Watching Your Kid Drive Away for the First Time
Today was the first time my son ever got into his own car and drove off to school. It was weird and feelingsy.
I went to bed last night knowing that this morning would be the first time my 16-year-old would leave the house in his own vehicle.
I woke up somewhere between 10 and 1,000 times feeling some measure of stress about it. This, combined with discussing university visits next month with his mother, seemed to only intensify the mixed emotions.
I warned him that I wouldn’t be letting him leave the house in his car unless he was at least 15 minutes faster getting ready for school in the morning than when I drive him. (Because I’m not okay with him having to drive hurriedly to school during morning rush hour at this stage in his driving career.)
Predictably, because he loves his car and the autonomy that comes with being able to drive alone as a newly licensed driver, he was ready 30 minutes sooner than normal.
I watched him back out of the driveway and take off. I’m not sure I’d ever experienced that emotional combo before.
There’s a ton of pride, of course. There’s also more worry than you’d prefer to have when you’re forced to let go and let fate, God, the universe have their way with the thing you love most in the world. There’s something liberating about not having to be my teenage son’s errand boy, but it’s so new that it’s going to take a while to settle into this strange new life.
But there’s something lost too, and I haven’t figured out how to name it. Something to grieve the tiniest bit.
Surely, it’s akin to what every parent feels when a child moves out of the house, or gets married, or takes a job somewhere far away.
It’s a Things will never be the same moment.
In a super-unexpected way, it has the tiniest bit in common with the time I watched my son’s mother put him in the car when he was four years old and drive him away. That happened 12 years ago on the last day we all lived together.
Things will never be the same.
That was horrendous, and I had real concerns about whether I’d even wake up the next day or ever want to again.
This isn’t like that. I’m so proud of and excited for him. But I’m also a little surprised by the emotional cocktail I can’t identify with any precision.
We are roughly 18 months (probably fewer now) away from him moving out for college. I suppose this is life’s way of prepping your insides for whatever that’s like.
It’s not exactly a hard day. Just a big one. And different. Different always feels weird.
Mindfulness Around a Change of Circumstance in Our Relationships
I shared some of this in my Friday group meeting today, where we have a mix of people with children as young as 3, as well as some with kids in their 30s.
One group member has watched four of her children drive off for the first time over the years, and her fifth child—her youngest—is going through driver’s ed right now. Another guy who has been married 41 years has kids that have been out of the house for nearly as long as my son’s been alive.
David says you should join our twice-weekly support group, and he’s not wrong.
“I would encourage anyone who is considering joining Matt’s group to JUST DO IT. It’s reasonable to be apprehensive about the vulnerability you think it might involve. I get that. But if you engage with an open mind and open heart, your real experience will be one of support, encouragement, and constructive accountability. Consider this time commitment an investment in your relationship and in yourself. You won’t regret it!” - David S.
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To be fair, group is only twice-weekly for men. We have a men’s-only meeting on Mondays, and a mixed meeting (men and women) on Fridays. The people are great. Come hang out and work on some of your stuff. Learn more about group and 1-on-1 relationship coaching here.
Thinking through this weird day I’m having, I just thought a relevant Public Service Announcement might be: Please exercise mindfulness and consideration for your spouse/relationship partner if they, or you together, are experiencing a change of circumstance in your life.
Big or small, try not to let them carry it alone.
It could be having a baby, or watching one of them metamorphosize into a young adult.
It could be someone grieving the loss of a friend or family member.
It could be a scary health diagnosis.
I could be sending a child to school for the first time.
It could be a big move to a new city or state or country.
It could be a job change.
It could be pretty much anything that changes the world for the other person.
And if you’re in a relationship with, or care about, someone who is dealing with significant change of circumstance (probably something more emotionally difficult and traumatic than a teenager driving his or her own car alone for the first time!), I hope you’ll communicate your support for them through your words and actions.
Things will never be the same.
But we can say: I’m still here. And as much as I have a say in the outcome, I always will be.
Matthew Fray is the author of “This is How Your Marriage Ends: A Hopeful Approach to Saving Relationships”, a relationship coach, and formerly the blogger at Must Be This Tall To Ride.
P.S. - I know these things can present really small to some of you in your busy lives and marriages/partnerships. But that’s exactly why developing mindfulness and communication habits around these domestic scenarios is so critical to maintaining peaceful, loving relationships. If you have trust erosion, and/or pain points and frustrations around things like this at home, consider working with me as your relationship coach to develop these skills and habits. This stuff matters. Book your next appointment here. - MF
"Things will never be the same."
Yeah. And then there may be grandchildren. I call it "anitya"
Yep, I stood behind the curtain watching her reverse out of our driveway then turned to my then-husband and we both just looked at each other. Wow - a tiny big moment. The school is a 5-minute drive away. The rule in return for being allowed to take my car was that she texted when she arrived, when she left for her daytime appointment, and when she got back to school. Not forever, just until I got used to this new phase - she gracefully agreed to my anxiety-fueled rule and then promptly forgot when she arrived at school. I had to drop my husband at work so I could have his car - he said, ‘do you want to drive past the school?’ Yes, yes I did. And there was my car, parked quietly where it should be. We breathed and carried on.