair with a co-worker for the last year,” my friend Janet wept through the phone. “It seems like yesterday that we stood at the front of that church and gave our blessing on their marriage. She seemed just perfect. He was my baby so I finally felt free to live my own life – my husband and I even planned our second honeymoon for shortly after they came home from theirs. And then a few years later they had those precious little girls – I thought they would be happy forever.

“And now this – I’m so shocked I haven’t slept for three nights, and I can’t stop crying. I don’t know which has me more upset, Jeff’s news or the fact that he won’t let me help him. He was sobbing over the phone, and I just couldn’t stand it. I jumped right into ‘mother mode’. I told him I’d get on a plane tomorrow, and he told me not to come. I wanted to call Ella and he said ‘absolutely not’. I offered to help him find an apartment or a therapist and he said he could do those things himself. Mothers are supposed to fix things when their kids are hurting. I don’t know what to do – I’m climbing out of my skin. I’ve just got to find a way to make things better,” she wailed. “What would you do?” she asked me.

“Well, in a perfect world, I’d stay calm, ask my son how I can help and then follow his direction. But, since it’s not a perfect world, my guess is that I would probably panic like you did and then throw every suggestion in the book at him hoping something would stick. When they were little and fell down and split their knees open, we could take away their pain by holding them and giving them Band-Aids and kisses. It seems like the hardest part about parenting adult kids is that there is so little we can do to make things better for them when they’re hurting. Even though we’re terrified, we have to let go.

“Since Jeff isn’t asking for your help, maybe you’d like to look for the opportunities here for your own growth. These might include calming down and accepting that he is an adult and can handle this challenge without your help. Another would be to write to him, apologize for panicking and jumping into fix-it mode and tell him that you would be honored to listen if he needs to talk, but that you won’t intrude and will do your best not to offer unsolicited advice. Then call it a day.”

Janet responded, “I know you’re right. Thanks for the reminder - I feel better already.”

In order to maintain peace of mind as parents of adults, we must let go and allow our children to forge their own paths, no matter where those paths may take them. 

Wendy Boorn, M.C., L.P.C.

www.MothersOfAdultChildren.com

The Lanyard – an ode to his mother by Poet Laureate Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

The Lanyard – an ode to his mother by Poet Laureate Billy Collins