Dear Claire,
I could say to myself, "I should have had this ready to give to you a week ago, on your graduation day.”
But I don't want to do that to myself.
The truth is, this wasn't ready a week ago because I wasn't ready to write it. I hadn't found the space or the words yet. And that's okay. It's what is. I'm not going to put a layer of “shoulds” over this writing because then I'd never want to write it, or it would never want to be written. My creativity, I've learned, does not thrive under the weight of shame.
I could tell myself that what I've written here is not the sort of thing I should have written – it's not nostalgic enough, it's not reflective enough, it doesn’t say what it should say. It doesn’t say what a mother should say.
But I don't want to do that to myself.
The truth is, what I’ve written here is what was on my heart to share with you. What I wrote is what I wrote because I am who I am. And that’s okay. It’s what is. I'm not going to put a layer of “not enough” over this writing because I know that I can't grow and thrive under the weight of shame. Well, I can – I have – but I made a promise to myself that I won’t put that on myself anymore. It benefits no one. Not me, not you, not anyone who might read these words.
When I sat down to write, finally, I thought I would write a list of all the things I love about you.
Things like:
I love how much you love the things you love: Taylor Swift, Star Wars, LOTR, mythology, Greek plays l've never heard of, dance, writing, traditions, sitting outside, folklore, cosplay.
I love how the characters in the stories you write have shaped you as you're shaping them.
I love how committed you are to the paths you've chosen.
I love your sense of humor.
I love how well you know yourself. And how much more you will know about yourself as your life unfolds.
But I realized that a list like that would never feel like fully “it” to me. It would always feel incomplete because what I love about you is actually infinite and mostly outside the limits of language.
And I wanted to give you something more than a partial list.
So this is what I wrote:
When you were born, I was anxious and protective. I didn't know what I was doing, but day to day I did whatever felt like the right thing to do to keep you safe and happy. I had a sense that there was a right way to do things, but I was never sure if I was doing it right. I did what felt right, but I was also surrounded on all sides by “shoulds”.
“Shoulds” shook me. Sometimes they were subtle. Sometimes they were significant. But it took me a long time to recognize that “shoulds” are red flags. “Shoulds” are cause to pause. To ask myself: why do I feel like I should do this? What’s under it, behind it, driving it? Do I want to do it this way? Why? Why not?
I was about to write: I should have started questioning “shoulds” sooner.
That made me laugh out loud.
This is exactly what I'm writing about.
Why do I think I should have started questioning “shoulds” sooner? Because then I could have showed you sooner. I could have shared what I knew. I could have done better. I could have been better.
But I’m not going “should” myself, even in this writing.
I’m going to be tender with myself. I’m going to remind myself that it’s understandable that I didn’t know the importance of questioning “shoulds”. I was growing and learning, too. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and that’s okay. It’s what was. But I see it now, and I can share it if I want. So I ask myself: “Do I want to share this now?” And my answer is: “Yes. I do. I really do.”
I want to share this with you now. Something I didn't realize when I was your age. Something I hadn't learned when you were born. Something I couldn’t see until very recently. Something I’m still exploring and learning now.
It’s this:
There is no one way you should be.
There is no right way to do life.
There is no right way to do anything in your life.
There is simply you, and the present moment.
You, and what's right there.
And what you do in any present moment depends on your capacity and circumstances.
Your capacity changes – it can expand and contract and that's okay.
Your circumstances change – things come and go and that's okay.
When you notice your capacity and notice your circumstances, you can choose your path based on what is true for you.
You can let “shoulds” run your life. There's nothing wrong with that. It’s a path you can take.
But I think there is more freedom (and fun) when we can see every moment as a new opportunity to notice and choose. On this path, I think it’s possible to build the life you truly want.
You are just right, as you are.
And the possibilities for your life are infinite.
*
That is what I truly wanted to say to you.
It came out in a way that feels good to me and feels true to who I am.
If I had let “shoulds” guide me rather than my internal compass, I'm sure I still would have written something that would have been fine to share. Something that would have meant something to you, even.
But I want to live my life as much as possible authentic to who I am and what feels true to me. So for me, that means noticing as many “shoulds” as possible and choosing for myself what feels good to me.
In this writing, that meant not forcing myself when I wasn't ready. That meant not writing something that didn't feel like “it" to me.
So this is it.
This is my graduation note to you.
Maybe it doesn't look how it should or say what it should, but I believe it carries my love, and I hope you feel it.
I'm so proud of you. Your accomplishments are great but that's not what I mean. I'm proud of You: Who you are, just as you are. Your essence. Your light.
And I hope you let it shine, as much as possible.
