Letting go of her hand...

My daughter is 15.  Almost 15 and a half.  Ok she’s 15 years, 3 months and 22 days old.  And I’m having a hard time letting her go.

Another pet peeve of mine.  People who keep remarking how fast time is flying.  Duh.  It’s supposed to.   That’s what time does, it’s called the natural order of the universe.  I was never one to bemoan watching my kids grow up, that’s what they’re supposed to do.  And honestly, my daughter has been in a sort of depression since her dad and I split up.  Then, she wound up with a benign tumor on her skull the following year.  To add fuel to the fire, when she was 13, I could no longer afford the tuition at the parochial school she’s been attending since kindergarten.  So she got her first taste of real world social girl cattiness in the 8th grade - her first time attending a public school - knocked her on her ass it did. She’s had enough put on her plate these past few years.

I’ve noticed she hasn’t developed the friendships she had at the parochial school.  For a girl who is a relative social butterfly, this concerned me.  I noticed with dismay how she stayed locked in her room all the time.  The past few weeks, I have met a few of her friends. And here lately, she’s gone out with them a couple of times.  This mom,  started breathing a tiny sigh of relief.

Yesterday, she asked if she could go with her friends to see “The Avengers” at the movies.  This time, with just her friends.  One of them drives, so this is her first time with a group of kids without a parent chaperoning.

Gulp.

That was tough for me to acquiesce to.  But then I remembered how sheltered I was growing up.  In an effort to protect me, my parents refused to let me go anywhere or do anything.  It did me no favors.  I held a part time job and joined extracurricular activities in high school just to get out of the house.  My parents were so worried I’d get into “trouble” (i.e. pregnant), they overprotected me...it was stifling.  I don’t want to do that to my daughter.

I believe life is about making mistakes and taking chances.  By keeping me locked in the house, my parents never let me experience that.  As twisted as this seems, I want my daughter to have her heart broken, so she can learn to cope with the pain.  I want her to do stupid things - within reason - how else will she learn from those mistakes.  I want my daughter to have her own experiences, to develop and mature, not go through the arrested development I did when I finally left home and got married.  I was way too young and way too immature to get married - can’t change that.

I can’t wait for her to leave the house - not because I want her gone, because I want her to experience the world in ways I never was able to.  I want her to learn how to define herself through her trials and tribulations...not the other way around.

This balance is difficult - how much slack in the rope do I give her.  Despite all of these wants I have for her, when she told me she wanted to go out with her friends to a movie and one of them would be driving...well, I realized how tight my grip on her hand still is.  This growing up she’s doing is proving more difficult for me than I thought it would.

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