THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK—"I'M RELIEVED WHEN MY BIG KIG ISN'T HOME” | EP. 226
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever had a thought as a mom and then immediately felt terrible for thinking it? Believe me, you're not alone, and you're truly not a bad mom for thinking it. In this series on the thoughts us moms are ashamed we think, I'm exploring these thoughts and where they're coming from. Because when you shift from judgment to understanding, that's when everything changes. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
There was a time a number of years ago when I would track whether or not my son was home, because I wanted to prepare myself if he was. There were also times when I'd be home and I'd hear the car pull out of the driveway, and I'd breathe a sigh of relief. There are few things more terrible to feel than the shame of realizing it's easier when your big kid isn't around.
Even at that time, I remember thinking, what kind of mother feels relieved when her kid leaves the house? The thing is, I love my son. Even at that time, when things were really hard, I loved him with all my heart. But being around him was hard, and for so many reasons.
But the biggest was probably that it was clear that he didn't at all want to be around me. It took a lot of strength to be present with what felt like constant rejection, and also not to react or do something to make it worse. And so in those moments when I felt like I could regroup and be by myself at home, it felt easier, but also devastating.
That thought, it's easier when my teen isn't around, can be true in so many different contexts. For some moms, we can feel like we're walking on eggshells. It's less about feeling rejected and more about feeling this constant tension.
You can feel like no matter what you say, it's met with some harsh or rude response. You find yourself bracing for the next argument, the unexpected pushback. So while you're with your big kid in the house, you feel like you're constantly on alert.
But then when they leave, it's like you can stop bracing for a bit. For other moms, the relief comes from the break you get from monitoring your kid. Some of us feel like we have to be constantly on our kids to make sure they're doing their homework or taking care of their responsibilities.
We can also feel like it's on us to make sure they're engaging in healthy behaviors, like not sucked into social media or interacting with strangers online, not sitting there gaming 24-7. Or maybe you're starting to think you're on your kid too much. And whenever they're around, it's like you feel the stress of having to hold yourself back, to bite your tongue.
There's so much you want to say, but you don't want to nag. So you're constantly torn between saying something or not saying something, setting a boundary or letting it go, almost at war within yourself for how to approach your big kid. All of this monitoring and self-restraint and bracing, it's exhausting.
So when your big kid leaves the house, it's not that you're glad they're gone, but at the same time, it's a relief to feel that weight fall off your shoulders for just a bit. The same thing can happen if your big kid has been struggling with school or their mental health, or maybe you fear they're drinking or vaping too much or taking drugs. When they're around, you can feel like you're constantly worried, and maybe also not sure of what you're going to be called on to do to support them, like you're waiting for that shoe to drop.
I've had moms describe these scenarios to me, both when their kids are still living at home and when their kids are already out of the house. These small moments, when you get a little relief from the tension and frustration and worry, this relief is not a happy place. It feels more like you're setting down a heavy load and you're exhausted, but you know you have to pick that load right back up.
It's really only a small break from the inevitable return of the pain. So the relief doesn't feel good, in part because we're exhausted, but also a part of us can feel shame. Because what does this say about us as moms if we feel better when our kids aren't around? I mean, if we really loved them, would we be feeling this way? And the answer is yes.
This feeling of relief doesn't mean you don't love your big kid. It simply means that something has lifted, if even just for a small moment. Maybe what lifted was pressure or responsibility, the heaviness of feeling like you're always getting it wrong.
Maybe it's a break from the anxiety or the frustration or that feeling of rejection. The problem is that our minds can interpret this relief as meaning that there's something wrong with us. I just got off a call with a mom who kept saying, this is on me, this is my fault.
If I'd only done this sooner or if I could just be more like this, this wouldn't be happening. We judge how we're showing up. Like, if I were just more patient or more supportive, if I could just listen.
Essentially, if I could be a better mom, then my relationship with my kid wouldn't be this way. I wouldn't have to be in a position where I felt better when my kid wasn't around. Some moms have even admitted to me that they think they're a bad mom for needing space from their own child.
Moms have even said to me, the truth is, I don't know if I like my kid. And right after they say that, they say, what kind of mom feels this way? We say these things about ourselves as if it's the truth. But notice how these aren't neutral observations.
In reality, what they are are moral judgments about who we are, as moms, as people. The truth is, all that's happening is a shift in how we're feeling. But instead of just noticing this and giving ourselves permission to get curious about it, we often go to the place of judging ourselves, like we're doing it wrong for feeling this way.
It's amazing that somehow we put motherhood on a pedestal, thinking that loving our kids means we should be endlessly patient, that we should never feel these negative emotions toward our kids. So if we're feeling relieved when our kids aren't around, it's almost like we assume that somehow we've violated some moral code of what motherhood is supposed to look like. Instead of getting curious about what we're feeling, we turn inward and decide the problem must be us.
Before I go any further, I want to challenge this self-judgment and say this. Being around someone who is moody and combative and withdrawn or unpleasant, it's hard. Full stop.
If you ran into a stranger on the street who was acting the way your teen acts at times, dismissive, rude, irritated, you would probably do one of two things. You'd either think, wow, they're having a hard day, and you'd just move on. Or you'd decide this isn't someone you want to be around, and you'd just walk away.
We typically don't seek out opportunities to be around people who feel emotionally draining. In fact, with people outside our families, that's often called having boundaries. We choose friendships.
We limit time with people who take more than they give. We protect our energy without a second thought. But when it comes to our kids, walking away and just distancing yourself from them doesn't feel like an option.
And look, we love our kids, no matter what they do, no matter how they behave or how hard they are to be around. But let's just take a second to appreciate how much this asks of you to love someone so much while they act in ways that feel dismissive or hurtful, while you're trying so hard to stay calm and not make it worse, or try to help them be the best version of themselves, to stay connected to them. Meanwhile, you're holding all this frustration and anxiety and heartbreak.
That is a lot, my friend. So the truth is, you're not a bad mom for feeling a bit of relief when you get those small moments when you don't have to juggle your love anger, frustration, and anxiety all at the same time. But there's another layer here that I want to explore.
I've talked before about how we all experience the circumstances of our lives through a particular lens. Two people can be standing in the same situation and feel completely different about it depending on what they're thinking. So if you had come over to my house during that period when my son and I were struggling, if you had been there and you had been standing right next to me during those interactions, you would have seen a teenage boy who you might have said was distracted, not very engaged or interested in having a conversation with me.
In other words, you might have thought to yourself, yep, that's a typical teenager. And even if you felt a bit of empathy for me because you could probably relate to why I was feeling hurt or rejected, you would not have been feeling hurt or rejected. And on one level, it's easy to say, of course, because he's not my kid.
But I think that's actually the point. Because when it's your own kid, you don't just see behavior for what it is. We attribute meaning to it.
And that meaning can be any number of things. We might take their behavior personally or interpret their distance as rejection. Their tone is disrespectful.
We might make them pulling away mean that we did something wrong. And look, sometimes our kids do say things that are incredibly personal. They might know our insecurities and know how to hit us where it hurts.
They can also throw past mistakes or regrets back in our faces in ways that feel really terrible. And I know these moments are exceptionally hard not to take personally. But on top of taking things personally, we might also feel an intense responsibility to fix what's going on with our kid or whatever they're struggling with.
If they're making choices we don't like or that we think matter for their future, we feel the need to step in. If they're pulling away, we can feel panicked. I know for me, when I was afraid my son was going down a path that would cost him opportunities he had worked so hard for, I felt like I had to get through to him.
And the more he stopped listening, the more urgent my advice felt. I was already seeing evidence of everything I feared, and it made it almost impossible to let go. I felt like I had to get through to him before it was too late.
We can also catastrophize. We imagine that whatever's going on, that it's always going to be this way. We tell ourselves time is running out, that if things don't change now, they never will.
And suddenly we're not just reacting to what's happening, we're reacting to our fears of what might happen in the future. Honestly, when you put all of that together, is it really any wonder that being around your big kid can feel so tense and overwhelming? It's hurt, rejection, frustration, anxiety, panic, urgency, tension, guilt, doubt. That's a lot of pain, all wrapped into what feels like most of our interactions with our kids when we're going through these difficult moments.
So for all of these reasons, it's really no wonder that we feel a bit relieved when we can be home, alone, and not manage all of this. And this isn't at all because we don't love our kids, but really because for a moment, we put that responsibility down. So let me slow down here because this part is subtle, but really important.
What's actually making this all so hard isn't just your big kid's behavior, it's how much responsibility you're taking on because you love them. When it's your kid, it's almost impossible to just observe what's happening and let it be neutral. We don't just see a teen being distant or a typical teen, we see a problem that needs to be addressed or a relationship that needs fixing and we carry the responsibility for that.
In fact, when it comes to our kids, we feel responsible for so much, for their choices, their future, even their emotions, whether or not they're okay. And for sure, we carry the responsibility for wanting a strong connection with them. And when these things aren't going the way that we want, it's like we're carrying all of that weight inside our own bodies.
We're not just noticing what's happening, we're reacting to it, worrying about it, trying to manage or fix it. Every interaction feels like it has this weight, like it's a chance for us to correct course, to try to get through to them. I remember at one point when things were really hard with my son, I started talking to a therapist.
And to be honest, I wasn't really there for me. I was there because I was trying to find help for him. I was explaining what was going on and how much he had pulled away and how worried I was about the path he was on.
And the therapist said to me, it sounds like your son is trying really hard to break away from you. I'll be honest, I was offended. I remember thinking, you don't know me.
You don't know how much I've done for my son. I didn't come here to be judged. I'm just trying to help my kid.
But what I can see now, years later, is that she touched on something I wasn't ready to let go of yet. Because as painful as it was, she was probably right. My son needed space to figure out who he was, separate from my hopes and fears for him.
And as much as I wanted to guide and protect him, I was realizing I had absolutely no power to do any of that without his buy-in. And at that time, it felt terrifying. I now have perspective on how messy the stage of life is for kids.
I've heard hundreds of stories from moms. Stories of cruel words and kids locked up in their rooms, being defiant. So much hurt and heartbreak.
We try to take it and show up calmly. But at some point, it's hard not to lose it. You can only bottle it up for so long before all that pain has to go somewhere.
And how many of us have just lost it on our kids, yelling, saying things we regret, or just not showing up in the way we wanted to, and then later found ourselves alone, crying. Because no matter what we do, whether we're calm or whether we lose it, we can't get through to them. It's devastating.
And my friend, I've been there too. The stage of parenting is messy. And it's hard to reconcile all of this pain and hurt and heartbreak with how much we love our kids, with how much we've invested in raising them.
So here's what's really interesting. When your teen isn't home and you feel that small moment of relief, what really has changed? The truth is the circumstances are only different in that your kid is not immediately in your presence. And honestly, that's often true even when they are home, right? They're up in their room with the door closed, their earbuds in or absorbed with their phone or on some game.
They might physically be in the house, but they're not actually with you. And yet somehow our experience feels completely different when they physically leave the house. And this is why.
Because when they're not home, you're not mentally or emotionally managing your relationship. You're not bracing yourself for an interaction with them or wondering what mood they're going to be in or whether you should go knock on the door and say something. You're not wondering what they're doing up there or wondering what it meant when they gave you that look when they walked by.
Nothing about your big kid has actually changed when they leave the house. But what's changed is what you're doing on the inside. When they're gone, you stop holding responsibility for how the next interaction might go.
Essentially, you stop carrying the emotional weight of the relationship for just a bit. The truth is that small relief you feel isn't coming from their absence. It's coming from the shift that happens inside of you.
It's coming from the fact that for at least a small moment, you're no longer actively trying to manage or fix or interpret what's happening. You're simply being present with yourself. Really think about that for a moment.
Nothing has changed about your big kid or what they're going through or even how they're acting. But somehow when they leave, you get this small moment to put the weight of that down. And it's not because the weight doesn't exist in your mind.
It's that you've given yourself permission to set it down. So much of why this experience of raising teens who are pulling away or pushing against us is so hard is not just because of what they're doing. What makes it so hard is the pain that comes from the weight of this responsibility and the roles we've been trying to play in relation to our kids.
The role of the fixer, the protector, the emotional support system. And these roles become really hard to play when your kid rejects them or rejects you. You're still feeling the responsibility but feeling none of the success in filling these roles.
And that's a lot to carry. So notice just for a moment what happens when you give yourself permission to set that down, even for just a moment. Now let me ask you, what if you don't actually need your teen to leave the house to set it down? And I'm not saying that you stop loving your kid or stop caring about them or even that you stop engaging with them or trying to support them.
What it really means is giving yourself permission to set down responsibility for managing who they are or what they're experiencing and instead focus on who you choose to be in response to that. My friend, this is how you can start accessing that relief, really the peace and confidence, even when your big kid is standing right in front of you. And I know this feels really hard to do.
For years, decades really, you've been conditioned to believe that good motherhood means staying emotionally responsible. It means anticipating and guiding and fixing, worrying and putting yourself last. So when you think about setting that responsibility down, your brain doesn't interpret that as healthy or wise.
It interprets it as risky, like you're letting something important go. But the truth is, as much as we might wish otherwise, we actually don't have the power to change our big kids. We can't manage their moods or control their choices.
And we definitely can't force them to see things the way we do. And when we keep trying, it doesn't just exhaust us, it steals our peace and confidence as moms. And it even starts to impact the relationship we have with our kids.
So if we can't control or manage who our kids are or what they're going through, the only place we really have leverage is within ourselves. With how much responsibility we take on and how we process what's going on in our kids' lives and with our relationship. The power we have is in choosing who we want to be, given how our big kid is acting or what they're going through.
Making these decisions, accessing the power within you to be who you want to be as a mom. This is the work we do inside my coaching program, Mom 2.0. It's not about changing your teen or learning the right way to parent. It's about helping you to see where you're taking on responsibility that isn't yours and learning how to access that peace and confidence that allows you to show up as the mom you want to be, even when things with your big kid are hard.
So if you ever notice that thought float through your mind, that it's easier when my teen isn't around, I want to invite you to pause before you judge it. Because this thought has nothing to do with how much you love your child. And it's not evidence that you're doing motherhood wrong.
It's simply information. It's your nervous system telling you that you've been holding responsibility and anxiety and emotional weight that doesn't all belong to you. And the relief you feel when your big kid isn't home isn't something to be ashamed of.
It's a reminder of what becomes possible when you stop managing and stop trying to fix and simply come back to yourself. You don't need to love or care less. What you're really longing for is to feel grounded and confident and at peace while your big kid is still right there in front of you.
And that is available to you, even in the hard and messy moments. My friend, the relief you're searching for doesn't come from their absence. It happens when you give yourself permission to stop caring what isn't yours.
Until next time.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass. There's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
