The Shadow Side of Letting Go
You let go of my hand last year.
You were so determined to go away and find yourself.
I wanted to tell you to listen to me.
In my sadness, before you left, I never did find the words.
I was afraid that you would feel like I was trying to make you feel guilty for leaving.
Now that you're home, it needs to be said before you leave again.
So here it goes-
I love you, so please open your stubborn mind and listen:
The version of you that you are traveling ahead to see is one of many.
There are no limits to what you can become as long as you believe in yourself.
It is okay to make mistakes.
Do your best to learn from your mistakes to evolve into the next higher version of you.
A relationship with someone should not put limits on what you are capable of.
Someone else's pain and hurt are not yours to carry alone.
Whoever you are with must also care about and work towards their self-development, so that you do not lose yourself in theirs.
Whoever walks along this path with you should want you to be happy in your individuality and should wish for you to grow into your own best self, not the version of you that they think you should be.
Please remember that discovering yourself does not mean you allow someone else to mold you into who they think you should be.
I know that you want a relationship, but you should never sacrifice who you are for one.
On this path that you walk away from me to find yourself, I still have to remember that you are not five.
I still have to remind myself that your hand is much bigger than mine now and too large for me to hold.
I am torn between chasing after you and staying grounded, away from you, so that you can make your own decisions.
How do I watch you make mistakes and remain silent?
I can’t keep you safe from others who may hurt you.
I can’t keep you safe from your actions that may hurt you either.
That has been one of the hardest things to accept.
It has been my job to keep you safe from others and yourself for so long.
Regardless of how hard it has been, I have had to turn a blind eye and bite my tongue more times in the last year than I can count.
One day, you will recall the lessons I tried to teach you.
Time will be your teacher now, just as time is still mine.
“What’s wrong with him?
Why is his head like that?”
I could hear the panic in my Mom’s voice, even though she was trying to lower her voice to the Doctor to keep her question from my ears.
The Doctor told my Mom, “Daniel didn’t want to turn; we had to maneuver him into the world. His head won’t stay that way —he is fine.”
I remember the fear that gripped me in that moment right before the Doctor put my mother's fears to rest.
In all my life, that was the first time I recall feeling that kind of fear.
I couldn’t imagine ever losing you.
August 26, 2005.
The best day of my entire life.
The silence was something that I had just gotten used to.
I come home from work now to an old familiar sound.
Your voice online with your friends, and your TV fills the void of this once-silent home.
You are home.
You needed me.
Right from the beginning, when I got your plane ticket home, you warned me.
“Mom, this is temporary- I plan on returning in December.”
My guard is up.
Is it wrong that I feel this way?
It doesn’t matter if it’s wrong.
I have to be honest with you and myself.
Is this my shadow side coming out to rear its ugly head?
Is it healthy for me to put up walls between us?
I justify this as beneficial for you, allowing you to grow without me, as you had wanted.
But really, it is also about protecting myself from the pain that your eventual absence will cause again.
For months, you have been away from me.
I had grown accustomed to the silence.
I've become accustomed to the feeling of being alone.
I am afraid of getting used to you being here with me, safe.
I am afraid of getting used to you saying goodnight.
I am afraid of getting used to seeing your light on in your room again.
I feel a fight within me.
I want to get close to you, yet I don’t.
I am steeling myself against the future hurt of you leaving again.