What My Child's Tears Taught Me About My Personal Growth - Retirement and Tears

This is my third year of receiving counseling.

I am aiming to become a counselor.

My name is Rin Koshiba.

Today, I want to talk about my children.

(I am divorced and live apart from my children.)

The last time I saw them was when we went shopping last year, but

we keep in touch frequently.😊

Then, one day,

I received a message from my youngest child.

Can you come to my club tournament on Sunday? I'm not sure if I'll be able to play, though.

I had no plans, and work was not an issue.

I might be able to go, I thought, and

I immediately replied, "I can go."

In that moment, in my head, I was already

thinking, "Should I bring some snacks?"

"Will they be happy?"

I was thinking about things like that.

From my youngest child,

a follow-up message came saying,

"I want you to bring some snacks."

I couldn't help but laugh.

I choose to do what I can within reasonable limits.

As for the contents of the gift,

I first decided how much I could spend within a reasonable range

before I went shopping.

It takes over an hour by train and on foot to get to the venue.

It was a hot day,

and it was realistically impossible to carry cold drinks or jelly for 15 people.

Bread and rice balls were also a concern due to the summer heat.

So, I decided to

buy several types of family-pack snacks,

and pack them into individual bags for each person.

They are light and there is no worry about them spoiling.

This way, I can carry them without any trouble.

While packing them, I suddenly remembered.

When my older children were in kindergarten or elementary school,

for Halloween or other gatherings,

I used to pack snacks like this.

The children would hand them out happily.

The scene from back then came back to me, and my heart felt warm.

The day of the tournament. The first time I was invited to the 'mother's seat'.

My youngest child has been in the same club since junior high and high school, but

I had never been invited to watch a tournament before.

So this 'Can you come?'

had a special meaning for me.

While feeling lost and checking the map,

I somehow managed to arrive at the tournament venue.

My youngest child played in the match twice as a substitute.

It wasn't like there was any standout performance.

But the sight of them running with all their might,

the way they hung in there,

I was moved by all of it.

'You've grown so much,' I whispered to myself over and over.

They aren't physically gifted.

Even so, for six years,

especially the three years of high school, they kept up with really hard training.

That accumulation was evident in their physique, their movements, and their expression.

I suddenly looked down at their feet and saw the shoes we had chosen together when we went shopping.

I realized they had been using it with such care.

My chest tightened with warmth.

We lost the match, and with that, the club activities came to an end.

But the time this child has spent building up to this moment

is worth far more than winning or losing.

After the match. My youngest child, who broke down in tears

When I reached out to deliver some snacks,

my youngest child went out of their way to come see me.

And then

the moment they saw my face, they broke down in tears.

It wasn't just tears falling.

It was as if all the strength had left their body,

and their frustration, relief, and all the tension they had been holding onto

were all pouring out at once.

At first, I was bewildered,

and I even said,

"Why are you crying?"

but I immediately realized I was wrong.

This child

They are crying from the exhaustion of having given it their all,
the frustration of losing,
and also
the relief that I came.

The moment I thought that,

the words inside me changed naturally.

"You did your best."

"You were so cool."

"That was frustrating, wasn't it?"

"Good job."

As I said that,

I wiped their sweat and patted them on the shoulder.

"Yeah... yeah..."

Seeing them nod while breaking down in tears,

I almost started crying myself.

When I handed them the gift I brought,

they said "Thank you" honestly.

"Mom is going home now. See you later."

It was a short time,

but it was a time when our hearts felt very close.

And now, a new start as a student preparing for entrance exams.

My youngest child has retired from club activities,

From here on, we enter the university entrance exam period.

Since they entered high school,

I have seen them wanting to go to university,

aiming for a recommendation from a designated school,

and for that purpose, maintaining their attendance record while

balancing club activities and their studies.

That is why I think:

This child will be fine.

It is not anxiety, but a natural feeling I have.

This story is about my own emotional growth and change.

This event was not just about watching a tournament,

nor was it just about bringing refreshments.

This was,

a day that served as proof of how my heart has changed.

In the past, I used to

only look at what they couldn't do,

comparing, blaming, and feeling ashamed.

But now, I am...

a different person.

Seeing what they can do,

Acknowledging their efforts, and being able to be genuinely moved.

Being able to be there for my child's tears.

Being able to believe in my child's hard work.

And above all,

I have learned to cherish my own heart.

It wasn't just my child who retired.

The mother who compares

The mother who blames

The mother full of anxiety

The mother who was afraid of being abandoned

That past version of me I

quietly let go of today.

And so, I began a new way of relating.

It wasn't my child's tears that changed things.

My heart grew enough to be able to see those tears.