At least as teenagers, we constantly think that we don’t have someone who truly understands us or what we are going through. We mainly believe that these people are our parents because they are from another generation; we think they are adults now and haven’t gone through what we have gone through. But if we are to say that they understand us, they are too afraid to face the fact that maybe their children aren’t as they wished to be. I mean, I know it is harsh, but what can I say? The blog is even called The Fuk’d Up Truth.
So, back to what I was saying. I recently went through something that will mark me for the rest of my life. Many friends of mine and I started to question if our parents know what their kids go through. If you have been reading my blog, you might as well know that my mom and I have a close relationship, so we were talking about that as well. My realization of this whole topic and epiphany moment was that our parents don’t know us. After all, we often feel as if we have the door shut on our face to hide our emotions, be strong for others, and not show vulnerability because that is weakness. But then again, they ask us how we are and what we did during the day. We don’t feel comfortable opening up and talking about how we truly are because we often don’t even know how to describe it, and we would feel judged.
Will a parent know us if we don’t feel as if they are willing to listen to us? I don’t think so because if we know that a lecture, lesson, or anything they say will make us feel guilty or criticized, we will not open up. Because as teenagers, as people, we don’t like being confronted on something we did; we rather be comforted.
I will tell you something a bit more personal. I will tell you why my mom's relationship is the way it is because it wasn’t always that way. After going to the movies and then got into the Uber, we started talking about the film. The moment after was when everything changed, my mom allowed me to tell her how I feel and what was on my mind, and she promised that she would not judge. After that moment, I did say what was on my mind; it opened the door to a stronger bond with my mom and something that we have worked on since that day, and it keeps getting stronger. I am genuinely grateful for that experience. But what I have to say is this, when somebody, a parent, a person, even a stranger who allows us to open up, is there to listen, and a shoulder to cry on can be what many of us need, but not many people know how to give. There is no manual; there is no guide, nor step-by-step instructions that tell us how we can help somebody else feel comforted because everybody is different. I think that what we all can try to do, especially parents is to allow us and teach us to talk, express ourselves, and give the word to our emotions.
Z.
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