Nobody warned me about the awkward phase with parents. For me, it was the period right after college that included landing my first important, non-internship job, taking control of my finances, and eventually moving out. I was a full-fledged adult — by society’s standards.
At work, I fit the bill. I was patient, poised, and responsible, always communicating respectfully, pulling my own weight, and holding myself accountable for mistakes. I went above and beyond, taking pride in being a team player. To my colleagues and friends, I was a mature, high-achieving adult.
But with my parents, nothing carried over. The characteristics I championed at work became null the minute I logged off. I cut corners on helping out, had a perpetually short temper, and wore my moods on my sleeve, all while relying on my parents for more than I’d like to admit.
My professional self didn’t recognize the person I was with my parents. It felt jarring. My at-home persona was stunting my independence, and I knew I had to bridge the gap.
It wasn’t until I forged a new relationship with my parents that I became a truly independent adult. What started as a selfish venture to fill my real-adult shoes came with an unexpected perk: It created two of the deepest friendships of my life.
We were stuck in familiarity
Like most parents and children, we breezed from phase to phase without stopping to readjust. Looking back, it makes sense that our relationship didn’t automatically change after college. We didn’t have the foundation for anything different.
With my childhood hierarchy still in place, our decades-old dynamic was in full swing. I asked for gas money, my mom yelled about dishes, and my dad stirred the pot. It was the same parent-child relationship we always had, except this time, we were adults.
Aside from keeping us all on edge, the dynamic hindered me in a practical sense. As much as I tried to have my own life, I leaned on my parents whenever possible — eating their food, traveling on family miles, and sharing a car insurance plan — little luxuries that seemed harmless until they made me feel incompetent.
The first step in upgrading our relationship was taking over the routine aspects of my life, then moving on to larger things like finding an apartment and filing my own taxes. These tweaks gave me respect from my parents and the confidence to hold my own. As I became more capable, my parents treated me like an adult. The playing field was finally level, and it was exactly what we needed to start fresh.
It took teamwork
My parents were instantly on board with transitioning to a new, more adult relationship, but we didn’t realize how hard it would be.
It wasn’t just learning to communicate as equals or better handle conflict, but unlearning years of deeply embedded habits. Breaking patterns was just as hard as forming new ones, if not harder. The way we responded to each other seemed hard-coded into our subconscious brains.
To diffuse my reactive tendencies, I imagined my parents as colleagues. It forced me to pause before responding, question my reflexes, and proceed with understanding. I also started filtering frustrations. If speaking up would help our relationship, I shared. Otherwise, as long as holding something in didn’t hinder anyone’s growth, well-being, or quality of life, I left it alone.
My parents began using “I statements” to convey feelings without sounding accusative and fueling defensiveness. They also swapped giving orders for asking for help when needed. Over time, we learned from each other; our shouting arguments morphed into civil conversations.
We made a habit of checking in mid-discussion, asking if our responses were helpful, and acknowledging slip-ups (and occasionally laughing them off). Every conflict became an opportunity to practice our new skills and ultimately rewire our minds.
Equally valuable was setting boundaries. Finances were easy, since we agreed that everything would be separate. Emotional boundaries proved challenging yet rewarding; they meant granting each other privacy, trusting respective choices, and offering advice only when solicited.
I didn’t know what to expect with the new dynamic, however, I hoped for harmony and independence. It brought both, but most surprising was how our relationship blossomed into a friendship I never deemed possible between parents and children.
My parents are my best friends
Nowadays, my parents are two of my best friends, and I’m one of theirs. We talk daily, travel together, and plan visits once a month because we want to, not because we have to. We stay tuned to the little things and give whenever we can. Laughs are loud, apologies are quick, and conversations are rich and honest.
By consistently choosing grace over irritation, curiosity over judgment, and patience over pride, we’re no longer tied to our traditional parent-child identities, but are free to share, grow, and change — as adults. These skills carry over into every area of our lives.
Even better, sharing goes both ways. I’ve learned more about my parents in the past two years than in the previous two decades. They finally show me the raw, uncurated versions of themselves and open up about their dreams and struggles. It’s pushed me into a new realm of maturity.
In becoming their equal, I learned what it means to be a real adult. Moving out, getting a job, and becoming financially self-sufficient were pieces of the puzzle, but I would never be fully independent without redefining my relationship with my parents. The process was just as integral to adulthood as all the classic milestones.
True independence is worth the hassle.
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