My "Standards" Have Fallen

I can't remember what "trauma" prompted the phone call last spring to one of my oldest, dearest, and wisest friends.  This friend is always there for me; I wish I called her more frequently just to catch up. Instead this is the friend I call when I need to be grounded, when I need a calming presence, a listening ear, and a nonjudgmental conversation.  She is someone who knows me and my neurosis and loves me anyway.  And perhaps most importantly, she loves my children and outside of the family may be the only person who knows everything about them. Everyone should have a friend like this.

Anyway, I called her with the latest "issue"--I can pretty much guarantee that I went on and on about how I was failing as a parent, about how I didn't know what to do; basically I went on and on making it all about me.  And she patiently listened, offered wise counsel, and then we moved onto catching up on our other children--we have a passel between us.  Our oldest are either in college search or have made their decisions.  We laughed about how when they were three and four years old they used to compete with multiplication facts. We laughed about all the things we used to worry about (okay I'll be honest,  I worried and obsessed about it more than she did.  She's always been more level headed.) As we were concluding our reminiscing my wise friend said, "You know I've let so much go.  My goals and standards have certainly changed.  If I can just get them out of high school and not in jail, I'll consider that a success."  I laughed and added, "Yeah, and not pregnant or addicted to anything would be icing on the cake."  We were making light and laughing but the comments have reverberated with me for all these months.

What did we mean by letting so much go and our goals and standards changing?  Are we just tired? Are we giving up?  I knew that wasn't true.  Suddenly this week it hit me--the goals and standards I was striving for all those years ago were about me.  I suppose I needed to be validated; I needed the children to "achieve" in order to make myself feel important and successful.  And I believed that achievement had to come in the way the world defined achievement and success.  I wanted to be the mother of the valedictorian, the quarterback, the captain of the team, the class president, the star of the play, the Ivy league graduate because I thought then I would know I had been a "good mother."

Let me be honest, I love watching the children reach for their dreams and I cheer and support them as they chase them.  I cannot watch Sarah Katherine dance without tearing up; I watch with pride as Christopher and William take the field or the court; and when Caroline is performing or playing sports, the pure joy on her face brings joy to my heart.  But what I have learned is these "things" are a) not about me and b) not the measure of success that is most important.  It is hard to let go of that. What I now hear when I think about our flippant comment is that I want the children to grow up and be caring and compassionate people.  I assume that if they can graduate from high school not in jail than they have tried to "persevere in resisting evil, and to respect the dignity of all people, and have tried to strive for peace and justice among all people." (BCP, p.292)   And if they do these things--it is THEIR success, THEIR achievement; while I can be proud of the people they have become, it is not about me.  I may have been one of the important people in their lives guiding them, but they have made their own choices.  Yes I want the children to be successful, and  yes I want them to lead productive lives, but I have to remember that they are their own people--they will make their own choices and have to face their own consequences--good and bad.  Some choices I will agree with and some I won't. I suppose it's not that I have let my standards and goals fall but rather I have tried to stop making then all about me I have tried to release the goals the world says I must have for them, and I have have attempted to loosen my death grip on the children and instead  allow them to claim their own personhood.  It's a daily challenge, a daily struggle, and a daily joy.

PS
I have to say that I am so thankful that despite all the things I have considered traumas I have not had to face (at least yet) addiction, teen pregnancy or any other truly difficult and life changing situation, and my heart and prayers go out to all those parents who have.