My Indian Parents and Their Twisted Definition of Boundaries
The long road to teaching my parents to respect my individuality
“What if it doesn’t work out in the end? Leaving a government job could be the biggest mistake of your life.”
That’s what my mother told me when I confided in her my plans to quit my job and become a full-time writer. She could have told me she was upset, that she would prefer I stay put and continue working. But instead, she chose to project her fears onto me, as if that would make things better.
My parents and I have had a weird relationship since childhood. On paper, everything is perfect. We talk daily on the phone. I’m free to visit them whenever I wish to. They keep sending me clothes and home-made food items whenever they can, and we often plan family vacations together.
But beneath this veneer of perfection, are deep-rooted cracks. Cracks that had started showing themselves when I was in school — too young and naive to assert myself without feeling like I was overstepping my boundaries.
This story is not about those cracks. It’s about my efforts to stitch them together over the years. I’m not quite there yet, but I try. Every day, I try.
