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In 2014 all three of my children will be in their 40s.  It is hard for me to believe.

Just so you know I am not the “Queen” of understanding adult children.

I really do not know how to be a mother of adult children because I was a teenager when my mom died.  My father’s second wife, who came into my life, just a year after my mother died, never “filled the bill.”

I don’t think anyone can step into the shoes of a mother.

I watch my friends who are mothers of adult children to see what they do.  Sometimes I get very confused about what I should and should not do; feel and not feel.

My closest friend told me recently, “You raised them well, Elizabeth.  They all support themselves.”  She told me that we do not “own” our children and are not responsible for their actions or feelings. She often talked to me about “not holding adult children in bondage of any type.  She also told me that when we give another something we would love to receive and they don’t appreciate it, it hurts!

She is the wisest woman I know.

She has three children, too.  They are older than mine.  In fact, her two oldest are in their 60s. I am 66.

What I have come to believe about the term bondage in the context my friend was talking about includes: financial dependency or emotional dependency of some sort.

I am not talking here about a genuine need for money and a request for help.  I am talking about giving kids money or things with an expectation that something (love, time, etc.) will be given back.

Some of my friends deal with the gut-wrenching situation of adult children living on the streets because of drug and alcohol addiction.  Some of my friends’ children are not living on the street; but, constantly asking for money or cars or whatever because of their addictions.  When your kid is almost dead because of these dependencies, it’s hard to do nothing or know what to do.  Many of my friends have paid vast sums to rehab centers.  They talk about detachment and enablement.

Some of my friends’ children have college educations and some sort of job.  My friends still pay for clothes, airline tickets, etc.  One of my friends, age 50 plus, still goes shopping with her mother and mom pays for everything.  I’m not sure if I had those situations in my life I would have had the fortitude to do what I had to do at a few points in my life.

Emotional bondage I think takes many forms.  One of my cousins washed her adult children’s’ clothes until they married.  One friend “requires” her children to call her once a day.  Ma-ma’s cooking, at any age, was bondage in my Italian-side of the family.  Asking parent(s) “what they think,” on every issue seems to be bondage.  Raising kids “just so” can be bondage, too.  Being an integral part of your adult children’s lives can be bondage too.  I have painfully found as a single woman that my kids (grandkids) are not responsible for my social life.

A crisis is great drama and difficult. It’s easy to first think of calling our children.  It’s hard to remember that no one is responsible for us or under any obligation to help us, even our children.

Just because I raised them, does not mean I own them.  They had a right to their own decisions, and the consequences.  They have a right not to tell me what is going on in their lives or even being part of their lives.   It is none of my business after all.  My friend often tells me my job ended a long time ago.

A really valuable phrase she told me is that “their opinion of you, Elizabeth, is none of your business, either.”  This little tidbit is so helpful to remember.  It often eases the pain and occasionally gives me a good chuckle.

I have given my adult kids many things that I desperately wanted from my parents. I don’t think they often appreciate many of these gift overtures. They are things – mainly my time – which I never received from my mother or father.  It hurts.  But, as my friend has told me many times, “giving with strings attached,” is bondage.

She also tells me to not hold anyone in bondage is the true meaning of love and that my job is to take responsibility for me with the charge of living a life well lived.