You Are Not Entitled to My Life

Ever since reading her post about parents being “involved” in their adult children’s romantic relationships, I’ve been bothered by a comment blogger That Mom left in her own comment section. In that comment, she condemned the “hands off” approach as unhealthy. Note that she’s not talking about young children. She’s talking about young adults. She argues that parents should be involved in every area of their young adult children’s lives from careers to marriages.

The thing is, I remember what this felt like. When my next-in-age sister and I were new adults, my parents felt they had the right to control not only who we dated/courted but also things like whether we could buy a car (with our own money). The sense of entitlement on their part—that they had the right to dictate or even have a say in our decision making—was stifling. When my sister bought a (used) car (with cash) without asking my parents’ permission, they were angry not because they were worried that she had been ripped off (she hadn’t) but rather because she dared to buy a car without talking to them first. I remember. I watched her cry over our parents’ reaction to her fledgling adult decision-making.

Since then, I’ve heard countless more stories from young adults from similar backgrounds whose parents believed they had some right to control their decisions and choices, even as adults. Every time I hear this story told once again, the enormity of the pain and suffering that results rises up within me. Now That Mom does argue that parents should not be controlling. But she also argues that the “hands off” approach, which generally means nothing more than letting young adults make their own decisions and live their own lives, is actually unhealthy. In doing so she makes parental involvement not only mandatory but also rather one-sided.

A parent’s role in the lives of their adult children should never be more than those children want it to be. If a young adult wants to take difficult decisions to his parents for advice, all well and good. If he doesn’t, so be it. That’s it. Seriously. Hands off. Their lives, their decisions, their consequences. It’s called growing up.

Sometimes I hear the opposite story, not from those with my background but from others. These are the stories of adult children who come back home, or who never leave, or who are always asking their parents for money. “Failure to launch,” my grandfather calls it. In these cases, the parent’s role in the lives of their adult children should be no more than the parents want it to be. If the parent wants to let the adult child live at home indefinitely, or to give her money, all well and good, but they don’t have to.

Once a child turns 18, both parent and child are adults. Their decisions respective and lives are their own. Their relationship with each other and their involvement in each other’s lives is is governed by the boundaries set by the other party.

I’ve been in that adult child whose parents believe they are entitled to have access to my life. It’s is not helpful, it’s not interacting on the level of an adult, and it’s not healthy. It also does not endear the parent to the child. When your child becomes an adult, you launch them, and then you keep your hands off and watch them fly. It’s their turn now, and they’re the ones at the controls.

Sometimes I really appreciate my grandfather. He once told me that he considers a parent a success if their children leave home, get married and stay married, and don’t come back asking for money. Yes, I have a problem with the inclusion of marriage on this list, but I appreciate his general hands-off approach. He always said that you have a child’s first 18 years, and after that you have to let go and trust that the things you taught them will carry them through. And it’s not that my grandfather wasn’t there for my mother or her siblings after they reached adulthood. He was, and he has a good relationship with each of his adult children today.

When Sally and Bobby reach adulthood (and I’m sure it will be sooner than I expect), I only hope I can follow my grandfather’s example.