Growing up

Sometimes it’s nice to be an adult, but often it’s hard. As an adult, there’s no one to set the boundaries, tell you what the right choice is, or warn you of the consequences of the actions you’ve yet to take. And with bills to pay, clients to answer to, a household to run, and people who depend on you to take care of, the responsibilities seem endless.

Thinking about it, I remember a conversation that I had with a close friend of mine back when we were nineteen. At the time, I mentioned to her that although I felt quite competent and responsible, able to meet life’s challenges head on, I still didn’t quite feel like a woman. Instead, I felt as if I was womaning, in the midst of or almost reaching the end of a process for which I couldn’t yet see the finish line.

As we talked, I realized that I was torn between wanting to stay within the safe confines of childhood and the illusion of protection that it afforded me and the desire to reach out and climb onto the riskier path of adulthood in which more was at stake but the rewards unpredictable and immeasurable.

Watching my son as he plays innocently with his train tracks, gathering his stuffed animals around as if an audience for the great race that will soon take place, I realize something. As a parent, my job is to believe in childhood, prolonging its illusions and sanitized wrapping while gradually preparing my son for the demands that he will face as an adult.

When I think about how I can accomplish this goal that, at first glance, seems to operate at cross-purposes, it suddenly dawns on me that the answer is there. Although no small challenge, I need to create the conditions that will allow my son to revel in and explore the simple joys of childhood, embodied in the cheerfulness of dandelions not yet stained by the label of undesired weed, the ability to go nudies in public without anyone batting an eyelash, the common occurrence of becoming hard and fast friends with someone as a result of making a simple request, and the ability to enjoy the pure and unadulterated beauty in this world.

For it is clear to me that by allowing him to enjoy each moment without unduly imposing on him the burdens of adult concerns all the while helping him to climb to his next level of ability, as if providing him an invisible scaffold on which he can climb the stairwells of life, he will be able to successfully move through life’s various twists and turns without getting stuck for too long in any single passageway. And more than anything, for myself as a parent, my greatest challenge is to remember that parenting doesn’t have a time stamp on it: no matter the size of my son’s outer form and his appearance at having arrived at his final destination, at various points in his life he will need guidance, support, and unsolicited input to help redirect him towards the goals and destination that he ultimately sets out for himself.

Self-efficacy

After I split up with my husband and found myself to be a single mom solely responsible for a boy that had just turned one, I couldn’t help but reflect on where I had gone wrong. I constantly thought about how I could have made the mistake of marrying someone who couldn’t go the distance and take the final, irrevocable step into adulthood. While there were indications along the way that my husband was more of a dreamer than a finisher, it never occurred to me that he would be incapable of stepping into the role of father, caregiver, and provider.

Hiking around a desolate lake on Vancouver Island months later, as I ascended and descended the rugged terrain that was quietly in bloom with the promise of spring, I silently reflected on my new lover and his potential. And, in that moment, it occurred to me that while some people have many obvious talents, skills, and aptitudes, it is the rare person who has a strong sense of self-efficacy.

When I ran this thought by my cousin, she asked me what I meant by this. In trying to disentangle the jumble of my thoughts, I explained that, for me, it meant not only the ability to dream in Technicolor but the ability to believe that you can and, if you choose to engage, that you will effect the outcome you dream.

As I warmed up to my explanation, I asked her why it is that there are people like Jim Carey, who believe so strongly in the future that they want for themselves, that they are able to write a check to themselves for $20 million dollars, knowing, with certainty, that they will one day be able to cash it. Or, on a smaller scale, the infinite number of people who set a life vision or goal for themselves, and systematically go about accomplishing it, regardless of the setbacks that they encounter along the way.

I believe that what makes these people different is their ability to envision a future world that they, themselves, want to live in and place the full power of their intention behind their unique set of energies, creativity, and human potential to make it happen.

Although I myself came from a uniquely bizarre family constellation, often exposed to and forced to deal with uncomfortable and inappropriate situations from a young age onwards, the one thing that I never doubted was my ability to accomplish something that I resolutely set my mind to. My parents were always firmly in my corner, believing in me and my power to create whatever I could envision. As a parent, I believe that if I can pass this sense of control over one’s destiny on to my son, I will leave him an important and long-lasting legacy, enabling him to embrace the beauty of the present while tapping into his talents, develop himself, and create the Technicolor world in which he wants to live.