Letting Go With Love:

Embracing a New Chapter, For Both of Us

Multigenerational living can be a beautiful thing — offering emotional closeness, shared resources, and a sense of home that’s familiar and supportive. And yet, for some families, especially when children transition into adulthood, it can also become a space where growth slows down — not out of failure or blame, but simply because familiar dynamics can become limiting for both parent and child.

As mothers, many of us naturally continue to nurture and support, often without realizing when it’s time to loosen our grip. Especially when our adult children are still finding their way — whether it’s through identity exploration, motivation struggles, or emotional healing — we can end up unintentionally holding space in a way that keeps them tethered instead of free. It’s not about doing something “wrong,” it’s about recognizing when the next evolution is calling us forward — for them and for ourselves.

In my case, this evolution is personal and spiritual.

My older two children, now 23 and 25, are already thriving — working, living dynamic lives, following their own paths. My youngest, now 18, is on a different timeline. High school was a challenge, and we’ve been navigating emotional layers together — grief after the loss of my husband in 2022, the challenges of teenage years, and now, a deep exploration of identity as my child steps into life as a transgender girl. While I may not fully understand all the parts of her journey, I honor it. I trust her process, just as I am learning to trust my own.

For years, I’ve found myself falling into the same patterns: checking if she’s awake in the afternoon, reminding her to eat, repeating requests for help around the house. At times, I’ve felt frustrated or helpless, trying to “motivate” her into action — all while feeling the deep pull of my own soul to go live, explore, and begin anew.

And so, I’ve made a choice.

Beginning July 1, 2025, I will begin splitting my time between Sacramento and Payson, Utah — with several weeks each month spent exploring the land, connecting with nature, and living part-time in my beloved Eurovan. National parks, hot springs, hikes, and open skies are calling me. I want to live with intention, joy, and gratitude — for myself, and in honor of my late husband who never got to take these adventures.

This isn’t about leaving my child behind. It’s about trusting that spaciousness can be the catalyst for growth. When I’m not home to do the daily reminding and caretaking, my daughter will naturally need to step into more responsibility. She’ll manage groceries with the allowance I offer. She’ll figure out the dishes, the trash, the rhythms of daily life. And I’ll be loving her from afar — not nagging, not pushing, just holding space from a distance, with faith that she will find her way.

We may not be on the same page right now. Road trips and nature exploration don’t appeal to her yet — and that’s okay. I believe we will find alignment again in time, as she matures and deepens her own self-discovery. I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply walking my own path, with an open heart, and hoping that in some way, I’m modeling what it looks like to live from intuition, joy, and trust.

If you’re reading this and find yourself at a similar crossroads — if you feel the tug between continuing to care and beginning to let go — know that you are not alone. Many of us were never taught how to mother from a distance, how to let our adult children rise without our constant presence.

But sometimes, the most powerful form of mothering is surrender.

We don't need to over-function, wait for grandchildren, or hold everything together. If your inner voice is calling you toward freedom, solitude, creativity, travel, or rest — you are allowed to listen.

This is especially for mothers whose children may not be hitting traditional milestones, whose journeys are unique, non-linear, and often misunderstood. You can still love deeply without hovering. You can still support without enabling. And you can still hold space while honoring your own sacred timeline.

To return to the message that began this reflection:

"Removing yourself from the dynamic can be the most loving and spiritually aligned thing you do. Not to punish your child, but to give them the space to rise. Sometimes, the most powerful form of mothering is letting go — trusting that your absence becomes the fertile ground for their accountability and growth."

With deep love and full faith in all of our becoming,