When raising children, we need to be very careful and responsible about what we say to them. Even something that seems harmless can leave a lasting scar that might not heal even as they grow older. These true stories shared by online users recently demonstrate how actions from parents can erode their children’s trust.
We at Bright Side hope every parent reads this article to understand the significance of listening to, trusting, and allowing their children to express their opinions.
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My mom has written several books. Now, she is quite successful, and her book sales are growing. I remember how she used to stay in her room all the time because she was writing. I missed her and had to play by myself.
Then, I decided to read one of her books. On the very first page, it said, “Dedicated to my daughter, I’m sorry that you didn’t have a mother in your life.” It’s moving, but at this point, I don’t feel anything anymore.
***
I had a diary where I wrote short stories about typical teenage topics: relationships with boys, first loves, and things like that. Maybe they were primitive, but they were my first attempts. I only let my best friend read them. So, I was shocked to discover that my mom had also read them without telling me. She even went as far as to humiliate my writing skills.
That was the moment I first understood what shame and hatred felt like.
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I was 8 or 9 years old when my grandma’s gold watch went missing. She was quite worried as it was expensive. My uncle, aunt, and mother started interrogating me. They made me sit on the kitchen chair and look them in the eye. I told them I had no idea where the watch was, but they kept pressing me, making me cry, and I couldn’t prove anything to these three adults.
They spent about four hours pressuring me, using tactics like, “Maybe you forgot? It happens to everyone,” or “the good cop – bad cop routine.” I was terrified and stressed out, so eventually I lied and said I gave the watch to a classmate to stop their interrogation.
My uncle drove to my friend’s house, and of course, they knew nothing about it. The next day, I went to school feeling ashamed and angry. A week later, my grandma found the watch. Nobody apologized to me. I just stopped trusting my mother and my relatives. No big deal, right?
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When I was a child, I attended art school. I loved drawing, though I wasn’t very good at it. I often practiced at home, drawing something for my mom. I would spend several hours on one drawing, starting over many times, but about three to four times a week, I would make my mom a gift. She would smile and tell me she kept all of them.
But one day, I saw her tearing them up and throwing them away. My world shook at that moment. For the next couple of weeks, I cried secretly and then dropped out of art school and stopped drawing for good. I still don’t understand why she had to do that. I was only about 12 years old, and I wasn’t terrible at drawing. Whenever I want to start something new, I remember that moment. I’m afraid I’ll never get over it.
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I was around 8 or 9 years old, attending a singing class. In the group, there was a boy named Mike who often insulted girls and ran to his mommy when we retaliated. One evening after a concert, our mothers took us to an amusement park where we found a children’s train ride. Both Mike and I wanted to sit at the steering wheel, so his mother proposed Mike go first, and I’d go next.
Mike took his turn, but when it was time to switch, he refused to get up. I turned to my mom for support, but she yelled, “Either you go now and ride next to him, or you don’t get to ride at all. Am I clear?!” I couldn’t believe it. The worst part was my mother, the closest person I had, didn’t take my side.
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When I was around 12 years old, I was very into video games, often playing all night during holidays. My mom tried to get me interested in other things to no avail. Then, she proposed a bet: if I gave up the computer for three months during the summer, she would give me $300. I agreed and spent three months playing outside, planning how to spend the $300.
But when the time came, my mom didn’t give me the money. She justified it by saying we had already spent a lot that summer on things like a jacket, shoes, and a new table. She called me ungrateful when I reminded her of our deal. That’s when I stopped trusting her.
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At the beginning of the 2000s, when I was about 8-10 years old, I really wanted a LEGO toy. I started saving my pocket money in a very secure place (or so I thought). But, before the first day of school, my safe place was empty. It turned out my mother took the money to buy things I needed for school. She wasn’t going to apologize or return the money.
This incident completely shattered my trust in my parents.
Can you remember any instances when your parents did something that hurt you or broke your trust? Or did your parents fully trust you?
