I was speaking to a friend the other day, and the topic of our relationship with our parents came up. What she said really made me laugh, “You grow up idolising your parents, then you can’t wait to get away from them, and then you realise they’re just human like the rest of us.” It made me laugh because I could completely resonate with what she said. My relationship with my parents has definitely had its ups and downs, but interestingly, over the last four to five years, we’ve been able to evolve our relationship into a genuinely open and honest one on both sides.

But, we don’t seem to talk about our relationships with our parents that much, or certainly not as openly as we might discuss our friendships or partnerships. It’s almost as if both parent and child are expected to settle for what they have, and not try to build or change it. I find this quite strange, as like with any relationship, it has to shift over time. And I’d argue even more so in the case of the parent child scenario, because over the lifespan of the relationship, the child changes into an adult, and maybe even a parent themselves.

I’m fascinated by my own relationship with my parents and how it’s changed over the years. Building an honest, adult relationship with them was incredibly important to me. I completely understand that not everyone wants to do this, or is able to, so I’m talking from a position of privilege, but I thought it was important to share the journey we’ve all been on as a family to get to where we are today.

I hate to be such a cliché, but from the age of about 12 to my late teens, I was your typical teenager. I lost the ability to be able to communicate with my parents and it literally felt like we were living on different planets most of the time. I didn’t think they understood me at all, and I didn’t have the ability (or maturity) to try and communicate with them in order to help them understand who I was. I thought they’d judge me for my behaviour (drinking, drugs, boys, the usual teenage antics), which in reality they would have done nothing of the sort. I completely shut down to them. I was grumpy, I didn’t speak much, and I felt annoyed at them. Annoyed that they couldn’t just get me, although to be honest I had no idea who I was at that age either.

I put up a metaphorical wall, and it stayed there for a hell of a long time. The problem with building walls, is that as the wall builder, you become isolated. And that’s what happened to me. I felt alone within the family unit, and so instead of trying to reach out, my wall simply got higher and wider, a vicious cycle really. I don’t think my mum and dad knew how to deal with my silence, and so they did what any parent would do, they put it down to “being a phase” and let me be. To be honest, I don’t know what else they could have done, as I don’t think I would have been very receptive to them opening up a dialogue with me. And because the silence played such a dominant role in my relationship with them, I wouldn’t have known where to start in trying to open up. I remember thinking about things that I wanted to tell them on my way home from school, but when I was around them, I physically couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. It was very strange, and sad.

I’d look at the relationships my friends had with their parents, and although they weren’t always easy, they didn’t seem to have the same engrained distance that mine did. Looking back, I think it was because they were able to express themselves better than I was, so even though this might have resulted in an argument, it was still a form of communication. Whereas in my situation, I wouldn’t even give enough away to instigate a conflict. It was just silence or one-word answers.      

Things started to shift a little when I moved away to go to university in Cardiff. It was the first time I’d had total independence and space away from them, and I think it started to give me a different perspective.

I also really struggled in my first year of uni. I felt really insecure, fuelled by imposter syndrome (questioning my intelligence compared to everyone else’s), not really meeting people that I clicked with, and I was drinking a lot in order to try and cover up the insecurities. It was a tricky time, and I think it made me miss the secure and nurturing environment my mum and dad had always provided for me (which I now appreciate how lucky I was to have). Going to university gave me the space I needed in order to see how much I loved and needed them.

It was during this time that I attempted to communicate with my mum and reach out about some of the things I’d been feeling which may have caused the barrier between us all. I wrote her a letter, I don’t remember the detail of it, but I do remember feeling that it was a milestone moment. I’d made the first step in trying to change the way we were. The problem was, that because it was the first time I’d tried to communicate, neither of us had the tools to follow-up on it. We still didn’t know how to speak or relate to each other, so it kind of got brushed under the carpet.

That was until me late twenties. I had this burning desire to reach out to my parents (particularly my mum) and let them know that I wanted to speak, really speak. I wanted us to have a different relationship, one in which we were open and honest. And I knew that in order to get to that place, I had to also recognise how difficult things had been in the past. This conversation took place around Christmas time about five years ago. Mum and I had gone to a tapas place for lunch. I remember being really nervous, because we just didn’t speak like that, and I felt vulnerable putting myself out there in that way.

Again, I don’t remember the details of what was said, but I remember walking home feeling lighter. I’d opened up to my mum properly, and in person, for the first time.

I think it took some time for mum to process her thoughts around our conversation, not that it was bad, but it was just different, and it brought up things from the past that we’d both probably forgotten about or buried. But, we did agree that we wanted to be closer and get to know each other as people rather than simply parent and child. So, then began the journey for all of us, my dad included, working out what this new relationship with each other would look and feel like.

This transitioning phase was probably the hardest. There were lots of tears. My mum and I also had an argument one evening in London, something we’d never done before. But, I think all of this was the beginning of us being more honest with each other about our feelings and connecting with each other on a deeper level than we had before. This also started to shift our relationship because I felt like we were all sharing. The traditional power imbalance of the parent child relationship started to breakdown.

Talking also helped me to truly understand what things had been like for my parents when I was younger, and that enabled me to empathise in a way that I hadn’t done before. I felt that by having these conversations, we all opened up and were able to get new perspectives on things that we’d just taken for granted or made assumptions about. I also saw both my mum and dad as people for the first time. I wasn’t putting them on a pedestal or expecting them to automatically understand my needs without expressing them. They were exactly the same as me, trying their best to do the right thing with the knowledge, experience, and circumstances available to them. And what I realised was that it hadn’t always been easy. 

As I prepare to become a parent at the end of this year, it’s made me think even more about the complexities of raising a human. We all want to be our best selves, and hope that our child will pick-up our positive traits rather than our less desirable ones. But, the truth is that we’re all flawed, and we’re going to mess up in one way or another. I think the most important thing I will take with me as I embark upon my journey into parenthood, and something that I’ve learnt from my beautiful parents, is the importance of listening, and patience.

Have you changed your relationship with your parents as you’ve grown into adulthood, or do you feel that it’s fine just the way it is? I’d love to hear your stories.