Looking through old family photos with Ellie last week, I found myself staring at a snapshot from my own childhood—all of us sitting around the dinner table, perfectly posed, everyone smiling. It looked idyllic.
But what the camera didn’t capture was the underlying tension, the unspoken rules, the emotional distance that defined our household.
My parents did their best with what they knew. They loved us deeply, I have no doubt about that. But growing up in that era meant following a parenting playbook that psychology now tells us left some pretty significant marks on our generation. And honestly? I’m still untangling some of those threads today.
As I navigate raising my own little ones, I’ve become fascinated (and sometimes haunted) by how different things were back then. What felt completely normal in the 60s and 70s—what our parents considered good parenting—often created patterns we’re still working to heal from.
1. Children should be seen and not heard
Remember that phrase? It was practically gospel in many households. Kids were expected to stay quiet unless spoken to, especially around adults. We ate our dinner in relative silence while the grown-ups talked about grown-up things.
I catch myself sometimes, when my two-year-old interrupts a conversation for the tenth time, feeling that old irritation rise up. But then I remember: his voice matters. His thoughts, even if they’re about why dinosaurs don’t wear shoes, deserve space.
Research now shows that children who aren’t encouraged to express themselves often struggle with self-advocacy later in life. They become adults who apologize for having opinions or who stay silent in meetings when they have valuable contributions. Sound familiar?
I’m still working on speaking up without immediately following it with “but maybe I’m wrong.”
2. Crying was weakness (especially for boys)
“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” How many of us heard that one?
Tears were treated like character flaws. Boys especially got the message that crying made them weak, while girls who cried too much were labeled dramatic or manipulative. The goal was to toughen us up for the real world.
What actually happened? We learned to stuff our emotions down so deep that many of us still struggle to identify what we’re feeling, let alone express it healthily. Psychologists now link this emotional suppression to higher rates of anxiety, depression, and difficulty forming intimate relationships in adulthood.
When my son cries over a broken toy, I hold him close and tell him it’s okay to feel sad. Because it is.
3. Physical discipline was the gold standard
Spanking wasn’t just accepted—it was expected. Good parents disciplined their children physically. The wooden spoon, the belt, the switch from the yard. These weren’t seen as abuse but as necessary tools for raising respectful children.
The research is clear now: physical punishment doesn’t create respect; it creates fear. It teaches children that violence is how you solve problems and that the people who love you are also the people who hurt you.
Many of us still flinch at sudden movements or struggle with the conflicting feelings of loving parents who also caused us physical pain.
I’ve chosen a different path with my kids, focusing on natural consequences and connection. It’s harder, honestly. It requires more patience than a quick spanking would. But I want my children to listen because they trust me, not because they fear me.
4. Emotional needs were largely ignored
My mother was a wonderful homemaker who made everything from scratch, but anxiety radiated from her like heat from a stove.
My father worked long hours and came home exhausted, emotionally distant though he provided well for us. We ate together every night, but conversations stayed surface-level. “How was school?” “Fine.” “Pass the potatoes.”
Nobody talked about feelings. Nobody asked if we were okay beyond physical health. Emotional intelligence wasn’t even a concept most parents knew about.
The result? A generation of adults who struggle to identify their emotional needs, who feel guilty for having them, who don’t know how to ask for support. We became expert people-pleasers and perfectionists, constantly seeking the approval we never quite felt as children.
5. Independence was forced, not fostered
“Figure it out yourself” was a common response to requests for help. Five-year-olds walked to school alone. Kids were left in cars while parents shopped. We were told to go play outside and not come back until dinner.
While there’s something to be said for independence, the sink-or-swim approach often left children feeling abandoned rather than capable. Without proper scaffolding and support, many of us developed anxiety around new challenges or became overly self-reliant, unable to ask for help even when we desperately need it.
6. Comparison was a motivational tool
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” “The neighbor’s kid doesn’t act this way.” Comparison was wielded like a weapon meant to motivate but instead cut deep into our sense of self-worth.
This constant measuring against others created adults who still struggle with imposter syndrome, who can’t celebrate their achievements without immediately thinking someone else did it better, who base their worth on external validation rather than internal values.
I work hard not to compare my children to each other or anyone else. They’re each on their own journey, with their own timeline.
7. Mental health was taboo
Therapy was for “crazy people.” Depression was just “feeling sorry for yourself.” Anxiety meant you needed to “toughen up.” ADHD kids were just “lazy” or “not applying themselves.”
The stigma around mental health meant that countless children struggled in silence, developing coping mechanisms that ranged from unhealthy to destructive. Many of us reached adulthood before realizing that what we experienced wasn’t normal, that help was available, that healing was possible.
8. Love was assumed, not expressed
“Of course I love you, I’m your parent.” But how often did we hear it? How often did we feel it through physical affection, quality time, or words of affirmation?
Love was shown through provision—food on the table, clothes on our backs, a roof over our heads. And while those things matter immensely, children also need emotional nourishment. They need to hear “I love you” without qualifiers, feel hugs without having to ask, know they’re cherished just for existing.
Creating something different
Here’s what I’ve learned: recognizing these patterns isn’t about blaming our parents. They were doing what they thought was right with the information they had. But we have different information now. We know better, so we can do better.
Creating a different family culture with more emotional openness isn’t always easy. Sometimes I hear my mother’s anxiety in my voice or feel my father’s emotional distance creeping in after a long day. Those old patterns run deep.
But every time I validate my daughter’s feelings instead of dismissing them, every time I help my son name his emotions instead of suppressing them, every time I choose connection over control—I’m rewriting the script. We’re breaking cycles that have run through families for generations.
Our children will have their own challenges, their own therapy topics, their own patterns to break. That’s the nature of being human. But maybe, just maybe, they won’t have to spend their thirties learning how to feel their feelings or their forties finally believing they’re worthy of love exactly as they are.
And that feels like progress to me.
