I Love You. You Are Enough. It’s Okay.

I love you. You are enough. It’s okay.

Words I didn’t hear enough as a child. And still don’t, as an adult.

But what my parents didn’t give me, I’m learning how to give myself.

This isn’t to say that I was deprived of love as a child. I need to be clear that this isn’t about how my childhood was devoid of caring parents who loved me. I know how deep my parents’ love for me goes (also probably deeper than I realize).

I know they would support me at my lowest. There’s no question about that, as evidenced by how they’re helping me through this difficult time I’m going through right now. When I lost my job and now I’m about to give up my apartment because it’s no longer sustainable, they’re here, giving me a home to come back to and they don’t charge me rent. And they feed me.

This isn’t about questioning their love. They are the best parents that they know how to be and could have been for me.

But they’re not always the best at giving me the emotional support that I need, because I don’t think they know how to communicate this support in any other way besides expressing concern and worry. I think a lot of parents have concern and worry for their children as a default setting, and that’s not a terrible thing. Just how things are.

I know they want the best for me, and they communicate that by telling me they worry. By disagreeing with some of my choices and getting upset when I push back. As any good parents would want for their children, they want me to thrive and they have ideas on how I can and should do that.

But when my choices don’t match those ideas, they get upset. Not because they want to control me, but because they, like me, fear the unknown. And they don’t know (and I don’t either) if the path I choose will work for me, as opposed to what they want for me, which they think will work.

My parents are humans with their own experiences that shaped them way before I even existed. When I was born, they were already formed by whatever life experiences they had up until that point, and that includes the way they were raised by their parents (which no doubt shaped them the same way their parenting shaped me). That also includes the way they communicate, which shapes the way they express their love and support.

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But it’s not always helpful to hear “I worry” from anyone, especially my mom. When she says, “I’m worried,” I hear, “I’m scared that you’re not going to make it and things won’t get better for you. You’re not making enough progress, you need to do more.” Which is exactly my own fear about myself and my circumstances.

Because she’s my mother, of course I care what she says and her words carry weight. Her worry fuels my own, which doesn’t make things better. They add weight to my own worries and fears.

I tell her this, and she comes around sometimes, but her default mode is worry and anxiety (like mother, like daughter). And so I let her be as she is and remind myself that’s just how she is and try not to let her worry weigh so much on me. It’s not easy because I would rather hear her reflecting back to me the progress I have made, although small and slow, and cheering me on.

She tries, but it’s just not her default and I need to remind her every time and stick up for my own progress.

As children, we want to please our parents, and there’s a part of us that remains that child even as we become adults.

Because I’m living with my parents again, it’s a daily challenge for me to remember that I am not that child anymore, and I have agency over myself and what I think is good enough for me. I don’t need to move at anyone else’s speed but mine, even if it causes my mother to worry.

I know that things will work out because I have always found a way through. I see it in how I haven’t given up reaching towards progress and continuing to grow. As long as I have that, how fast or slow I go doesn’t matter.

I guess the words are just as much for me as for my parents, especially my mom, from whom I learned how to worry in the first place.

I love you. You are enough. It’s okay.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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