This is harder than I thought it could ever be.

This is harder than I thought it could ever be.

People are who they are, and try as you might, you can’t get into their heads and make them act the way you want them to act.

When “people” is your child, desire becomes urgency.

You oscillate between “how did I get this so wrong” and “how did this person come from me.”

I see way more than she possibly can…I’ve been here longer. I’ve been here before.

I want to prevent her from wasting time, from making missteps.

I want her to be happy.

I also see what she doesn’t seem to see…in herself.

I see her tying herself into knots, needlessly.

I see her spinning around and around and around in her head, beating herself, doubting herself.

What role did I play in getting her to this stage.

I want to jump in and fix it, unravel the knots, turn her around and say: “Go this way. This is the best way.”

I wish there was a manual that outlined steps and outcomes. I’d follow the prescription to a tee just to avoid this angst, this turmoil, this pain, this anger, this sadness.

How do you know when to be tough and when to be nurturing? Too tough can result in snapping. In breaking.

Too much coddling and the seedling will never withstand the conditions in the open field.

I simply don’t know.

Have I caused irreparable damage?

Have I inspired or depressed?

Have I destroyed rather than created?

This is harder than I thought it could ever be.

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