How Being A Badass Means You’ll Still Have Struggles
Just about every one of our stories goes something like: A badass female character fights hard for her family. And the reason we write these stories is that they are familiar to us — we’ve lived through most of them. In some capacity, we, too, fight for our families on a daily basis. Sometimes the battles are big, and sometimes they’re small.
These days, I find myself relating to the leading character of ‘Hana’ in our production company’s upcoming film, Severed Silence, quite a bit. She had to let her son, Petar, go into the world after almost two decades of keeping him homeschooled and protected under her wing. This week, I found myself having to do a very similar thing. After letting Bela go all by herself, to film for a TV series up in Vancouver for a couple of months, I cocked my head and thought… “So this is what that feels like.”
I never thought I was gonna be that parent… you know, the one that suffers from “empty nest syndrome.” Like, “Me? Nah… I have so much to do, I won’t have the time for that!” Yeah, I thought I was above all that.
But things didn’t go as planned. I closed the door and, as I watched my baby leave, I broke down. She is reading this for the first time, just like all of you, by the way — and is probably surprised. I kept it together pretty well, Bels!
Today marked a big milestone in my household, as Bela embarked on an adventure all on her own — the type of adventure that we shared together for over a decade. I’ve had the pleasure of accompanying her on all those sojourns, watching her grow not only into an amazing talent but into a remarkable young woman — both of us discovering along the way that she is capable of some seriously extraordinary things. But before any of this reflection you’re witnessing right now… it truly was a whirlwind in the Vidovic house for the past ten years (a good one, but a whirlwind nevertheless). My husband and I have juggled raising two girls who are six years apart, while Bela and I jumped from airports to airplanes to hotel rooms, to sets in different cities all around the world, on a yearly basis.
This week reminded me that all of that has come to an end, at least with the way it was. I watched her throw a backpack over her shoulder and wheel two large suitcases out of our home, leaving me, holding a cup of coffee in my shaky hand. It’s so much more than just her stepping out to go to work for two months in Vancouver (which is honestly the safest place for her to be, since we practically know it as well as LA), because she stepped out of her childhood home and into the great big world all on her own, for the first time. And, as much as I am raising my girls to be strong, independent women and trust that they will land in a good spot because they’ll make the right choices for themselves… I still cried and was sad long after she left. Even though Bela is the oldest 19 year old I know (everyone who’s met her will attest to that), she still looked like the nine year old I took to the airport the first time we traveled on a job together — fragile, little, vulnerable… a child. The bottom line is, yes, I raised her to be strong but, in the process, realized how vulnerable I’ve become.
Let me just clarify one thing though, I’m not saying that I won’t travel with my kid again. I cannot wait to visit her on set (as soon as we are through with this covid-madness). What I am saying is that it will be different. I am no longer the caretaker. I have become a visitor, not just on sets, but in her life as well.
One of my favorite sayings about raising children is by Kahlil Gibran, “Your children are not your children. They are sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you yet they belong not to you,” and it started to truly manifest for me this morning. It’s scary and sweet, this feeling of pride. As sad as I was that one part of my journey with my child is over, I was proud of what I was sending out into the world. As Khalil says, “You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth,” I feel that I’ve been pulling that bow for the past nineteen years and this morning, for the first time, I had to let it go. I had to trust that she will remember what I taught her… dress warm before you go out (Vancouver is cold), eat a balanced diet, exercise, get enough sleep, drink plenty of liquids, don’t go exploring unknown dark corners (please), trust your instinct when it comes to people (because it’s always right), and the list goes on… but most of all, to feed her soul spiritually every day and be a good citizen of this planet by always giving back, even if it’s in the smallest of ways.
Khalil also said, “You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.” I love this saying but still, have to add that one of the greatest parenting successes is when you see that your child is sad to leave and happy to be back. Nothing fills my heart with more joy than my kids viewing their childhood home, and the people in it, as their safe circle, a place where they can always be themselves, always feel protected and unconditionally loved.
So, we both have things to do in the near future. She has to step out and live her life, and I have to accept everything that comes with that. I am thankful for the journey so far! Looking forward to many more adventures!
“Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems.” ~Ankica Bašić (my mom, when talking about me, my brother and sister)
~Beta
Elizabeta Vidovic | Filmmaker
Almost Normal Productions
