On Parenting: The Rewards of Going to Therapy

As parents, we generally tend to want what’s best for our children. Our definition of what’s best is usually shaped by the things we missed out on in our childhood. My definition, too, has a history deeply influenced by the history of my bloodline.

My ancestors were from Bangladesh and came to this side of the border during the partition. As survivors of poverty linked to the geopolitical situation and the Bengal famine, I can only assume that my grandparents missed out on the basics of survival and security growing up.

So, they must have insisted on getting their children the best education so that they could find secure jobs that lead to sustainable livelihoods. My mother’s parents contributed in their own ways.

My grandmother refused to let my mom in the kitchen so that she could push the envelope of women's empowerment. My grandfather insisted that my mother study medicine, a dream he had to let go of because of their economic circumstances.

Years later, my parents did the same by only choosing to give birth once they could afford children. By the time I was born, they were in a relatively comfortable space that only grew more stable and privileged as I grew older.

Both Ma and Baba had to work very hard for this for decades. They still do.

But somewhere, in this hustle of securing the family’s future, they missed out on other important basics like emotional safety. No one is to blame here as what you think is best for your children is also impacted by the times.

Their generation never even knew the concept of emotional needs, let alone the skills needed to process emotions in a healthy way.

As a result, I had a lot of material comforts but my childhood was packed with incidents of emotional neglect. Probably like all the childhoods that came before my generation.

In contrast, as a millennial, my girlhood was blessed (also cursed) with the internet. As information flooded our minds, we learned about alternative ways to feel your feelings. That knowledge shed light on all the gaps we had in our emotional upbringing.

This new outlook helped me recognise deficiencies in my mental health and treat them with compassion. Whereas, my parents had a difficult time understanding what was happening to me. They probably still do.

Unlike them, I did not get to delay having children till I was financially ready for it. But fortunately, as a trained psychologist, I was emotionally well equipped.

When I think of what’s best for my child, in addition to the material comforts, I also see the importance of emotional safety. More so because I have the tools that my parents lacked.

Thanks to everything I’ve learned about things like trauma, emotion regulation, and healthy communication, I’m able to let my child feel heard, understood, valued, and with a sense of agency.

Today, these tools are easily accessible to my parents as well. However, it’s disheartening to see them unable to apply the tools in their lives despite that. It’s a struggle for them to see their limitations without shame shrouded by defensiveness.

Interactions with Ma and Baba are still the same when I am 27 years old now as they were back when I was 7. Disagreements lead to conflicts instead of debate. When I stand up for myself, it’s met with passive-aggressive behaviour.

They’d rather withdraw from the conversation entirely than try to understand where I’m coming from. Clashes of opinions are seen as defiance that they can’t do anything about except feel dysregulated.

The child in me desperately wants them to give me a voice but the adult version of me has settled to set boundaries and maintain peace.

Things with my child are much different. As a single mother in the initial stages of her career, I cannot give my child as much material comfort as I had received. But what I can give my son is the voice I had to fight for.

Since day one, I have tried to mould him to be an assertive and self-aware boy, capable of regulating his nervous system. This is no easy task because it requires me to keep regulating mine.

I may have the skills but I’m also human, and a trauma survivor to boot. There are times when I struggle to calm down and process my emotions fast. Nevertheless, I must have done a good job most of the time because something happened recently that amazed me.

It was a typical conflict situation between mother and son. Exhausted after a long day, I wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible. Full of the enthusiasm of a four-year-old, my son wanted to postpone sleep as much as possible.

He kept talking about one thing or the other and I kept asking him to be silent. My requests started as gentle, slowly moved to firm orders, and soon enough, became an almost meltdown situation.

Up until I started barking “PLEASE BE QUIET”, he had been very calm and cute. I was surprised that he had managed to keep his cool for so long. I was taking it for granted because I only noticed he was being cooperative when his volume also increased in response to me barking.

But as soon as I noticed it, I remembered something. I’m the adult here. Children are designed to respond to the environment and adults are the only ones who have any control over the environment.

Quickly, with that realisation, I let out a deep sigh and went silent. I focussed on relaxing my body. After a few moments, I said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Then, to my utter astonishment, my little baby said the following (while kissing me intermittently):

“Thank you for calming down! I’m so proud of you. Please don’t get frustrated with me. Please don’t fight with me. I love you very much. Thank you for listening to me!”

Obviously, this led to a full-blown repair session of hugs, cuddles, and kisses till we both fell asleep.

Nothing has ever felt as rewarding as this moment and I doubt anything ever will.

My takeaway from this life experience? Going to therapy, learning how to regulate your emotions, and modelling healthy conversations with your children is probably the best gift you can give your child.