My Son's Fear, My Fear? How I Helped My Son's Fear by Changing My Mind

I was talking to someone on the phone about my 5-year-old's fears. "He's scared to be alone", I said, "so much so that he won't go to the bathroom by himself in our house." I continued on. "He kicked his best friend hard at school when she said she wouldn't play with him, because he couldn't stand the thought of playing alone. He often declines to go to his room to get a book he really wants to read, because it means going alone down the hall. He's scared of other things too, dogs, loud noises, bad thoughts…"
I got off the phone and began thinking about all I had said. I remembered the idea that we are the source of everything that shows up in our lives. I wondered if I was sourcing my son's fear somehow. On the surface, I certainly didn't want him to be afraid. In fact, his fear was annoying to me sometimes.
I began lovingly asking myself, How am I sourcing my son's fear? What does my son's fear give me? What would I have to confront in myself if my son was no longer afraid?
I suddenly remembered a brief period when my son had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee on his own several nights in a row. I remembered how much I missed him waking me up in the night to go with him to the bathroom. It was a sweet moment we shared there in the silence and darkness. First I would stand behind him while he had his turn, and then he would sink into my lap while I took mine. Afterwards, hand in hand, we would walk back to his bed, and snuggle there closely while he drifted back off to sleep. I hadn't realized how much I enjoyed the closeness of feeling needed by him until he didn't. I had shared my sad feelings in private one evening with my partner, and I was delighted when my son 'coincidentally' started waking me up again…
I realized, as I continued to explore and ask myself questions, that I enjoyed my son needing me when he was afraid. I enjoyed him jumping into my arms when he was afraid of an approaching dog. I liked him asking me to walk down the hall with him to get a book. I enjoyed him reaching out to me and wanting to be with me when he felt small and afraid. I knew that it wouldn't be long before he would prefer to be with friends, that this brief stage of life with him reaching out to me would too quickly pass. I had to acknowledge, there alone with myself, that some part of me didn't want my little boy to grow up.
I saw that I would have to confront my own fear of separation if I was to let my son feel good about being alone. I saw that his fear was my own. I had to let go of my attachment to him needing me and feeling close THAT way if I was to release us both from our fear. I would need to remember that my son and I would always remain connected, that we could share closeness in a variety of ways, through all of life's wonderful stages.
I cried and cried as I let go of my attachment to this period in our lives. I said out loud to no one over and over again, "you can grow up, little boy. It's okay to grow up." The tears flowed. I grieved. I allowed the change to take place in my mind. I allowed my boy to not need me.
The next day, I could scarcely believe it. My son, who had been terrified of dogs, came home in ecstasy and shared how much fun he had had playing with our neighbor's dog. He happily walked down the hall to get a book that evening, as though it had never been an issue, and in the middle of the night, he got up to turn on the light and go to the bathroom by himself. The results were instantaneous. I was absolutely amazed. In one day, he had completely changed, and all that had happened was a shift in me!
This remarkable experience revealed to me a powerful truth. I really am the source of everything that shows up in my life.