A mother shares her emotional journey as her daughter becomes independent

This past year has been a whirlwind. She’s 22 now, and while I want her to thrive, I can’t shake the anxiety that comes with her newfound freedom. I mean, she’s navigating the New York City subway like a pro, which is impressive, but it also makes me anxious.
When she doesn’t answer my texts, my mind races to the worst-case scenarios. I find myself sending her safety tips on Instagram, cringing when she travels at odd hours. Just the other day, she told me about her trip to Iceland, and I had to bite my tongue when she mentioned climbing glaciers.
She’s done some wild things, like skydiving for her 21st birthday. I called my therapist, hoping for a prescription, but we settled on me having a drink until I knew she was safe. I know she’s smart and capable, especially with her boyfriend around to protect her.
But letting go is tough. I want to share my wisdom, but I know I have to let her make her own mistakes. I try to send her suggestions through texts, hoping she’ll appreciate them. It feels good when she responds, but being left on read stings.
My husband takes a more laid-back approach, believing she’ll learn from her mistakes. But will she? It’s bittersweet when she figures things out on her own. I sometimes feel like I’m being pushed to the back of the shelf, but I know this is part of parenting.
This new phase is emotional and challenging, much like her early years. I’m learning to give her space while finding my own balance. It’s a journey, and I’m taking it one step at a time.