Growing Pains

Over the past couple of weeks I have engaged in some testy interactions with my teen daughter. It all started a little less than a month ago when I suggested we spend a bit more time together. If you have a teen in the house, you may have been the recipient of a similar look to the one I received if you were to make the same suggestion. I'll put it this way: it was not the overjoyed and enthusiastic look I would have received 10 years ago when she was a five-year old and there was no one in the world more special than Mommy.

For the most part, my daughter and I share a pretty healthy relationship--nearly every day we spend at least an hour recapping her day at school and she sometimes extends the time by sharing her music or writing with me. Recently when I suggested we spend some time at a concert together, one in which another mom and daughter were attending, she made it clear that I was to make her friend's mom my new BFF. I told her I understood, but there was a part of me that thought, "Surely, she will want to spend a little time with me." I still had great memories floating about in my head from last year when she and I attended the same concert in Austin. I envisioned the two of us singing and dancing together as we did last year. Well, to cut to the chase, she spent the majority of time with her pals, seeking out the "parentals" only when consumed by hunger, thirst, or in desperate need of money for a band t-shirt.

Driving home from the concert, my Mom-feelings started to smart and I began to slowly and methodically lick my wounds. Over the course of the following few days, I became increasingly aware of my daughter's less-than-sensitive comments about all things pertaining to me and our home: Why do we "always" have chicken for dinner?...Do I have to slurp my morning coffee so loudly?...Didn't I wear those pants yesterday?...Why was I here so early to pick her up?....Why was I late to pick her up? I found myself withdrawing emotionally and spending more time licking the newly inflicted wounds. You would think that, as a psychologist trained to help people open up and talk about their feelings, I would have an easier time than the average person letting my child know mine. Nope. Didn't work that way. I had to mull each slight over and over in my head and allow it to prick my heart. Finally after a few days, I let her know my feelings and how her actions and comments were hurtful. As important as it is to allow a wound to be exposed to fresh air in order to heal, I brought my hurts to light, allowing my daughter and I to work through a difficult time. I listened to her perspective and she listened to mine.

We talked about my expectations and hers, both regarding the concert and also more broadly, to encompass our changing relationship. She is no longer a little girl who needs to hold my hand when she encounters something new, but a young woman who is trying to figure out her own way in the world. I am no longer the idealized mommy with no embarrassing habits or gestures. She is at a place in her life where she is able to see the real me and compare and contrast me to her picture of my ideal. I, too, am at a place that is definitely uncomfortable at times where I am forced to see her as a maturing teenager--complete with romantic crushes, pushing of limits, and experimental behavior. I would never want to keep her encased as a little girl, but the current developmental stage is a scary one: we are both redefining our relationship to each other. Over the next few years, she will be making her preparations to leave the safety of our carefully constructed home to bound off to college and the greater world outside our front door. During that time, I too, will be shifting as I create more space for her to grow into adulthood. She will be less dependent on me for all the things I have encouraged: meal preparation, transportation, clothing, spending money, sharing of confidences and soothing of worries. She will be learning how to take more responsibility for herself and others as she steps toward greater independence. I am learning to nurture her burgeoning separate identity and together we are charting a new, but not final, course as our relationship moves to a more mature level.

Since the day my daughter and I talked, I have thought about how all relationships, no matter the type, must experience growing pains if the relationship is to move forward and deepen. Growing pains are usually not pleasant. Perhaps you can recall your own physical growing pains as a child, the ache in your shin was uncomfortable and, for some, quite painful. The pains signaled your bone and muscle growth as you matured and grew taller. Relationship growing pains can be just as painful, particularly when one person in the relationship is moving forward before the other is ready or aware of the need to move forward. For a relationship to be successful and move to a deeper level, each person needs to help support and encourage the other in the process. If one side refuses to acknowledge the need for change and growth, the relationship will likely eventually fail. In my work with adults and couples, I help my clients to articulate what it is they envision for their relationship and instead of pointing fingers of blame onto the other, I help them to shift their gaze inward and take responsibility for their own behavior and actions in the relationship. Once a partner is able to articulate what they want and need, they are empowered and can begin the steps to create it for themselves, rather than waiting for the other to do it for them.

Last night my daughter and I spent some time reconnecting and I was struck by my own conscious shift to see her not simply as my child, but as a young woman. My thoughts were not stuck in her childhood and my loss, but in the here and now, taking in the sight of her blossoming right in front of me.

Thought for the Day: If your relationship is stuck and stagnant, what shift can you create in yourself to take charge and move it forward?

"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters
of Life's longing for itself. You may give them your love but not
your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their
bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be
like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward
nor tarries with yesterday." --Kahlil Gibran