If you grew up in a house with a lot of rules, you probably developed some clever survival strategies.
Those strategies helped you then—but some of them might be quietly running your life now.
I’m not here to bash anyone’s parents.
Most of us did the best we could with the tools we had.
Still, if you were shaped by a “because I said so” kind of upbringing, there are predictable patterns that tend to show up in adulthood: In relationships, at work, and even in how you talk to yourself.
As a father—and now a grandfather who spends a lot of time wandering the park trails with little ones asking big questions—I’ve seen these patterns up close, in my own life and in the lives of readers.
The good news? Once you can name a pattern, you can nudge it.
You don’t have to bulldoze your personality to change; you just need a few small, steady upgrades.
Let’s get into the seven big ones I see most often—and how to loosen their grip.
1) You wait for permission instead of trusting your judgment
Growing up with tight guardrails can make “checking first” feel safer than deciding.
Maybe you still catch yourself running choices past someone—partner, boss, friend—before you act.
Nothing wrong with collaboration, but if every decision needs external approval, your confidence never gets to practice.
Try this: On small, low-stakes choices, set a timer for two minutes and decide without asking anyone.
Choose the restaurant, pick the paint color, or send the email.
Start tiny, but keep score.
Confidence is a track record you build by noticing, “I chose that—and the world didn’t end.”
A question I still ask myself: “If no one were coming to rescue me with a perfect answer, what would I try first?” Most days, that’s enough to get me moving.
2) You equate love with compliance
In some homes, being “good” meant being quiet, agreeable, and convenient.
As an adult, that can morph into people-pleasing: Measuring your worth by how little trouble you cause.
You apologize for having needs, you soften your opinions, and you hang back so others can shine.
I did a version of this for years.
Then one afternoon my granddaughter asked why I always said “I don’t mind” when we picked a place for lunch.
I told her I wanted everyone else to be happy.
She said, with the blunt honesty only kids have, “But maybe we want you to be happy too.”
Healthy love makes room for differences.
You can disagree and still be deeply connected.
Practice this line: “I care about you, and I see this differently.”
Both halves matter—care and difference.
If you can say that without bracing for a storm, you’re rewiring something big.
3) You fear mistakes like they’re moral failures
In strict environments, mistakes often come with big reactions—shame, punishment, or the dreaded silent treatment.
That teaches a child to treat errors as character flaws instead of information.
As an adult, the result is perfectionism: projects half-finished, ideas never tried, risks avoided because anything less than flawless feels unsafe.
I’ve mentioned this before but my favorite reframe is almost comically simple: “What would this look like at 80%?”
If you aim for excellence every time, you’ll move slowly and hate the process; if you aim for progress, you’ll move often and learn quickly.
Once you let that be true, life gets a lot roomier.
4) You hear your inner critic in a parent’s voice
Many of us internalize the tone we grew up with.
If feedback at home leaned hard—“Why didn’t you do it right?”—you may now carry an internal commentator who is fiercely unimpressed by your efforts.
That voice can keep you hustling, sure, but it also keeps you exhausted and joy-deprived.
Your job isn’t to silence the critic; it’s to change who’s in charge.
Try treating that voice as a nervous guard dog: loud, trying to protect you, not actually the decision-maker.
When the old script starts—“Not good enough”—answer with a neutral, adult tone: “Thanks for trying to keep me safe. We’re still sending the application. If we’re rejected, we’ll handle it.”
This might sound corny, but it’s powerful.
You’re separating then from now—you’re speaking to yourself like you’d speak to a child you love: Firm, kind, and anchored in reality.
5) You confuse control with safety
If your childhood world was organized around rules, predictability might feel like oxygen.
As an adult, that can turn into rigid routines, over-planning, and trying to manage other people so you can relax.
The problem is that life refuses to be perfectly controlled.
People in your orbit won’t stick to your script.
When they don’t, anxiety spikes.
The antidote isn’t to drop all structure; it’s to widen your tolerance for uncertainty.
Build “planned surprises” into your week, take a new route on your walk, or cook a recipe you’ve never tried.
If you’re a parent, let your child lead the play for 20 minutes—even if it’s chaotic.
These micro-experiments teach your body, not just your mind, that unpredictability can be fun, meaningful, and survivable.
A small phrase to keep handy: “I can handle this.”
You don’t have to like uncertainty to handle it—you just have to stay present long enough to notice you’re already doing it.
6) You follow rules even when they don’t make sense anymore
Rule-heavy childhoods produce excellent rule-followers.
That’s not a criticism; following rules keeps society running.
However, some rules were situation-specific—useful for that household in that season.
If you’re still running them decades later, you may be limiting your options without realizing it.
A common outdated rule I’ve heard: “Don’t talk about money.”
Result: You accept bad deals and never negotiate.
Another common outdated rule I’ve heard:“Never make anyone uncomfortable.”
Result: No boundaries at work or home.
Write down three unwritten rules you live by, and ask, “Who gave me this rule? What was it trying to protect me from? Does it still serve me?”
If not, update it.
For example, change “Never make anyone uncomfortable” to “I will be respectful and honest, even if honesty creates brief discomfort.”
See the difference? The first rule keeps you small, while the second helps everyone grow up.
7) You parent (or partner) with fear rather than connection
When strictness is all you know, you might default to it in your own home—tight schedules, harsh consequences, a quick “no” to keep things orderly.
Structure matters; kids thrive on consistent boundaries.
But if the emotional climate is tight—if affection, repair, and listening are scarce—rules become walls instead of rails.
When my kids were little, I used to correct more than I connected.
It took me a while to notice that lecturing rarely changed behavior; relationship did.
These days with my grandkids, I try to lead with curiosity: “What was going on there?” “How were you feeling?” “What do you think would help next time?”
We still have rules, but we also have laughter and do-overs.
If you don’t have children, this applies to adult relationships too.
Fear says, “Control them so I can feel okay,” while connection says, “Understand them so we can solve the problem together.”
Long-term connection wins.
Wrapping up
Before we wrap up, here’s a quick recap in sentence form you can screenshot and keep:
- Decide small things without asking permission.
- Let love include difference, not just agreement.
- Treat mistakes as data, not verdicts.
- Answer your inner critic like a firm, kind adult.
- Train for uncertainty in tiny reps.
- Update outdated rules.
- Lead with connection; use structure as rails, not walls.
You don’t erase a childhood in a week, but you can outgrow it.
I’ve watched readers make these shifts one tiny experiment at a time, and the changes ripple: Less tension in the body, more ease in relationships, more room to be exactly who they are.
Closing thoughts? Keep the parts of you that served you—your reliability, your follow-through, your sense of responsibility because those are gifts.
Gently retire the strategies that keep you small.
You’re not being disloyal to your family by growing; you’re being faithful to the life you’ve been given.
What’s the one pattern you’ll experiment with this week?
