Last week, my father called to tell me about his new lawn mower.
We talked for twenty minutes about grass height settings and mulching blades. When we hung up, I sat there holding my phone, feeling that familiar ache in my chest. Not because I don’t care about his lawn (I do), but because once again, we’d danced around everything that actually matters.
If you’re an adult with aging parents, you probably know this feeling. Those phone calls where you both stick to safe topics. Those visits where meaningful conversations hover just out of reach. Those moments when you realize time is passing, and the words you most need to hear might never come.
After years of navigating this terrain with my own parents and talking with countless friends in similar boats, I’ve noticed something striking. We’re all secretly waiting for the same things. And according to psychology research, most of us will wait forever.
1) “I’m proud of who you’ve become, even when your choices differ from mine”
Remember when you first told your parents about a major life decision that went against their expectations? Maybe it was your career choice, your parenting style, or who you married. That moment when their face changed, just slightly, and you knew they were swallowing words they wanted to say.
My parents still call my attachment parenting approach “that hippie stuff.” They raised eyebrows when I mentioned co-sleeping. They wondered aloud if cloth diapers were “taking things too far.” And while they’ve slowly come around to some of it (especially after seeing how secure and happy my kids are), they’ve never actually said they’re proud of the mother I’ve become.
Research from Psychology Today shows that the need for parental approval doesn’t disappear in adulthood. In fact, it often intensifies as parents age and we become more aware of our limited time together. We might tell ourselves we’ve outgrown it, but deep down, that little kid seeking Mom or Dad’s blessing is still very much alive.
The thing is, many parents from previous generations were taught that praise makes kids soft. My father worked long hours and showed love by providing. Emotional validation? That wasn’t in his toolkit. He grew up believing that criticism builds character and too much praise creates weakness.
But here’s what happens when parents withhold this validation: their adult children spend years second-guessing themselves, seeking approval in unhealthy places, or building walls to protect themselves from the hurt of never quite measuring up.
What would change if your parent looked you in the eye and said, “I might not understand all your choices, but I’m proud of the person you are”? For many of us, it would heal wounds we didn’t even know were still bleeding.
2) “I made mistakes, and I’m sorry for how they affected you”
Growing up, we ate dinner together every single night. Sounds ideal, right? Except our conversations never went deeper than homework and chores. Emotions were off-limits. Problems were to be solved privately. When I struggled with anxiety in high school, the response was “stop being so sensitive.”
Now, as I create a different family culture with my own kids, one where feelings are welcomed and big emotions are met with curiosity instead of criticism, I sometimes feel angry. Not at my parents exactly, but at what we missed. At what I had to unlearn.
Studies from the American Psychological Association demonstrate that receiving a genuine apology from someone who hurt us, especially a parent, can be transformative for mental health and relationship healing. Yet most parents struggle to apologize to their adult children. They might acknowledge that “times were different” or that they “did their best,” but a real apology? That’s rare.
Why is this so hard for them? Sometimes it’s pride. Sometimes it’s fear that admitting mistakes invalidates everything they did right. Often, it’s because they genuinely don’t see what we see. Their own upbringing was likely even stricter, so to them, they were already breaking cycles.
But we need to hear it. We need them to see that their emotional distance left us struggling to connect. That their criticism made us perfectionists who can’t rest. That their inability to discuss feelings left us emotionally illiterate in our twenties, frantically trying to learn what should have been taught in childhood.
The beautiful thing about a parental apology? It doesn’t erase the past, but it does something powerful. It says, “Your experience was real. Your feelings were valid. You weren’t too sensitive or too much.”
3) “You don’t have to earn my love or take care of me to matter”
Do you know that moment when you’re visiting your parents and you can’t sit still? You’re doing their dishes, fixing things, organizing closets. Part of it might be helpful, but if you’re honest, part of it is this deep need to be useful, to earn your place, to justify the visit with productivity.
Or maybe you’re the one who calls constantly, checking if they need anything, running errands you don’t have time for, saying yes when you mean no. You tell yourself it’s because you love them (and you do), but underneath there’s often something else: the belief that love must be earned through service.
Research published in the Journal of Family Issues reveals that adult children who feel responsible for their parents’ emotional wellbeing often struggle with boundaries, anxiety, and relationship difficulties throughout their lives.
This is especially true when the parent-child dynamic has always been about the child meeting the parent’s needs, emotionally or otherwise.
Growing up with parents who provided well but stayed emotionally distant, I learned that love looked like duty. My father showed love by working overtime. My mother showed love by keeping everything running smoothly. Nobody showed love by just… being together. By enjoying each other’s company without agenda.
Now I watch my friends killing themselves trying to be the perfect daughter or son. Managing their parents’ emotions. Sacrificing their own needs. Never saying no. And their parents? They often have no idea the burden they’re creating. They think they’re just accepting help.
What we’re dying to hear is: “You don’t have to do anything for me to love you. You don’t have to visit every week, call every day, or fix my problems. Your worth to me isn’t measured in what you do for me. You matter because you’re you.”
Can you imagine the weight that would lift? The freedom to choose to help from love rather than obligation? The peace of knowing that even if you need to set boundaries for your own mental health, you won’t lose their love?
Closing thoughts
Here’s the hard truth: your parents might never say these words. Not because they don’t love you, but because they might not have the emotional vocabulary, the self-awareness, or the courage to be that vulnerable.
So what do we do with this longing?
First, we can grieve what we needed and didn’t get. That’s allowed. It’s actually necessary.
Then, we can give these gifts to ourselves and our children. I tell my kids daily that I’m proud of who they’re becoming. When I mess up (and I do), I apologize specifically and sincerely. I make sure they know that my love isn’t conditional on their behavior or their usefulness.
And sometimes, when the moment feels right, we can model these conversations with our parents. Share what we’re learning about ourselves. Apologize for our own mistakes. Tell them they matter to us beyond what they can do for us.
Because while we might spend our whole lives wishing to hear these three things, the truth is that saying them ourselves can be almost as healing as receiving them. And who knows? Sometimes, when we go first, our parents surprise us by following.
