Hey friends, and welcome back to Unmasking the Heart for Change. I'm your host, Tammy Winstead, and today, well, I'm sitting in a season that many of us quietly prepare for, but few of us talk about out loud. It's the moment your baby, yes, the one who made you a parent, suddenly packing up boxes, rolling up those posters off the walls and heading off to college. They're grown now on the brink of takeoff. And while you beam with pride, a quiet question tugs at your heart. What now? Friend, I've stood in that exact moment watching them load up boxes into dorm rooms, target receipts still crumpled in my hand, smiling on the outside, but silently asking, who am I now? Well, friends, today's episode is for every mama, daddy, stepparent, guardian, and grandparent who's ever stood in that in-between space. Where the nest is quieter and your role is beginning to shift, this season may hit you differently, but just as deeply you've pour your heart into raising them and preparing them for this moment and how you feel right now. Well, friend, that matters too. Your love is just so steady. And today we're gonna talk about all the things that go into releasing them and getting to know yourself once again. So pull up a chair. Sit beside me. Let's talk honestly about what I wish someone would've told me about the ache, the adjustment, and the new life waiting on the other side of letting go.
I can still remember it vividly the day my son left for college in 2021. I'd convinced myself I was ready. I smiled for every photo. I double checked the bags for all the chargers, packed the snacks, folded the towels just right.
I handled the logistics like a pro. He was set and ready to go off to college, but nothing could have prepared me for the silence that followed. The absence was deafening.
Thankfully my daughter was still home and life didn't slow down totally. She was busy bouncing from one sport to the next games, practice events. I was still the snack bag carrier, the boombox DJ for walkout songs, the loudest cheerleader in the stands, the booster club mom. I threw myself into it. Awe, grateful for the distraction, but then came fall of 2024. I moved her into an apartment just outside of the college and suddenly the house got quiet.
Really quiet. The kind of quiet that echoes the giggles from the hallway, the slam doors during teenage moods. The late night, "mom, can we talk" moments? All became memories floating around empty rooms and feeling my head. Parenting is loud, it's chaotic, and it's all consuming, and then it's not, and no one tells you about the grief that sneaks in alongside the pride.
And let me tell you the two, they can coexist. You can cheer them on while your heart still quietly aches. That doesn't mean you're failing. It means you're human. During that season, I leaned hard on my friends, not because I wasn't proud. Because I was in a state of mourning, I didn't wanna be the clingy mom or make my kids feel guilty about being in this phase of their life. I wanted them to soar. I wanted their wings to stretch wide and for them to begin to live exactly the lives that they've always dreamed of. But that didn't stop my heart for longing for one more, "what's for dinner?", Or hearing them slam the fridge like they were starving for the fourth time that day. \ They'll never know how many times I sat in their rooms just missing them so deeply. It brought me to tears and I'm okay with that because that part. That quiet grieving moment that was for me to face, not for them to carry. And now that I look back, I'm realizing there are lessons during this period of my life that I wish someone had whispered to me. Not as a warning, but as a gentle truth before I stepped into the season of release. Before the packing list, the campus drop offs and the unfamiliar quiet set in, there were some lessons that I wish I would've known. So today I'm gonna share those lessons with you.
Lesson number one, you don't lose your child, you meet them again, just in a new form, the young adult version of themselves. They evolve and so does your relationship. You'll witness them, make decisions, rise, stumble, and soar, all with your love is their foundation. You get to show up for them in a different role. You're no longer the day-to-day manager of their lives.
Instead, you become a steady advisor, a trusted voice. They'll often remember when life gets really loud. As you talk to them, you're gonna hear echoes of the lessons you once taught them. Now resurfacing in their own words and choices. That's when you realize, huh? They were actually listening all along.
I actually thought I was prepared to parent young adults. Until that middle of the night phone call came from my son, nothing or no one prepared me for that moment. My son Drew, was in his dorm halfway through his first semester. He was overwhelmed, tired, and just honestly ready to quit, and he wanted to come home. I had to put the phone on mute more than once as I listened to him fight back tears that night. I had to gather myself, take lots of deep breaths, and offer him calm encouragement when everything inside of me wanted to jump in my car and drive to pick him up and bring him home.
Instead, I told him, "son, this too shall pass". I reminded him why he chose this path and why it was important to stick to the plan. I stayed on the phone for several hours with him that night until he finally drifted off to sleep, and when I hung up, yeah, that's when I crumbled.
I remember crying out to God, asking if I did the right thing. I had to trust the process and believe that he would find his footing, and guess what? Eventually he did. I've learned that sometimes when I no longer know what to do as a parent, prayer is the best parenting I can offer. God still sees them even when I can't, and that is something I've had to learn to trust.
That first semester was rough though actually for all of us. It was the longest that Drew had ever been away from home. The longest my daughter had been away from her brother. The longest his room had been empty. But guess what? He found his people. He got a job. He joined a fraternity, and he built a community. He actually ended up graduating a full year early and today he's thriving.
But I'll never forget the way I cried that day as we drove away and left him at college. From Jonesboro to Dell, tears flowed nonstop. And just when I finally caught my breath, my daughter from the back seat said, "I just find it weird how we moved him in with a complete stranger, and then just drove away." Yeah, cue the next wave of sobs. But that's my baby girl though. You can always count on her to be the realest person in the room.
And speaking of Ryleigh, her launch into college felt completely different. From the moment we first locked eyes when she was born, and she gave me the, "what the heck was that?" Look? I knew she was a force to be reckoned with and I never once doubted her ability to make it in life. She has that kind of strong-willed spirited soul that my parents used to say, I'd one day raise, and they weren't wrong. She's always challenged the norms, and I've always admired that about her, honestly. So no, I didn't really worry about whether she'd make it. I actually worried about the people who might underestimate her, and I've always feared for the people that might get in her way. She might just run you over not even realizing you were there. She's the one who, when she was told was valedictorian of her graduating class. She responded with, "no thanks, I don't wanna give a speech, just give it to somebody else."
That's Ryleigh sure of who she is and what she wants, and what she doesn't want. She did in fact give the valedictorian speech the night of graduation. I sat with pride listening to her talk about the journey her and her classmates had faced together. And her speech was perfect.
Ryleigh's move in day wasn't about me decorating her apartment. She came with an Amazon wishlist, a full design board and a vision, and we were simply there to make it happen. And guess what? We made it happen. That's my girl always leading the way.
The challenge for her wasn't independence. Her challenge came with her first job that she landed in college. When it didn't quite work out, she didn't give up. She kept looking and eventually found her groove, and now she and Drew live in a house together figuring things out, supporting each other, and learning what independence and adulting really looks like.
The truth is, letting go isn't a one-time event. It's actually an ongoing transition. That feeling I had when I pull away from the hospital with Drew as a newborn, unsure, emotional full of love and fear. It returned when I stepped into this next chapter. As a mom of young adults.
These days when they call, they're not looking for answers. They're just wanting me to listen, and that's been an adjustment that this mom has had to learn. So that's what I do. I reminding myself, stepping into fix, it would dishonor the season that they're in. I know if they truly need help, they'll ask.
When they do, I'm there not leading, but walking alongside them. Now we have the fun of meeting up for concerts. We actually go to their house where they cook for us, and it's been beautiful and so much fun. But no matter how grown they get, nothing beats the peace that this mama feels when they're both sleeping under my roof for the night.
That's the night that this mom can finally rest her absolute best.
Another lesson that I've learned along the way is you get the chance to rediscover parts of yourself. You see, when your children leave to chase their dream, it creates an unexpected but sacred invitation. This time, it's for you. It's the invitation to pause and reflect on the dreams you may have set aside for yourself.
What parts of yourself have been on hold while raising them? What passions did you shelve to pour into everyone else? That is exactly where I am finding myself now. I'm in a season of rediscovering me learning who Tammy is outside of motherhood and outside of the day-to-day hustle of raising kids.
And for the first time since I was 20 years old, I have space to ask what do I really want? And friend. I'm no longer apologizing for asking that question. I'm walking through yet another beautiful redirection in my own life, and for once I'm not afraid of the unknown, I'm actually embracing it.
I've realized that I've been faithful with what has been entrusted to me. I've shown up, I've stayed rooted, and I've poured every bit of me in my heart into the roles that I've held, and I truly believe that kind of faithfulness is never wasted, that it opens new doors, even if I can't see them just yet.
I don't know exactly what's ahead, but I know it's good and I know it's mine. Maybe you're in this season with me too. The one where it's finally time to turn the spotlight. Inward, revisit a passion, rekindle a hobby, or start something new. Give yourself permission to explore. Give yourself time to unfold, and most of all, give yourself grace because this next chapter. It's not just blank pages. It's a continuation of your story and you get to write it in your own handwriting the way you see fit.
Another lesson I feel this season of life has taught me is it's okay to cry truly. It is. Tears are sacred. They're a sign of deep love. They're a sign that you cherish the time that you've had with them, and that you valued it.
So let those tears fall. Grief isn't reserved for a loss alone. It often shows up in transition. In those in-between spaces where the house grows quiet and your role begins to shift when your kids move out, there's a very real morning process that begins to happen.
You're not just adjusting to a quieter home. You're adjusting to a new identity. The pace slows, the house feels still, and in that stillness, it's okay to feel the ache. Allow yourself to cry. Remind yourself to take deep breaths. Give yourself space to feel it all. Then begin to look for what else this new season might have in store for you.
Start by saying yes to new things, reconnecting with your community, pouring into friendships, and rediscovering the joy in unexpected places. For me, this has been a very unique and honestly refreshing time. I'm finding myself much happier doing the things that I want to do instead of all the things that I had to do.
My husband and I are in a space now where we're no longer parenting any one day to day. And that's brought us back to us. We've only known each other as mom and dad, and yet now we get to learn each other all over again. Outside of the roles, it's been a gift tender. Sometimes awkward and often hilarious, but a beautiful gift nonetheless. And can I just say this one unexpected perk I found in all this is that now when I put something down, it stays there. The scissors, they don't magically vanish. Forks don't walk away. Leftovers actually survive overnight. It's kind of weird. It's quiet, it's new, but it's also kind of wonderful and we're learning to embrace it.
So now let's shift and talk about how do we prepare to release them. What can you do to prepare yourself for this season? Well, I'll tell you what I did the night before. Each of my kids left for college, I curled up beside them on their beds one last time, pulled out two of our most cherished books and read them to them like I did many times before. The first book I read was, Oh, the Places You'll Go. It just happens to be the same book I read before the first night of kindergarten. This time I read it through tears, with a handwritten letter on the cover, reminding them how proud I am and that'll always be just a phone call or text away.
The other book I read to them that night was, Love You Forever. The book that has long lived on our bedtime shelf. I read it to them again with another letter tucked inside. Full of memories and full of love. Those small rituals help me as much as they help them. Because friend, no matter how old they get. I'll love them forever. I'll like them forever, always. And as long as I'm living my babies, they'll be.
And friend, remember, just because they've left the nest doesn't mean your presence has to fade. There are small and yet intentional ways you can continue to show up for your college student that reminds them. Home isn't a place. It's actually the people who love you. Here are a few ways I've used to stay connected to Drew and Ryleigh and trust me, these little gestures, they go a long way.
I have sent or delivered care packages. I'll fill a box with their favorite snacks, a handwritten note, a cozy hoodie from home, or even some silly dollar store finds that make them laugh. Doesn't have to be expensive, just has to be thoughtful.
I text them affirmations or prayers. Every now and then I'll send a simple message of, "you're doing great, I'm proud of you," or "praying, peace over your week today." Sometimes it's a quote, a memory or even a funny meme, just something that says, I see you and I love you. Because friend, that loneliness that you feel, they feel it too.
It's just harder for them to express sometimes. I've also occasionally sent them Cash app or Venmo surprises out of the blue, even if it's just $5 for a coffee or $10 for Taco Tuesday. Let them know you're thinking about them, and bonus points if you add a sweet message like. "Fuels for your finals" or "love you more than Chick-fil-A, and don't tell your sibling".
You could even mail a letter or a card. Yes, the kind with a stamp. There's something incredibly special about opening real mail in a dorm room that makes it feel like love has been delivered.
I find myself sharing music, podcast, or tiktoks. Sometimes I'll send a song that made me think of them, or a podcast episode I know they'll connect with. It's a subtle way to stay part of their day. Most of the time it's a TikTok that I watch that made me think of them or something I knew that they would be interested in. I have this rule in my house still that after all the games I've traveled to and watch them play in, they can at least view the tiktoks I send them.
Always keep the door open. Literally and emotionally, let them know. They don't have to need you to call you. They're welcome to just reach out, to talk to vent, or just to hear your voice anytime.
Friend during this new transition that you and your child is in, remember, they're redefining their role in life, but you're also redefining yours too. Let me tell you, friend, redefining your role as a parent in this new season is no small thing.
It's tough, and that's okay. For years, your role has been hands-on every day, packing the lunches, attending the games, navigating friendship, drama, reminding them to grab a jacket, setting the curfew and being their built-in safety net. But now things shift. You move away from that manager role and you move into more of a mentor role from being their guide through every detail.
To being their anchor. When life gets overwhelming, friend, I need you to realize you're still just as vital, but in a quieter way. You're still needed, but not to fix or decide. It's actually a tender transition. One that stretches your heart in new directions.
You may not be in the driver's seat anymore, but you're still the compass they trust. Still steady, still present, still cheering them on every step of the way, and while it may ache at first, there's beauty in watching it all unfold. Because seeing them become the person you prayed for, the one you stayed up worrying about, hoping for raising with everything you had, friend that is rewarding work.
Before we wrap up today, I wanna leave you with two heartfelt invitations. You know, I love my journal prompts or just chances to reflect and think. Today, I want you to take a quiet moment and ask yourself,
Who am I beyond the role of parent, and what part of me has been waiting patiently to be seen again? Let your answers rise without judgment. This is your space to explore, reconnect, and rediscover the parts of you that may have been quietly tucked away while you were busy raising everyone else.
Also, if no one else has checked in with you lately, I would like to for just a second friend, how's your heart? Take 30 seconds right now to check in with yourself to breathe. To feel, to release friend. You really are doing better than you think. Another thing that I did that I found really helpful in releasing my emotions was I took the time to write a letter to the version of me who started this parenting journey so many years ago.
I took myself back and remembered that little girl who used to play with dolls and thought about the parent I would one day be. Take the time to let your heart speak without editing. Let it be raw, real, and full of grace. My letter was simple, but yet real. To sum it up, I basically told the younger version of me to be proud of the fact that I did it. I showed up, I poured out, and I gave my best. I congratulated me on being the parent that I always wanted to be, the one who was always there cheering them on, even when there were many other places I may have rather been, and let's face it, we've all felt that, especially after a long day of work. I gave myself grace and told present me that it's okay to miss them. It's okay to miss being the mom that I've poured so much of myself into and basically built my identity on.
Then I gave myself permission to grow in this season, to spread my own wings and release myself to fly once again. Friend, remember, this moment is sacred for both you and your child. You're both navigating through uncharted waters that neither of you have experienced so far.
It's scary and very different than the relationship you've known up to this point, but change isn't a bad thing. It's the necessary part of life that readies you both for the next stage.
If this season has left you feeling more lost than you expected, it's okay to say that out loud. Sometimes talking to a counselor, a mentor, or even a trusted friend, can help lighten that load. You don't have to carry this quietly, and you don't have to carry it alone.
So if you're walking through the ache of letting go right now, I want you to know you are not alone. You are not overreacting. You are not being dramatic. You are a parent who loved deeply, and this moment it deserves to be honored.
Let's unmask the idea that we're supposed to be fine with them leaving. Let's unmask the silent ache behind that proud smile because both can exist and both can be beautiful.
Well, friend, thank you so much for sitting with me today as I unmask a part of my life that I myself am still in the messy middle of.
If today's episode touched your heart, please share it with another parent navigating this chapter of life. Let's be each other's helping hand and soft place to land. Until next time. Remember, change begins within and it starts one heart to heart at a time.
See you guys next time. Thanks for being with me today. Bye.