It’s a long time ago but here’s what happened. My Dad, then in his eighties, is staring at my two boys. He’s barked a question at them and they are looking back helplessly. They stutter out a few words.
‘Speak up! Don’t mumble!’
I intervene with some reply which kind-of-answers his question.
Later that day we are back in London and I picture him standing in the unheated hall with the only telephone in the house as he phones me to tell me that my boys are ‘rude’. They were seven and nine at the time. His hearing was already deteriorating and he was out of practice in how to talk to small children. He never hesitated to offer me fashion advice: ‘You look better in skirts’. Visiting our home, he upbraided me about how ‘unsuitable’ the house was because it was ‘all stairs’. It was true: it had ninety stairs. It had been built in 1827 and was a typical two-rooms-on-each-floor Islington building. Yes, it was certainly ‘unsuitable’ – for him. Living many miles away, with a full time job and two children, I had no energy for re-negotiating the relationship with my father.
In my Dad’s mind I was still a child. It was MY job to call him and if I did not, because I was too busy and too distracted, I would get a frosty reception: he and my stepmother kept a diary where they logged my calls. Yes, that’s right, what was needed was one of those ‘boundaries’ conversations but boundaries hadn’t been invented then and I doubt he could have understood what I was talking about.
Today as a coach, friend, family member and parent, I see how radically the landscape has changed. Three women in my friendship circle have been cut off from a son or daughter and from their grandchildren; countless clients have told me the same thing. The Beckhams, the royal family, it can happen to anyone. A single incident often seems to have been some kind of last straw. In many cases, suggestions about family therapy have been rejected, presents and Christmas cards have been returned unopened, texts have been blocked, emails go unanswered.
It’s a revolution. ‘Honor thy father and thy mother’ is no longer taken for granted. ‘Mental health’, ‘boundaries’, ‘abuse’, and ‘self efficacy’ have taken over. Books, social media and websites abound telling you how to ‘divorce’ your parents because they are ‘toxic’ or ‘emotionally immature’. Very few will tackle the question of how to repair the damage – and there is damage. Some of my clients have sobbed as they described their regret and guilt that they never reconnected with a parent who has now died.
If you are the parent of adult children, it’s up to you to do the work. Here’s how to avoid a painful split:
- Accept that the power has shifted. Your days of active parenting are over. You had your turn. The younger generation may or may not want to do it your way, most probably they don’t
- When you see parenting styles you don’t like, say nothing. You made mistakes yourself didn’t you? All parents are either insecure or deluded about how brilliantly they are doing the job. It’s impossible to do it well all the time.
- If you’re put in charge of grandchildren, have a frank conversation about discipline and keep talking. What are the younger parents’ own beliefs and practices? Sorry, but you will have to do it their way, not yours. Don’t slip the grandchildren sweets and sugary drinks when their parents have explicitly asked you not to, nor punish with harsh words when they have told you that they practise ‘gentle parenting’
- Never think that you can criticise your child’s partner. Your adult child will not side with you. The partner will be the one who instigates the split and will do this ruthlessly. Make a point of befriending the partner, even when there is something about them which is unexpected or new to you, maybe a different religion or nationality. If the relationship fails, this is not the time to say, ‘Oh I never liked them anyway’. Stay neutral, offer empathy, just listen.
- Make your own life. Don’t be dependent on them for love, company, approval or taking the bins out. Don’t guilt trip, Oh I suppose I’d better go on holiday on my own then…
- Get to know their friends and their children’s friends. Have some fun, be surprised and charmed. Ask for help with any gadgets that you find annoying: the grandchildren will usually know the answer.
- Be pleased that they have developed their own family traditions which may or may not be the way you have done Christmas, Thanksgiving, Ramadan, weddings, holidays. It’s fine to ask if you can be included, where you behave like a respectful guest, not like the Mother Superior or the Abbot General. If the answer is no, accept it gracefully.
- Ask what you can do to help. There may be two working parents, not enough money and stressed out kids. There’s a whole range of ways you could be useful. It’s not a binary choice: full time substitute parent or nothing.
- Make it about what you can give not what you take.
- Overall, the rule is NEVER ADVISE, NEVER CRITICISE. You don’t know what’s good for them. They don’t owe you anything and if they say they feel grateful for a happy childhood that’s a bonus. But expect to get some shocks when they talk about it: their view of it will be quite different from yours and that’s fine. You did your best; they will do their best with their own children.
All of this is underpinned by knowing how to have loving, respectful, mature conversations with our adult children and hoping that they can do the same with us. In my own case I have said straightforwardly that I do not expect my sons and their partners to cater for my narcissistic needs. I have made it clear that my now-single life can sometimes be lonely and that I then may sound pathetic and needy but this should not be taken to mean that I expect them to put me first, because I don’t. I am careful about how and what I ask for. It helps that we share some professional interests and can work comfortably together. I am there as a listener when there is a crisis, but not as their coach or as a parent who knows best. I have long given up any idea of advice-giving, but I do often ask them for advice – which they offer thoughtfully.
It’s fine to say no if your adult children ask you for help that you cannot give. I have been told of some difficult exchanges here by my coaching clients where the younger couple has asked parents for big loans or full-time childcare. When the older couple has refused, this has been received sulkily. The older couple is entitled to spend their time and money as they wish just as the younger couple can make their own choices. Fortunately, I was never asked for regular childcare, perhaps because I had already said that I did not have the time, inclination or skills to do it.
Sometimes ‘going no contact’ is the right thing. Sexual abuse, physical violence, emotional abuse or neglect are all excellent reasons for cutting off people who betrayed you. I have worked with clients, usually women, who are still hoping that they can change their parent into the loving mother they always wanted or that a father will apologise for violence that has never been openly admitted. These people will never acknowledge what they did. They justify it by saying you were ‘difficult’ or, deserved it, or that it did no harm, or they deny it happened.
It’s odd that in English, unlike many other languages, we do not have special words for adult son and adult daughter. It might help if we did, pointing to the welcome change when our beloved children have grown up and separated from us in the healthiest possible ways.