Five Profound Life Lessons My Daughters Taught Me

On Friday, my daughters and I hopped on a Zoom call to discuss things coming up in the book and have a check-in. My daughters and I had one hour to talk about all of the things needed. As a mom, it is never enough, but I take what I can get. One is “grown and flown,” and the other is grown and halfway flown. 

When they first went away to do their thing, I was unprepared. I thought I had more time, but my youngest had received a scholarship to an art school that she couldn’t pass up, so they both left at the same time. One at just 18 and the other at 16. SIXTEEN. 

I had the same thoughts as everyone else. Did I do enough? Were they ready? I have been obsessed for years about my parenting because my mom said, “You will be a horrible mom.” I gave her that power and believed her.

As I complete this book and reflect on the beautiful messes that the three of us are, I am reminded that our children teach us so much more than we realize.

They taught me forgiveness.

My oldest was bullied as a junior in high school and it was one of those times that as a parent, you feel so helpless and hopeless. As a mom, you feel the pain that they feel but it also hits your insecure pressure points. You get mad and the mama bear has to be cautious because she gets a say in her life.

She chose to handle most of it herself.  Navigating that year was horrible. She and her friend were outcasts because of a comment made and taken out of context. In her words, “the whole school hated her.” 

Yet, at the end of her senior year, these same girls were sitting around the island in my kitchen hanging out and talking like mature women. At our house, we celebrate growth in ourselves and others. My daughters both look for that in others and they do not just talk about it. Their actions speak louder than words.

I can be like a dog with a bone. I am not one to easily forgive people that have hurt me, let alone hurt my children. I am glad my daughters show me the way, their dignity, and grace challenge me to be better.

They swing big, miss, and keep swinging.

My youngest wanted to go to an art school for musical theater that was 700 miles away. No. Nope. That was not going to happen.  Instead, she tried out for their summer program. She was accepted for the summer program in Opera but it was not what she wanted. 

Bummed but happy to be accepted, she went that summer for Opera and was selected to come to the school full-time as a sophomore Opera student. She was not ready to go 700 miles away as a sophomore (my heart hurt just thinking about it.), but she asked them to defer the scholarship and we agreed that we had to work on a lot of independence for that to happen. 

She also wanted to try out for the musical theater program one more time. 

Hours upon hours were spent on the piano, in lessons, and the house was filled with music.

She tried out one more time and was selected for that program and went as a junior to do what she loved. She went 700 miles away and did amazing things. She took a risk and did not quit.

Every time I try new things, or think my “old lady dreams” are “too big”, I am reminded that my children swing big, miss, and keep swinging until they get where they need to be. She learned to fail forward, and that is the most amazing lesson of all.

They embraced and discovered their processes.

Each girl is the opposite of the other, even though they are close in age. Each girl liked different things, learned in different ways, and had their obstacles. They were also very different from me.  

I often see parents struggle because they expect their kids to be like them, and that is the worst thing we can do to children (force kids to be a smaller version of ourselves). Both girls had their own space to “figure things out.” It was one of the hardest things to do as a parent, yet the best.

We live in the process, and you have to embrace the process to enjoy life. The process is where the struggle is and where you learn. If you live for the goal and the goal alone, most of your life will be wasted waiting for something big to happen. I can now see how the little moments made the biggest difference in each of them. We learned to celebrate the smallest of growths. “But it is growth!” we would say. 

I remember trying to tell my oldest how to organize herself for high school. 

“Mom, stop. I figured that out years ago. I have a system.” 

As long as their system works, then I have to step back and let that system and process take place. Now, I am figuring out my process, I understand that it continues to unfold and develop as we learn and grow.

They make me brave.

I can easily put myself in an “I Can’t” prison. I believe that is a natural thing that can occur with a lifetime of experiences. 

I can be afraid of pain. I can be afraid of new things. I can be afraid of failure, but I can also be afraid to succeed. I can be afraid to question the ‘norm’. I can be afraid of being stuck. I can be afraid of danger or peace. I can be afraid to get “too excited” and afraid of being numb. I can be afraid of being too much or not enough.

My fear can keep me from living the life I imagine. I always cheered them on as they made decisions and mistakes moving forward. As they grew, they truly created their lives by taking action upon action, being afraid, then doing things afraid. When they left to go to school, they said, “Mom, it is your turn. Go do your thing!”

I did not know how. I had cheered in the shadows for a long time, and now they were calling me to action. I began taking baby steps and asking really hard questions. I began changing “I Can’t.” to “What can I do? What do I want to do?” Slowly and in small increments, I began being brave for myself. In all of my life, I have lived for others, now, it is my turn. They gave me their blessing to do my thing, and I am.

I often talk about how my childhood sexual abuse group helped me come out of my “I Can’t” prison. The bravery it took for each woman to show up and be seen was one step toward healing. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done, aside from keeping secrets, was facing the past and uncovering memories that I was told to forget. 

I had to heal to be the woman I wanted to be.

They help me be an explorer, not a settler.

My children see life so differently than me, and it challenges me to see the world in a new way through their friends and their experiences. They are open to thinking beyond their experiences, and they seek to understand through their curiosity. 

In life, people can be categorized as “settlers” or “explorers” based on their approach to experiences and challenges. Settlers tend to prefer stability and familiarity, seeking comfort in established routines and environments. They may be content with staying in their comfort zones, avoiding risks and potential disruptions. On the other hand, explorers embrace novelty and change, constantly seeking new opportunities and adventures. They thrive on pushing boundaries, taking risks, and embracing the unknown. In various aspects of life, settlers may prefer steady jobs, predictable relationships, and familiar surroundings, while explorers may embrace frequent career changes, new relationships, and travel. Both approaches have their benefits, and a balanced combination of settling and exploring can lead to a fulfilling and well-rounded life.

I had lived for a long time as a settler, but deep inside, I wanted to be an explorer. I had no idea where to start. They cheered me on, “Mom, just do it!” I made a list called, “Things That Make Me Feel Alive,” and every day I did one thing that brought me back to life.

Over the last four years, I have become the woman I always wanted to be because their love and the love of other friends gave me hope and purpose. They made me participate in my trapeze circus show and had me so fired up; I even wore a red unitard with rhinestones. 

They are the women I never had the opportunity to be at their age. This has nothing to do with their accomplishments. They have struggles and barriers, but they have the tools to meet and process those struggles differently than I ever did. 

I believe the first 18 years are filled with learning and lessons, and after that, it is a performance review. Have you built a relationship that your kids want to return home to without obligation? I hope I have.

I remember that I often had to “parent through my pain.” As I healed and grew, I took the lessons I learned and taught them to my daughters in a preventive way. I never shared details, just the current state of the process and what I was learning. I always second-guessed myself and was obsessed with my decisions. Looking back, I see the messy process, how we embraced it, and how we were willing to learn from one another. As this book comes to completion, I will be wrapping a bow around the past and becoming an explorer of my future.