Why can’t my parents be kind like you?

2017 in Kandy

As I sit down to write this, I’m realizing that many of the life lessons I’m learning these days are coming from 14-year-olds. I suppose it’s because at that age they question life fearlessly, without hesitation.

This isn’t the typical 14-year-old you meet. He already wants to change the world. When I first met him a few years ago, he didn’t have the usual school-child ambitions. He told me very confidently that he wants to be the next Shah Rukh Khan, and quickly added, “Miss, don’t think I said that because I want to be handsome like him. I like his personality and how he added value to the profession of acting.” I was genuinely inspired. I didn’t expect Shah Rukh Khan to be a hero for Generation Alpha.

He doesn’t come to the counselling room regularly; he walks in only when he feels he can’t face a challenge on his own. His main struggle is that his dreams don’t align with his parents’ expectations. They don’t support his dream of becoming an actor. Because of that, disagreements at home are frequent, and he carries a quiet disappointment that his parents don’t understand him. Today he walked in heartbroken after being strongly scolded by one of them. He was on a quest to understand what was so wrong with wishful thinking.

Mid-session, after a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, “Why can’t my parents be as kind as you? It seems to come to you very easily.” For a second, I almost took it as a compliment. But I could see where the question was coming from. This level of kindness and understanding isn’t familiar to him. Before exploring his feelings further, I didn’t want him to develop resentment toward his parents. So I explained, “What you’re experiencing here is the result of 10–12 years of training. I had to complete two degrees to be able to respond this way. Without that training, it might not come so easily.”

I’m not sure I believe that entirely. Maybe a decade in this profession feels like a lifetime, and I don’t even remember how I responded to people before my training. Was this something I always had in me, or something I learned? I honestly don’t know.

But he raised an important concern. Not everyone is trained to be a counsellor or an active listener. Yet, isn’t the success of any relationship dependent on those skills? At least to some degree? Many children who come into the counselling room share the same heartbreak: their parents aren’t attentive, for various reasons. I often wonder: Why are we so focused on saying what we want to say, and so unwilling to pause and truly listen to someone else? I know there isn’t a simple answer.

This happens often in the counselling space. Many who seek support have never had an active listener, or their listeners never validated their feelings. I believe most counsellors encounter this. Learning to de-idealise myself, and not getting distracted by the compliments that come my way is still a skill I’m working on. Being human makes it easy to slip into pride or emotion, even when I’m trying to stay within my professional role. It’s a double bind, because I don’t think you can be a good counsellor without also being a good human. Tough thoughts.