It doesn’t sound right, does it? We’re supposed to care about the people we love; the more the better. Caring too much, however, can actually get in the way of loving, especially when it comes to my children! 
Right now, all three of my 20-somethings have recently entered new relationships, all begun on online dating apps like Tinder, something that feels foreign and a little scary to me. Naturally, I am curious and interested in getting to know my kids’ new love interests. As I listen and ask questions, I feel open-hearted and happy and excited for them. But I also feel fear. Will this relationship bring them joy or sorrow? Will it be long-term or temporary? My kids are all at the age that they are thinking about becoming more seriously committed. What are the mental health, family and dating histories of these potential new members of our family? Acting on these fears is likely to undermine our relationships.
I learned about caring less from my mother, who raised me with what one might call a benign neglect. I never had the sense that my mom worried much about me growing up. While she was always interested in my life, she was interested in herself as well. She seemed to trust that whatever it was I needed to learn, I was capable of figuring it out without her help. This gave me a sense of independence and self-confidence. Because of this I always felt I could go to her with both the good, bad and ugly in my life. She always listened with compassion, and rarely any judgement.
My mother wasn’t perfect, but her example taught me that the greatest gift I can give me kids is to trust them, that whatever they need to do in life, they will be able to do. From very early on, when they were still young children, I started to practice caring less and loving more. As with every other family, there were plenty of times when I felt the urge to take over. One of them developed OCD at the age of 8, another social anxiety at 13, another substance abuse in adolescence. In each of those situations, I didn’t know how things would turn out. I could give my children support and resources, but I had to remind myself that each child had a personal trajectory, with challenges they would need to master themselves.
As my fears arose, rather than resisting them, I acclimated myself to them by imagining the worst case scenerios—that they might end up with chronic mental health issues, isolated, depressed, even homeless. However painful it was, I knew that ultimately I did not have control of their lives or how things would turn out. With practice, I became more acclimated to my fear about my children’s futures, allowing me to be more present for them when they share their lives with me. Listening to them talk about their new love interests, when I feel that pull of attaching to the outcome, I remind myself again that
I can’t control their futures, and I don’t need to try. All I need to do is be supportive, open-hearted, and genuinely trust that my children will make the best of their lives. That trust, I have found, is the lifeblood of my relationship with my children. By caring a little less, I can love a little more. And the more I love, the more love I get back!
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