THE GRIEF OF LETTING GO—WHAT NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT PARENTING TEENS | EP. 245
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.
What if the heaviness you feel as your child grows up isn't about how close or how hard your relationship feels right now, but about something deeper you're being asked to let go of? Because there's a kind of grief that comes from raising teens. It's grief for who they used to be, for how things used to feel, or even for the relationship that you wish you had.
Many of us try to outrun it. We stay busy, we push down our feelings, or tell ourselves we shouldn't feel this way. But what if the grief that you feel isn't the problem? What if it's actually the process that makes space for what comes next? Today I'm talking about the grief of letting go and what no one tells us about why it matters. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
I was sitting in church on Easter Sunday. And stay with me because this is not a religious message. What I'm about to share has nothing to do with what you believe or what you don't believe. Something the minister said that Sunday was really thought-provoking.
Now, I'll be honest, I'm one of those Christmas and maybe Easter churchgoers. The reason I made it this Easter was because I was visiting my parents and my mom is really involved with her church. So we were sitting there listening to the sermon, and I'll be honest, I tend to zone in and out at times during the sermon.
But the minister started talking about Mary Magdalene, who was a close follower of Jesus. And the minister was talking about Mary's experience at the tomb after Jesus had been laid to rest, and how Mary's grief set her apart from everyone else. Something about the way he described her grief got my attention, especially since the feeling of grief can often come up for us in unexpected ways as moms raising and launching our children.
And so I started paying a little closer attention to the sermon's message. So here's Mary at the tomb, experiencing grief, having just lost someone she loved. The minister was talking about how Mary, unlike many of Jesus's other followers, was standing vigil, really as a testament to her experience of allowing her grief, staying present with it.
And because she stayed, because she was willing to be present with that grief, she became one of the first to witness the resurrection. Now again, stick with me. So the way the minister was interpreting the story was that Mary's grief was necessary to make way for something new.
So as I sat there, I immediately started thinking about all of us moms and how this experience of grief is actually part of the process we have to go through in order for us to make way for something new. I work with women all the time who are navigating this very real shift in the relationship they have with their kids. The truth is our kids do grow up.
They start to need us less. Sometimes they even pull away. And over time, they build lives that don't revolve around us in the same way as they used to.
And these changes are real. But what makes it feel so heavy, like grief, isn't just the fact that those changes are happening. It's really how we experience them.
It might be true that our kids don't need us as much as they used to. But when we equate this to a sense that we ourselves are less needed, or that our role is being diminished, it feels like loss. And when we interpret our kids' silence or their one-word answers as a painful shift in our relationship, we experience hurt and sadness.
And for so many of us, the way we experience these changes, especially the ones that we don't want or aren't prepared for, the stage of motherhood can create a very real, deep sense of grief. And I've addressed this experience of grief on this podcast before. But what I haven't explored, and what came up as an opportunity for me as I was listening to this sermon, was this concept that grief actually has a purpose.
That it, in fact, might be required to create what's next. And I don't think this is how we typically think about grief. I think for most of us, grief is something we tolerate, something we try to get through, or that we wish would just go away as quickly as possible.
We don't typically think of it as something that's actually doing something for us. If anything, we tend to think of grief as something that's in the way. Like, if I could just stop feeling this way, then I could move on.
I could finally feel better. Moms will often come to me and share that they want to give up this grief. They'll tell me that what they want to do is just figure out what's next, fill their time, or find new purpose so they don't have to feel this heavy feeling.
Our instinct, when we feel these negative, painful feelings, is that we try to stay busy, or we try to recreate that feeling of being needed somewhere else. We can also shame ourselves for our grief, telling ourselves we should just be grateful that our kids are off living their lives. I mean, isn't that what we wanted? And look, I offer all of this not to judge it.
These are often the very real ways we try to get through our pain. But what we're often doing when we react this way is that we're trying to get around the grief instead of going through it. It's interesting to consider that grief isn't actually the problem, but instead that it's the process that allows us to loosen our grip on what was.
It's really our brain's way of learning how to stop holding on to a version of our lives, or of our kids, or of our past role, that no longer exists in the same way. Because if we don't allow our grief, if we don't actually go through the process of feeling it, we stay attached. We stay in this place of wishing things were different, wishing things were how they used to be.
And from that place, when we're holding on to the past, it's almost impossible to create something new. I think there's a part of this that we can have a hard time wrapping our heads around. Because when we say we're grieving, it can feel like, why is this hard? What exactly am I grieving? My child is still here.
They're still living their lives. Maybe they're still even living with you or coming home on a regular basis. So your mind fights you a bit.
Like, why does this feel so much like loss? One way to think about this is that we're not grieving our child. We're grieving the past versions of them. We're grieving the little kid who wanted to sit next to us on the couch.
The one who gave their hugs and their I love you's freely. We miss the version of our child who told us everything. The one who needed us.
We're also grieving the version of the relationship where it felt easy and close and uncomplicated. And on top of all of that, we're also grieving who we got to be in that version of the relationship. We got to be the one who was needed.
We also knew our role and our place in our kid's life, that it mattered. And there was a certainty in that. We didn't have to question it.
But as all of this starts to change, and sometimes in ways that feel sudden, like overnight somehow you went from being the trusted, loved mom to some kind of annoying pariah, or to someone who your kid doesn't seem to be able to bother to have a conversation with. You go from feeling valuable and needed and loved to unneeded, unappreciated, maybe even unloved. This is a huge shift.
And the we are now, with where we feel like we were just a few years or months ago. And to be honest, I think our minds consciously or unconsciously try to hold on. We compare how things used to feel to how they feel now.
We find ourselves wishing that we could go back in time, that we could somehow recapture that version of our relationship, that version of ourselves, who felt so much more confident in her role. And this makes so much sense. The truth is, there has been so much about being a mom that has been so meaningful and beautiful.
But when we hold on to these memories in a way that makes the present feel like a big disappointment, or like something has gone wrong, that's when we experience pain. The truth is, that version of your child, and even that version of your relationship, isn't something you were ever meant to hold on to. When you really think about it, the relationship we had with our kids when they were little, it wasn't a relationship of equals.
It was a relationship where we were in charge, where they depended on us for everything. And again, there was something really beautiful about all of that. We felt close, we felt needed, and there was a simplicity to it.
But that version of the relationship, where I'm the mom and you're my dependent child, could never last. As your child grows, as they start to think for themselves and make their own decisions, start to question things, that relationship has to change. And not because anything has gone wrong, but because our kids are starting to see themselves as independent.
They're figuring out who they are separate from you. They're deciding what they think and what works for them. And that can feel at times like they're pulling away, or even like they're rejecting you.
And believe me, I know this does not feel good. But it's also the process of them becoming who they're meant to be. But even when we understand that intellectually, we can still feel the loss of it, the grief of it.
And that's not a sign that something's gone wrong with us. It's really a sign that something is changing, and that something mattered. And I think this is where we get stuck.
Because even if we can intellectually understand that the past version of our kids was never meant to last, there's still a part of us that doesn't want to let it go. So we hold on to it in subtle ways. We hold on to how it used to feel, or to the memory of who our kids used to be with us.
We hold on to the idea that maybe if we just say it right, or do the right thing, we can get that version of the relationship back. And we don't do this consciously, but you can feel that pull to go backwards, that resistance to the reality of what is. The message the minister shared was that if we don't actually allow ourselves to grieve what has changed, we cling to it.
We stay attached to it. We keep comparing what we see now to what we preferred about the past. We also hold on to the shame and the guilt of those past mistakes, that we become convinced are the reason things feel broken now.
We essentially interpret everything that's happening with our kids now through the lens of what used to be. And from that place, everything feels worse. The distance feels more painful.
The silence feels personal. The change feels like something has gone wrong. But what if the grief is what allows you to let all of that go? What if the process of allowing yourself to feel that sadness, that sense of loss, is actually what allows you to loosen your grip on it? Because when you stop fighting the grief, when you stop trying to push it away or replace it or outrun it, and you give yourself the space to simply allow it, to understand it and build compassion for it, that's when something starts to change.
You find you don't feel the need to hold on to the past. You stop needing things to feel the way they used to in order to feel okay. And as you open up the space to let go of the past, and open yourself up to the reality of what is now, that's when you create space for a different kind of relationship.
Really a new relationship with your child. One where you give them the grace to show up exactly as they are right now. Not without boundaries or even guidance, but one with a deep sense of acceptance that your child is a new version of themselves.
That they are constantly evolving and growing and changing and learning and figuring themselves out, but now increasingly in ways that don't center around you. And instead of resisting that or taking it personally, or trying to pull them back into who they used to be, you begin to meet this new version of your child with the same unconditional love that you gave every other version that came before. The toddler, the little kid, that middle schooler who was so awkward.
Every single version of your child required something different from you, and this one does too. This version of your child doesn't need you in the same way, but they still need you. In fact, what they need from you now is that they need you to see them, to respect their need for independence, even if it doesn't feel comfortable.
They need you to trust them, that in their own way, they also want what you want for them. That they also want to feel safe and happy and successful in their lives. But they've already learned that they have to create that for themselves, and that as much as you love them, you can't give that to them.
Maybe most importantly, what your child needs now is for you to love them without needing them to be different, in order for you to feel okay. And my friend, when you can show up in this way, this is when the relationship transforms. It becomes something that's chosen and not required.
Something that's built on mutual respect and not dependence. Something that over time can become even deeper, because it's no longer about needing each other, it's about wanting to be in each other's lives. And my friend, as you process your grief and create space for this new relationship with your child, you're also creating space for a new relationship with yourself.
Because for so long, so much of your identity as a mom and your sense of purpose has been wrapped up in being needed, in being the one who knows and fixes, the one who can keep your child moving in the right direction. As that purpose shifts, it can feel like something is missing. And that's where so many of us rush to fill in this space.
We look for that next role, or the next way to feel productive or valuable. But what if, instead of rushing to fill that space, you allowed yourself to move through it? As you stop clinging to who you were in that earlier version of motherhood, you create space to redefine who you are now. Not just as a mom, but as a woman moving into this next chapter of her life.
Who do you want to be as a mom as your child moves into adulthood? How do you set boundaries and expectations with them and yourself, so that you're clear about what you want, but also what's in your control? And maybe even more importantly, how do you show up as the version of yourself who invites rather than demands connection? This process of allowing grief also creates space for you to reconnect with what matters to you outside of being a mom. So often we connect our sense of purpose to the role of motherhood, and we forget that we actually created that purpose by making an intentional decision to invest our time and energy and love into this role. This wasn't actually about our kids.
It was about us and what's mattered to us. And you get to re-decide right now what matters to you. To discover what you want, independent of what anyone else needs from you.
All of this can feel really uncomfortable at first, but it's also how you create a sense of self and well-being that isn't dependent on everything being exactly as you want it to be. And just like with your child, this isn't about becoming someone completely different. It's about meeting this version of yourself.
The question is, how can you make peace with letting go of that past version of yourself in order to meet this version of yourself right now with curiosity, compassion, and unconditional love? We think we have to fix our relationship with our kids or figure out what's next for us before we can create something new or feel better, but maybe the grief comes first. Truly allowing being present with your grief offers you the opportunity to let go of what no longer exists, and also let go of the illusion that you can recreate it. When you resist that grief, you stay stuck in the belief that what is right now shouldn't be happening.
You can also cling to the belief that you've lost something that you're entitled to. And all of this keeps you stuck in more pain and hurt and resentment and frustration. And all of this blocks you from stepping into the next evolution of your relationship with your child.
My friend, I'm not saying it's easy. I'm not saying that there aren't some versions of your kid right now that you truly wish were different. I know that there are, but the truth is even this stage is fleeting.
You are in the midst of the messy process of watching your child become something new, like that caterpillar that transforms into a butterfly. Many of those stages do not look pretty, but they are required. Your child is in the process of becoming someone new, and the relationship you have with them is also in the process of becoming something new.
You can't be present for this right now without letting go of the past. Grief, anxiety, frustration, hurt, and resentment, all of that is mixed with love and joy and pride and hope. And our work in the stage of motherhood is to learn how to meet all of these emotions without losing ourselves in the process.
Because when we don't understand what's creating that experience for us, it can feel like something has gone wrong, like we're losing something we're supposed to hold on to. And that's what makes the stage of motherhood so hard, actually what makes it so hard to let go. But what if moving through that grief and those emotions is what opens you up to what's next? This, my friend, is the work we do inside of Mom 2.0. My goal is to empower you to understand what's creating your emotional experience, so that you can move through this stage of motherhood with more confidence and a deeper sense of peace, so that you can let go of what no longer serves you, show up differently in your relationship with your child, and open the door to what comes next.
What if nothing has gone wrong? The grief that you're feeling is not a sign that you're losing your child. It simply means that something mattered deeply to you, and it's changing. What if your willingness to stay present with your grief is actually what will allow you to see what's coming next? Because there is something next.
There is a new version of your relationship with your child waiting to be created, and there is a new version of you waiting to be discovered. But you don't get there by skipping this hard part. You get there by allowing it, and by letting go of what no longer exists, so that you can make space for what is right now.
This is the work of this stage of motherhood, to love your big kid even as they grow away from you, and also to find yourself as you let go. 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.
