My Daughter Who Takes an Umbrella Every Day, Even When It's Sunny

Since my daughter started her third year of elementary school, she has made it a rule to always take an umbrella to school every morning.
The sky is perfectly clear without a single cloud. Even looking at the weather forecast, there is no sign of rain. Yet, my daughter stands at the entrance with an umbrella in her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s sunny today, you know?”
Even when I say that to her, she just gives a small nod and refuses to let go of the umbrella.

That habit has continued even now, as she is in the third term of her third year of elementary school.

There is something I still deeply regret to this day.
It is the fact that I repeatedly denied my daughter's “obsession” with that.

My daughter was naturally a worrier and always had a lot of luggage when going to school.
Textbooks beyond what was on her schedule, handkerchiefs and tissues just in case, and spare stationery.
Her backpack was already bursting at the seams with just that, yet she would still take an umbrella.

Every time I saw her like that, I couldn't help but feel irritated.

“It’s not even raining!!”
“That’s just heavy for no reason!!”

I have snatched the umbrella from her hands many times while saying things like that.

Thinking back on it now, I don't think I ever really looked at my daughter's expression at those times.
The way she stood there silently, looking anxious but unable to talk back.

It wasn't just the umbrella.
My daughter had another strong obsession.

It was that she couldn't feel at ease unless she was wearing an outer layer.

Even on hot midsummer days, my daughter would try to go to school wearing a long-sleeved hoodie.
Moreover, she wore the same hoodie every day.
Even though she changed her clothes underneath, because she wore the same thing over them, it looked as if she were wearing the same clothes every day.

That was something I just couldn't help but be bothered by.

“It’s hot!!”
“You’ll get heatstroke!!”
“That clothes is dirty, so stop wearing it already!!!”

I thought I was being concerned.
But looking back now, I'm not confident that it was truly “for my daughter’s sake.”

How it looked to others.
The desire to be seen as a proper mother.
My own selfish need for peace of mind, wanting her to be “normal.”

Perhaps I was just forcing those things onto my daughter.

That period was the most difficult time for me in raising my child.
I clashed with my daughter almost every day, fell into self-loathing, and would feel depressed alone at night.

“Is my way of raising her wrong?”
“Will she be okay like this?”

While carrying that anxiety without any answers, I consulted with many different people.
Family, friends, teachers, and specialists.
I think I just couldn't help but talk to someone about it.

Now, I understand a little bit.
Back then, I was afraid to face my daughter.
I didn't have the capacity to accept my daughter's 'anxiety'.

Now, even if my daughter takes an umbrella on a sunny day or wears a jacket on a hot day, I don't say anything.
I no longer say things like, 'Don't you need an umbrella?' or 'Aren't you hot?'

If my daughter is standing at the entrance with an umbrella,
'Have a good day.'
That is all.

If she is about to go to school wearing a jacket,
I just check what's in her water bottle,
'Take care.'
That is all I say.

Even though it's just that, my daughter's expression has become much calmer than before.
I feel that her morning preparations and her steps as she heads to school have become a little lighter.

That was when I finally realized.

That for my daughter, the umbrella and the jacket were not 'meaningless things'.
I think they were like 'charms' to give her peace of mind.

'What if it rains?'
'What if I get cold?'
'I'm anxious if something happens.'

Perhaps carrying an umbrella or wearing a jacket was her own desperate way of controlling that anxiety.

I was denying that for the sake of adult convenience, saying it was 'heavy,' 'hot,' or 'looked strange.'
But in reality, I think I was denying the very anxiety my daughter was feeling.

I realized this not because my daughter changed.
It is because I learned to 'wait' just a little bit.

There is always a reason for a child's behavior.
Even if I can't understand it right away, it might be 'something necessary for that child'.

Since I've been able to think that way, my own heart has become a little more at ease.
I don't have to force her to stop.
I don't have to force her to correct it.
I just need to watch over her by her side.

I think that when my daughter herself feels 'I'm okay now,' she will naturally let go of the umbrella and the jacket.
I don't know if that will be tomorrow, next year, or further in the future.

But for now,
that my daughter can go to school with peace of mind,
I have come to think that is enough.

Even so, a parent's feelings waver.

Even now that I have decided not to say anything, there are moments deep in my heart where I feel uneasy.
When I see her back as she carries an umbrella on a sunny day.
When I see her off walking in the middle of summer wearing a jacket.

'Is it really okay to leave it like this?'
'Won't people around her think it's strange?'
'Wouldn't it be better to make things easier for her?'

Such thoughts suddenly surface and then disappear.

I know it in my head.
That it is her own form of peace of mind,
and that she needs it right now.

Even so, a parent's heart cannot keep up with logic alone.

There are days when I worry about what others think.
There are days when I feel anxious, wondering if people think I'm a parent who doesn't pay enough attention.
Honestly, there are also days when I compare her to other children and end up feeling down on my own.

The desire to understand her,
and the wish for her to be 'normal'.

I am still wavering between those two feelings.

But lately, I've started to think this way.
It's not bad to waver.
Perhaps what's important is trying to stay by my child's side even while I waver.

It's okay if I can't accept everything perfectly.
It's okay to feel a bit frustrated for a moment.
As long as I can choose to 'not deny' her after that, that is enough.

Parents are human, too.
We get lost, we get scared, and we lose sight of what the right answer is.

Even so, today, as I watch my daughter walk away,
'I will not break your sense of security,'
I tell myself that in my heart.

I believe this wavering is surely a part of raising a child.