Let Go

I lived in my parents' house until I was 27. If I hadn't left the country, I would probably still be crashing there every night. Not that it's something I resent. I loved all the benefits that came with it. Free food, free everything. I never concerned myself with paying rent or the electric bill. It wasn't until I moved to New York that I learned how complicated adult life could really be.

Culturally, Filipino families are very close-knit. It's not uncommon even for married children to live in their parents' house. Although I believe economics is the primary drive for this all too familiar arrangement. Sharing the burden of household expenses with more than just your spouse is undeniably a big help. In my case, however, it was more of my mom's need to be close to her daughters than anything else. And besides, I'm single, and she insisted.

When I graduated from college, I was thrilled to be accepted into a company that was 2 hours away from home. I figured I could finally convince my mom to let me rent my own place near my work. But I was dead wrong. She enumerated a list of things that could go wrong if I lived on my own or God forbid share a space with strangers. I wasn't naive enough not to pick up on the separation anxiety that was staring me in the face. So I relented. If I had my way, she'd probably have ended up visiting me everyday or calling me more times than I brush my teeth. My mom is not the type of person you say no to and expect a "get out of jail free". But make no mistake about it, I love her to bits.

So for years, I knew nothing about the price of meat or even toothpaste. The only shopping I ever did was for my own clothes, shoes, accesories, and everything else that a girl wants. I couldn't be bothered about shopping for shampoo or milk. Yes, I was such a mama's girl. I'm not sure if I did it on purpose so that my mom would say something and I could respond with a not-too-polite, "I could move out." Or it was just laziness poking it's ugly head out. Whatever it was, I had more than my share of rude awakenings when I woke up to an empty New York apartment with nothing in my refrigerator.

Starting a life alone in a new country is both scary and exhilirating. My first year was the worst of my life to date but it was also the time when I felt most alive. Everyone told me I was crazy to take on New York on my own. Naysayers said my heart would harden in no time because that's what the big city does. But 5 years have proven that New York has done nothing for me but good. Plus, it helps that it's the city where anyone can be anything they want to be.

It's good to be around family, friends, and other familiar people. It gives one a sense of security. But I believe that unless you find yourself in unfamiliar territory, amidst strange people, without any friends or anyone to call for help when you're sick, you'll never really know the meaning of many things. Independence. Strength. Faith. To find yourself in a place where God is your only ally, that's when you really get to know Him.

My mom (even my dad for that matter) means well. It's only natural for a mother to desire to keep her young as close to the nest as possible. I knew it wasn't easy for her to send me off so I could pursue my dreams, be my own person, find my own way in the world. But she did it. Even though her heart was breaking, she did it.

To all the moms and dads out there, please don't stifle your children's need to find their own paths. Eagles were not meant to be kept in the nest, they're made to soar. You cannot teach them how to fly and then forbid them from flying out on their own. You know what it's like to soar the heavens and how amazing that could be. Would you withhold that experience from your own kids simply because you can't let go?