How Neglectful Parents Ruin Everything for You
This time I will not ask them for help anymore
Every special day I’ve had in my life so far has been overshadowed by one constant: my parents ruined it for me.
I have good memories of childhood birthdays, but every birthday from around age 15 onward, when celebrated with my family, has ranged from unpleasant to an occasional disaster.
It wasn’t just birthdays — my first prom, my high school graduation, and even my university graduation followed the same pattern.
My mother is controlling and usually starts a fight in the weeks leading up to the event, while my father makes no effort to hide how little he cares.
I don’t want to paint my parents as horrible people — they’re not. They can be both generous and kind and put a lot of effort into maintaining relationships with extended family and friends. But when it comes to their children, they often are completely different people.
Dr. Nicole LePera, the holistic psychologist, describes this dynamic as the “Jekyll and Hyde” parent — someone who is delightful to everyone else but often toxic behind closed doors. I always sensed this wasn’t normal, but as a child or teenager, I didn’t have the words to describe it.
My parents were both raised in post-World War II Austria. I know their childhoods were tough, and their parents’ lives during and after the war were no easier. I only know a few things about my parents’ childhoods, but both were the firstborn and at least one of their parents was physically violent.
My dad sometimes shares a story about how, at just three years old, he had to carry his own skis up the mountain.
My mom occasionally recounts how her mother used to lock her in the dark cellar, threatening her with the “boo man” if she didn’t behave.
Writing this, my heart aches and I can feel more compassion for them — this must have been horrific.
Despite their hardships, both my parents have come a long way and built successful lives.
My dad earned a university degree, and my mom learned a profession, both in the health sector. However, working in the medical field, where emotions are often suppressed and maintaining a professional image and conformity are overvalued, did not help shape their characters in a more sensitive or introspective way.
Throughout my childhood, I felt the pressure to conform and to present an honorable image in front of my parents’ friends and colleagues.
The interesting thing is — they would never behave this way toward their friends and colleagues.
They reserve their yelling, criticism, and minimizing for their children. Their friends get compliments, agreement, and big smiles.
It’s not that they don’t want to be good parents, but it seems hard for them to give something they have never received or learned.
In a supportive family, you can ask family members to pick you up from the airport after a long-term stay abroad, they will probably offer it themselves. They wouldn’t make you feel like it’s an obligation — they’d do it because they genuinely want to. They cheer for their kids’ achievements, want to spend time with them, and naturally offer their support.
My parents would usually help when I asked, but I could always feel their tension and the lingering attitude of “Now she needs something again.”
I do everything myself — making appointments, booking flights, making big and small decisions, and so on.
The only things I’ve truly needed help with in recent years were moving flats and, in my 20s, financial support — which my dad always provided, and I give him credit for that.
But beyond that, every request for help from their children feels like a burden to them. So, I’ve stopped asking.
“Ugh, don’t you have any friends you can go with?” my dad would ask, sighing and rolling his eyes when I suggested going skiing together in my early 20s.
“So now you want MY opinion and want ME to tell you what to do?!” my mother yelled when I once asked her advice on which university exams to take first.
I’m not even trying anymore. In fact, I don’t want their help.
I usually don’t think about it— except when I need to do something no one can possibly do alone, like clearing a storage room and transporting belongings to a new place.
My siblings have adopted my parents’ attitude and are not helpful either. They might help, but I can feel their resentment that “I want something again.”
We always had everything we needed — a beautiful house, food on the table, a family car, bikes — but some crucial things were missing that can’t be bought, built, or achieved through professional success:
- Seeing their kids for who they are without the lens of their own trauma.
- The ability to handle conflict smoothly and strengthen family bonds.
- The ability to truly listen and respond empathetically.
- Emotional care.
When I returned from a two-month au pair stay in France in 2010, I felt like I had grown so much and came back with fresh energy and an elevated spirit. My parents managed to dim my light within minutes of talking to them, with their indifference.
I’ve learned my lesson after many frustrating and painful experiences. I no longer expect them to understand, support or even appreciate my personal growth.
This time, when I return from my stay abroad, I will hire a moving company to help me get my things to my new flat. I can afford it now and it will save me the hassle.
And you know what? I also learned that I can grow, evolve, and be happy regardless of how they are or what they think.
I have come to a place where I can be grateful for my parents, and I do love them, despite their flaws.
I have found my inner peace elsewhere.
Now, I’m traveling to the most beautiful places, doing the most magical things, and meeting the most special people along the way. It’s something I might not have set out to do if my parents had been a safe space I could always return to.
I’ve become stronger through doing the work, and I refuse to let them ruin anything for me anymore.
I’m letting my light shine so brightly that no one can dim it.
And this is a pretty great place to be.
