An Open Letter to My Favorite Grown-Up

You are perfect in your imperfection

First and foremost, my barely adult child, I am so proud of you. You are an amazing person, and you are doing a great job.

I know adulthood can be overwhelming, and it often feels like you’re not meeting expectations, but trust me when I tell you that there are no set rules. And if there were, you’d be killing it anyway.

You are an amazing human being, and I could not be any prouder of you than I am.

The beauty of adulthood, “baby” girl, is that you now make your own rules (to a point, of course).

I tried to help you set healthy limits as you grew. I taught you that your body is always your own, and no one has the right to touch it without your permission. I taught you that if anyone ever made you feel violated that you had the right to respond in any way you needed to, so you would feel safe. I would have your back no matter what that looked like, and no matter what anyone else thought about it.

I taught you that you should always do your best and that you are capable of great things. I taught you that potential was meant to be reached. That any task you take on should be completed to the best of your ability.

I taught you to trust yourself, but to be stingy with trusting other people, until you know them well enough that you know they deserve that trust. Your heart is special, and it shouldn’t be given to just anyone.

I taught you that there are no limits to what you’re allowed to dream of. If your heart is calling you to pursue something (assuming it won’t hurt you), you should chase that dream as far as it takes you. I will always be here waiting if you want to circle back and check in at home. The sky is the limit, or maybe not, if you don’t want it to be.

I taught you to always be kind to people, because sometimes you are the only person who will be, and you can make all the difference in another person’s life.

What I never meant to teach you and didn’t realize I was modeling for you by my actions is that you need to be perfect. That perfection should always be strived for, and it doesn’t matter that you can’t reach it; you should always try. I never meant to lay that on you. I am sorry. It’s a trap and a lie, and one I am still working on shedding myself. I hate that I passed that to you. I am sorry.

Moms make mistakes. Lord, how I wish I could be perfect for you (there I go again), but I can’t. Of all the things I would want to reach perfection for, being a mom would always be at the top of the list. It is the most important thing I have ever done, and it will always be the center of my heart and purpose. I still catch myself making the stupidest mistakes with you, but I am trying to be more conscious of them, at least. I am sorry.

What I never meant to teach you was that other people’s happiness is more important than your own. I never said those words to you, and I never would have in a million years, because I never wanted that for you. It was so heavy. I struggled under that weight my entire life. I wanted better for you, so much better. There have to be limits. I wanted you to have limits. I told you to have limits. I even gave you scenarios, and we practiced because I was desperate for you to respect yourself. But you were watching me, weren’t you? You saw that I never set any boundaries of my own. You learned to model my example instead of following my words. I am sorry.

What I never meant to teach you was that you have to be kind to people, even if it means betraying yourself. That is not true. You deserve kindness too, and you have to make yourself a priority. I know, I know, you never saw me put those words into action. You watched what I did. What I said took second place. I am sorry.

You are worthy of everything you want, baby girl. You are a wonderful human, and I am so, so proud to be your mom.

That is true on your best days when it seems like you could literally take flight and touch the sky of your own accord. When you have everything under control, and you feel like you’re on top of the world. When you feel like you’re killing it and that you absolutely, one hundred percent know what you want, and you are going to reach it.

And that is also true on the days that nothing is going right. When you feel like you can’t do anything to anyone’s satisfaction or that you don’t even want to try because you’re just so tired. When the pressure is mounting, and you feel like you’re going to crumble under it.

If you’re flying, I’ll be on solid ground, waiting and watching and so dang proud of you. Here if you want to circle back for check-in and a, “Look at me, Momma.” I will smile and I will brag on you, and I will tell the world that you’re my daughter, and you make me so happy.

And on the days when your feet are stuck on the ground, even on the days when they are so stuck, you don’t know how to move them forward, I will be right beside you. Waiting and watching and so dang proud of you. Here if you want to lay straight down for a check-in and an, “I need you now, Momma.” I will smile and I will brag on you, and I will tell the world that you’re my daughter, and you make me so happy.

You are enough.

You always were, and you always will be.

I love all sides of you. And you should too, baby girl.

Until you do, I will do my best to love all the sides of you so much that it spills over onto you, and you can’t help but absorb it and start to love yourself too.

You are my favorite grown-up.

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