Let Them Grow Without Your Shadow

You might ask me, “Why are you writing about parenting? Are you a parent?” No, I’m not. I’ve never had children or personal experience raising them. But I want to share my version of what I’ve observed—what I’ve felt—about parenting.

Are parents really selfless? Are mothers always kind? These are questions I’ve asked myself countless times. But I’ve never dared to ask anyone out loud, especially not my own mother. Because if I did, I’d be accused of questioning motherhood itself. As if the very act of wondering makes me a bad person.

Let me tell you why these questions even came up. Why do people decide to become parents? Is it to admire a little version of themselves? “She has your eyes,” or “His smile is just like his father’s.” Or maybe they genuinely love their child and adore every part of them. That’s beautiful, right?

But then why the expectations?

Why the pressure to be the best in class, to win every prize, to study only what they approve of? Why does love come with conditions? Maybe the child isn’t interested in that class. Maybe they hate the course their parents are pushing them into. Maybe they’re not trying to disappoint—they just have a different path.

The moment I was born, my mom decided I had to become a doctor. I mean, she never forced me or anything—she just used to say, “My daughter will become a doctor.” As I grew up, I really enjoyed science too. But I’ve always wondered: did this interest truly come from me, or was it a seed my mom planted by saying I was going to become a doctor?

When the time came and I didn’t become one, I felt completely lost. Why? Because I believed that was the only path I had.

I used to enjoy so many other things—dancing, painting, storytelling, sewing, and much more. But I never even thought of turning them into a career. I didn’t know I could. I never looked beyond becoming a doctor, because I truly believed that was meant for me.

Then, when I realized it wasn’t for me, I lost myself. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore. I was depressed—and even after eight years, I still feel the effects of that loss.

My mom never said she was disappointed in me, but her sad eyes said it all—like I had failed her. In that moment, I wanted to tell her, “It’s me who lost, not you.”

So please—don’t label your children. Let them explore what they truly want. Be their safe place when they feel lost. Be there to support them, to encourage them to try new things.

Your child is not you.

Every word you speak matters. They listen with care and carry those words in their heart.

Please, don’t be a disappointment to your child. As adults, we know so much more. When they fall or lose their way, be the person who catches them and shows them there are still paths left to try.

If the only person they turn to when they’re in pain looks at them with that disappointed, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore” expression—then where else can they go for comfort?

This is not just a short flashback or story.
This is the past that shattered me into pieces—and I am still picking them up. Some are lost permanently.

A parent is important, needed, irreplaceable—but they are not our fate.
To every parent reading this, I want to say:
Don’t be a disappointment to your child.
You are their first comfort, their first guide. Please be the reason they fly, not the reason they break.

While writing this, I had tears in my eyes. This isn’t just my thought, it’s the reality I faced, the pain I felt, and the hope I carry that no one else will ever have to go through this. Thanks for reading my untold story.