The Struggle

My greatest parenting challenge has been reminding myself that I am doing her no favors by protecting her from pain or embarrassment or struggle. When I see self doubt blossom like an unwanted weed in her being, I want to yank it out and in its place plant every unspoken affection. I want to turn her many small fears to great and unbridled freedom, her occassional sorrow to infinite joy. Yet I know this is not how you grow a healthy human. It is precisely these struggles, and how we overcome them, that allow our species to thrive, that keeps us human. That makes us better humans, humans who grow to keep and pass on the best of humanity. But oh, is it hard. And oh, what a fine balance.

Although I know not that I am doing everything right as a mother or a role model, I know that I do some things well: I am clear in both my love and my like for her, and I read to her, and, now, with her. I read of people who struggle and persevere and find good humor in bad situations and love against all odds. I demonstrate empathy and a high self regard and perseverance. I forgive. But I do so struggle with allowing her to feel consequences, with allowing her to cry and work through a problem or sorrow. This, I know, needs work.

Even so, there is a part of me, a strong part, that believes this world full of enough suffering and pain and embarrassment and hardship, and if one cannot offer a bit of a repreive from that at home, in one's safe space, then where can you? I don't want to rush the future, but I certainly wish there was some way to know if this gut instinct is correct.

Anyway, that's enough of my own self doubt for tonight. Perhaps clarity will come with another day.

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