Knowing what direction to go in makes all the difference. Perhaps it becomes clearer with the wandering, but I wish I had known when I started out. I tried so hard to grow up when, all along, I should have been growing down. I wish I had known to tell my children that.

As a child, I looked to the adults around me to get an idea of what it meant to be grown-up. Now that I am an adult myself, I smile to think the models of maturity I chose to emulate didn’t know then any more than I know now. We inherit a tribal image of what it looks like to be “mature” — to be settled successfully in a career, to be responsible choice-makers and committed partners, to have the wisdom to know what our spouse and children need and the grace to give it to them.

We take on this image as we would a borrowed garment, from the outside in: We marry and assume we’ll know how to make it work, we have children and assume we’ll know how to be loving and effective parents. We try to grow up — take on roles expected of us — rather than allow ourselves to naturally, authentically grow down into the duties and circumstances our particular life presents us, on our individual timetable.

The notion of growing down into our life is a gift to me from James Hillman, a Jungian analyst, author of The Soul’s Code. We receive a particular body, family tree and life circumstance that tie us to the earth and create a container in which we experience living. The trick is to move ever more deeply into our own unique mix until we discover who we are, what we want. It’s not about copying society’s standards or comparing success. It’s not about making our family proud. It’s about discovering our own unique calling and meaning.

The problems I see with the notion of growing up:  If I don’t live up to others’ expectations, I feel guilty, inadequate, when it may be that I’m just not emotionally ready to take on something. I’m  where I am, where I need to be and can only be on my journey. If I’m heckled about the need to grow up, I feel judged, criticized for who I am, compared to others who may be in different circumstances, need to be on a different journey, to learn different things than I do.

If I’m encouraged to grow down, I feel supported in my effort to become who I am, more able to affirm myself and my personal pace, not caught in comparing myself to others. I’m not stifled by the fear of disappointing anyone. There’s no end to it as there is in “He’s all grown up.” I get the message, “Easy does it,” and “Go at your own speed” rather than “Measure up!” and “Stand up like a man!”

When young people don’t think they’re “making it” in their own or in others’ eyes — according to traditional mores of growing up — they often fall into “faking it.” They lose their grounding, their footing on the earth, as they opt for ways to escape the shame of not measuring up, not meeting some external standard out there for which they were probably not emotionally equipped.

They become so focused on looking successful, adequate, grown-up, they lose touch with being who they are. They’re robbed of learning the lessons they need to learn. They become disconnected from soul, disoriented, unable to develop the gifts and talents they were intended to contribute to the world – all out of love and loyalty to their family tribe.

As the shame or the escapism takes over, they isolate, aren’t comfortable being around anyone who might know the failure and confusion they feel. The garment/image of what maturity “should” look like, placed on them by the tribe, doesn’t fit, so they experiment with other things, like drugs or self-destructive living. They “act out” rather than pull in and take stock of what’s happening to them. They move further out, on the edges, where no one can touch them.

Life has a way of being there for our lost children even when we cannot. Some calamity will arise, a legal tangle perhaps, some random event that uncovers the truth of their running. Everything falls apart. Sitting with the broken pieces of their life, they are forced down into the circumstance they were trying to avoid. Life offers them, and us, another chance, another look.

We all stand, together, where they are, not where we thought they were, needed them to be, but where they are. Down, into the pit with them, into the mess we created together. That’s where their spiritual journey begins. That’s where their soul emerges like a phantom from the depths and screams in pain, “I’m starving. Pay attention to me.”

What rises from of the ashes, what works its way up from the black muck of crisis is something real and human, something we can all get our arms around. It sometimes takes a fall to see better where we stand on the ground. Our child gets to know themself better and we begin to really see them as separate individuals.

What would I tell my children if I had it to do again? Find something you love about yourself, find something you’re passionate about doing, love what you have to offer the world. Stand in your own place. Take your time. Don’t compare; it robs important energy.What would I tell myself? Throw away narrow expectations and family “shoulds”,  delight in your child’s fantasies and dreams, encourage your child’s uniqueness, don’t compare, and listen, listen, listen. 

Maybe it’s all semantics, just words, to squabble over “growing up” or “growing down.” But words carry energy and direction and meaning. And words are all we have to tell our children we love them just where they are on the journey right now, that there is always time, and that we will always be in their corner, cheering them on.