We are on a precipice. It’s not too treacherous-looking ahead, but a bit unknown, a bit “leap-and-the-net-will-appear”-scary.
I’ve been working a lot lately on fears. Facing them (i.e. walking on fire!), feeling them, being in them and having that be ok. Recognizing that fear is sometimes (often, actually) just “excitement without the breath”. That is to say, if you take some breaths, reminding yourself to breathe, maybe you’re actually just excited, and on the verge of something new and unknown, and that is ok, it is actually great, and you are going to be ok.
How often, really, are we in actual danger? Ok our toddlers get themselves into sticky situations, inducing the call of “careful!” and “watch out” from us over-protective-but-trying-to-give-them-space mamas.
But really, truly, what is the danger in, say, launching a new business? Moving to a new home? Quitting a job? Rejection, isolation, debt/poverty, and maybe shame? Not that we want to revel in all of these things, but really, for the chance at something new, better, and probably more in alignement with your true calling/life’s work/purpose, these are probably small prices to pay! And they really only affect us as much as we let them.
I’m a control freak. I know it, I recognize it and I’m working on releasing that part of my identity. It really doesn’t serve me well very often. I micro-manage to the point of stress and headaches and backaches and sleepless worry. It’s no good for anyone. So I’m trying to let go, let things flow as they will, let others be in charge of themselves (as much as a two year-old can be, I suppose) and it looks like that approach is working out.
So next week we will start a new chapter, wherein our little darling girl, who has been in our care or that of a family member or trusted friend for her entire existence, will then go off to school. It’s a toddler program at our local Montessori school. We know in our hearts that it will be a nurturing, loving, gentle and inspiring environment. We know this. And yet we are scared to death.
To let her go. Even for a few hours a day, to be out of our control. To walk away. I can already see myself crying all the way home the first day I leave her. But then, the freedom — for her, to make new friends, show off her stellar vocabulary (words like “mention” and “suggest” have been used properly this week. sheesh!), explore a new environment and really, truly, to grow wings and be her own person. And for us, the freedom for me to work more (!), and that means more financial freedom for us all, the possibility of my love staying home with the girl more, spending afternoons together hiking and who-knows-what, and also the true freedom of knowing we made a decision based on what we think (and hope and know) is right for all of us, and letting go of a little bit of responsibility in how/who she develops to be — and that it can be a good thing to let that go. Phew!
Freedom, all around. And that feels right. Still a little scary, but actually, when I remember to breathe, it’s very very exciting!