Last week at the farmers’ market, I overheard a conversation that stopped me in my tracks. A woman about my age was chatting with friends while her grown daughter picked out tomatoes nearby. “Sarah was such an easy child,” she said proudly.
“Never gave us any trouble, always did what she was told.” Her daughter’s face tightened just slightly before she forced a smile and added, “Yeah, I learned pretty quickly what was expected.”
That tiny moment? It spoke volumes. After years of observing families—first as a kindergarten teacher, now as a mom myself—I’ve noticed how adult children talk about their childhoods reveals so much about what they’re still processing.
The stories they choose to tell, the way they tell them, and especially what they say when their parents are right there listening… it’s all a window into what they’re still carrying.
1) They speak in code about emotional needs
Ever notice how some adults describe their childhoods using phrases like “we didn’t need much” or “my parents worked hard to provide”? These aren’t just facts; they’re often code for something deeper.
When someone consistently frames their childhood through what they had materially while glossing over emotional connection, they might still be carrying the weight of unmet emotional needs. I see this in my own story sometimes.
Growing up in my small Midwest town, we had family dinners every single night—picture perfect from the outside. But those conversations? They stayed safely on the surface. Good grades, chores completed, plans for tomorrow. Never feelings, fears, or dreams that felt too big or too vulnerable.
Now when I hear adults say things like “my parents did their best” with that particular tight smile, I recognize it. They’re often still trying to reconcile love with emotional absence, still carrying the burden of having needed more than they got.
2) They minimize their own experiences
- “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”
- “Other kids had it worse.”
- “I shouldn’t complain.”
Sound familiar? When adult children consistently minimize their childhood experiences, especially difficult ones, it usually means they’re still carrying shame about having needs or feelings at all. They learned early that their struggles weren’t valid enough, important enough, or that expressing them caused problems.
This hits close to home for me. My parents were good people who loved me, but in their world, children who expressed negative emotions were being difficult. So I learned to shrink my feelings down to acceptable sizes.
Even now, I catch myself doing it—starting a story about something that hurt me as a child, then quickly adding “but really, it was fine.” That minimizing? It’s the ghost of a child who learned her feelings were too much.
3) They overexplain their parents’ behavior
Here’s something I notice constantly: when adult children spend more time explaining why their parents acted certain ways than describing their own experience, they’re usually still in protection mode.
- “My mom was stressed because…”
- “My dad grew up in a different time when…”
- “They had a lot on their plate with…”
While understanding our parents’ context can be healing, constant overexplaining often means we’re still prioritizing their feelings over our own truth. We’re still being the good child who doesn’t make waves, who understands, who forgives before even acknowledging what needs forgiving.
4) They laugh off painful memories
You know that hollow laugh that comes with stories like “Remember when Dad threw my report card in the trash because of that B+? Classic!” Or “Mom used to lock herself in her room for hours when she was upset—we called it Mom’s timeout, ha!”
That laughter isn’t real joy. It’s a protective mechanism, a way to share truth while keeping it at arm’s length. When adult children consistently use humor to deflect from childhood pain, they’re often still carrying the belief that their hurt isn’t safe to express directly.
They learned to make their pain palatable, even entertaining, rather than asking for it to be witnessed and held.
5) They struggle with specifics
“How was your childhood?”
“Good! Normal. You know, typical stuff.”
When adult children can only speak in vague generalities about their upbringing, it often signals disconnection—either from their memories or from themselves.
Sometimes trauma isn’t one big thing; sometimes it’s the absence of attunement, the pattern of not being seen. When you’re not really seen as a child, you might struggle to see your own childhood clearly as an adult.
In my classroom years, I watched how children whose emotions were consistently validated could tell rich, detailed stories about their experiences. Those whose feelings were dismissed or ignored? Their stories stayed surface-level, general, safe. That pattern follows us into adulthood.
6) They perform happiness for their parents
This one breaks my heart every time I see it. Adult children who dramatically shift their demeanor when parents are present—suddenly cheerier, more grateful, more “fine”—are usually still carrying the exhausting burden of managing their parents’ emotions.
Maybe as kids, they learned that Mom couldn’t handle their sadness. Or Dad needed them to be successful to feel good about himself. So they became emotional contortionists, shaping themselves into whatever version brought peace to the household.
Decades later, they’re still performing that exhausting show.
7) They can’t set boundaries without guilt
When I hear adult children apologizing profusely for basic boundaries—”I feel terrible, but we can only stay for two hours”—or justifying normal adult decisions endlessly, I see someone still carrying childhood programming that their needs are less important than keeping others comfortable.
This is perhaps my biggest ongoing struggle. That people-pleasing perfectionism I learned growing up? It whispers that good daughters don’t disappoint their parents, that love means never saying “that doesn’t work for me.”
Creating a different family culture with my own kids means constantly working against these old patterns.
Breaking the cycle
Here’s what I’ve learned: recognizing these patterns isn’t about blame. Our parents were likely carrying their own childhood burdens, doing their best with what they knew. But recognition is the first step to healing, to choosing differently.
In my home now, feelings get named and validated. Mistakes are discussed without shame. Boundaries are respected. My kids won’t have to speak in code about their emotional needs or laugh off their pain. They won’t have to minimize their experiences or manage my emotions.
Will they have their own things to work through? Probably. We’re all human, doing our best with what we know. But maybe, just maybe, when they’re adults talking about their childhood, they’ll be able to speak directly, honestly, without all that protective armor. They’ll carry memories, not burdens.
And that small shift? It changes everything for the generation that comes after.
