Things I Wish I Told My Parents—But Couldn’t at the Time

There are things I never said growing up—not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how. Because I was afraid. Because the words felt too big, or I felt too small. Because our hearts beat with love, but not always with understanding.

Now, with age and distance, I see our story more clearly. I see the sacrifice, the effort, the imperfection, the intention. I also see the cracks—the missed moments, the unspoken hurts, the misunderstandings that left quiet scars.

This is not a list of blame. It’s a love letter. A reckoning. A soft unveiling of the truths I carried too long in silence.

Here are the things I wish I told you—but couldn’t at the time.

1. I Was Scared More Often Than You Knew

I tried to be strong. To not burden you. But I was scared—of failing, of disappointing you, of not being good enough. I was scared when I got bullied. When I got sick. When I didn’t understand my own feelings.

I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you worry. But I wish I had. I wish I had let you hold me in my mess, not just in my milestones.

2. I Wanted Your Approval More Than Anything

Every achievement, every good grade, every smile—I was searching for your pride.

Sometimes I felt it. Sometimes I wasn’t sure.

I know you loved me. But I wish I heard “I’m proud of you” more, not just when I succeeded, but when I was simply trying. When I got back up. When I stood in my truth, even if it didn’t look like success to you.

3. I Didn’t Know How to Talk to You About My Emotions

We didn’t talk about feelings much. Not the big ones, not the scary ones. So I learned to hide them. To cry quietly. To pretend I was fine.

I needed more than discipline. I needed language. Permission. A model of emotional safety.

But I understand now—you didn’t get that either. You did the best you could with what you knew. And for that, I’m not angry. Just… healing.

4. Sometimes Your Silence Felt Like Absence

You were busy. You were tired. You were dealing with your own pain. But when you went quiet, I felt like I disappeared too.

I wish I had told you how I longed to hear your thoughts. Your dreams. Your fears. Not just as my parent, but as a person.

Your presence mattered more than you knew—even when you thought you had nothing left to give.

5. I Was Trying to Be Myself—Even When It Looked Like Rebellion

When I pushed back, when I dressed differently, thought differently, dreamed differently—it wasn’t rejection. It was identity.

I wish I told you that I wasn’t trying to be against you—I was trying to be me. To figure out who I was outside of your expectations.

And though we didn’t always agree, I needed to know that love didn’t depend on my compliance.

6. I Wish You Apologized When You Got It Wrong

You were my model for everything. So when you messed up and never acknowledged it, I didn’t know how to trust my feelings.

An apology wouldn’t have made you weak. It would have made you human.

I’ve learned now that parents can be loving and flawed. And that forgiveness can exist even in the absence of admission.

Still, I wish we had met more in humility.

7. I Heard the Things You Thought I Didn’t

The fights. The stress. The whispered doubts. I absorbed it all like secondhand smoke.

I wish I could have told you how deeply I felt everything in our home—even the things that weren’t said out loud.

And maybe I wish you knew that sometimes children carry pain that didn’t start with them.

8. I Know You Loved Me—Even When You Didn’t Know How to Show It

This one is hard. Because I felt the love. I just didn’t always see it. Not in the ways I needed.

Your love was in the lunchboxes. The carpools. The sacrifices. But I also needed hugs. I needed softness. I needed, “Tell me what’s wrong,” not “You’re overreacting.”

Still, I know you tried. And now that I’m older, I see your efforts more clearly. And I’m thankful.

9. I Forgive You—Even for the Things You Didn’t Know You Did

You made mistakes. You missed moments. You said things I still remember.

But I forgive you. Not just because I understand you now—but because I understand myself better. I know how hard it is to love while healing. To parent while still carrying your own wounds.

I forgive you because you were doing the best you could with the tools you had. And because I love you—fully, honestly, freely.

If You’re a Parent, Here’s What I Hope You Know:

• “Look what I did!”: I want to make you proud

• “You never listen!”: I need to feel seen

• “You don’t get it!”: I wish you’d try to understand me, even when we disagree

• “I hate you!”: I’m hurting—and I need you to stay, even when I push away

• Silence or withdrawal: feel unsafe or unseen; please reach out gently

I couldn’t say these things back then. I didn’t have the language. Or the courage. Or the safety.

But I can say them now. Not to blame. Not to shame. But to free myself—and maybe you too.

If you’re reading this and see your own parent—or your own child—inside these words, I hope it softens something in you.

Because between the silence, the lessons, and the love—we’re all just doing our best to be understood.