Letting Go on the Emotional Roller Coaster of Motherhood

This half term I went to visit my eldest at university. A whole weekend in his new world.

He’d settled well last term and asked us to come up. I didn’t hesitate. I needed to see it with my own eyes. To meet the friends he talks about. To understand who his people are now. To check that when he says he’s happy, he really means it.

He showed us around his university town, pointing out late-night haunts and questionable kebab shops. We watched the rugby with his friends. I’d love to think they were thrilled to meet us; I suspect the promise of free drinks helped!

As Scotland romped home victorious (a very happy husband beside me), I watched my son with this new tribe of his.

They already have that easy closeness you only get when you’re living on top of each other, figuring life out together.

And I drove home with a heart completely full… and unexpectedly sad.

The pride is enormous. He is thriving. Stepping forward without looking back for reassurance every five minutes. He invited us into his world not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

That meant more than he will ever know.

But alongside the pride sat something else.

University isn’t just a beginning. It’s an ending too.

The chapter where our home was his whole world has now closed. The little boy who once reached instinctively for my hand now reaches for his future.

The Bit We Don’t Talk About

Motherhood, I’m realising, is one long practice of letting go.

Not dramatic. Gradual.

A bedroom that stays tidy because no one’s in it.
A phone call instead of a shout from upstairs.
A life stretching further beyond your reach.

But letting go doesn’t suddenly start at university.

It starts years earlier.

It starts in the moments where we grip tight because we are frightened.

Frightened of their diagnosis.
Frightened of their future.
Frightened of their big emotions.
Frightened we’re getting it wrong.
Frightened the outcome will reflect on us.

I have ridden one hell of an emotional rollercoaster beside my son. There were times I gripped so tightly my knuckles were white, trying to control the drops, trying to steady the turns, as if holding on tighter could change the ride.
Not because I’m a control freak because I was scared.
And fear energy makes us control.

This is something we talk about all the time in The Leadership Method, the subconscious urge to manage, fix, correct and orchestrate every outcome. Not because we enjoy being in control. In fact, many of us don’t even trust ourselves to make good choices when we’re in the thick of a dysregulated home. We grip tighter because, somewhere deep down, we’re terrified of what might happen if we don’t.

And our children feel that energy.

The Work Is Not About Letting Them Go

It’s about letting go of control driven by fear.

In The Leadership Method, we don’t start with behaviour.
We start with you.

Where am I bringing fear energy?
Where am I falling into my own story?
Where am I trying to move my child like a chess piece because I’m frightened of the outcome?

One of our recent graduates said:

“I can’t control him… so I’m not responsible for his feelings… and I’m not scared of them anymore.”

That’s letting go.

Another mum shared:

“I used to start the day in fear-energy and make everything worse. Now I can choose a calm response.”

The mornings didn’t magically become perfect.

But she stopped gripping.

And when we stop gripping everything changes.

Hands in the Air

What I’ve learned, and what I try to practise daily, is this:
I am a mother. I’m riding the rollercoaster regardless. But I can choose how I ride it.
I now choose hands in the air. Wind in my hair.
Not because it’s easy.
Not because I don’t feel fear.
But because I notice it and I don’t let it drive.

Where am I projecting?
Where am I catastrophising?
Where am I telling myself I must control this for it to be okay?

When I trust, he grows.

And this weekend, watching him with his friends, I realised something.

The letting go I practised when he was 13…
And 15…

Is what I think has allowed him to stand so confidently at 18.

I came home full. Chuffed beyond words.

And reminded that the work we do, in the messy years,  is practice.

Motherhood is loving and trusting deeply enough to let go.

The Leadership Method is now full for Feb/ Mar but we have opened enrolment for April. Please see our services page for more details.