When It’s Not Just About Them: Ego, Protection, and the Conversations That Shape Our Children

Introduction

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the conversations I have with my kids. Sometimes they bring up ideas that are exciting—fresh even—but when I pause and really think about my response, I have to ask myself: Am I guiding them, protecting them, or just projecting myself onto them?

I’ve seen this play out not just in my own home, but in the homes of others I care about. Parents—good, well-meaning ones—sometimes speak from a place of fear, or past wounds, or even pride masked as wisdom. And it’s not always obvious. It can look like concern. It can sound like love. But if we’re not careful, it becomes more about us than about them.

Protectionism: Love Wrapped in Fear

I’ve told my kids things like, “I just don’t want you to go through what I went through.” And I meant it. But when I say that too often or too soon, I start to shut down their process. I’m no longer helping them build their future—I’m bubble-wrapping them in my past. I’ve learned that protection, when overdone, becomes a filter that keeps them from growing the strength they’ll need later.

Example: One of mine wanted to try something I thought was a waste of time. I shot it down quick. Later I realized—I wasn’t really protecting them from failure. I was protecting myself from watching them fail. That’s a different thing altogether.

Egotism: Experience That Talks Over Listening

There are times when I’ve said, “That won’t work,” or “Let me tell you how it’s really done,” and I thought I was being helpful. But if I’m honest, it wasn’t about helping—it was about proving I was right. I had to check myself: Am I leading them with wisdom, or shadowing them with my ego?

I’ve seen this with others too. A father lecturing his teenage son into silence. A mother shutting down her daughter’s dream with a sigh and a sermon. Their intentions? Likely pure. But the delivery made the kids feel small, not seen.

A Better Way: Honest, Humble Conversations

What I’ve found that works better is what I’ll call mentorship without a mic. Instead of delivering a speech, I try asking more questions. I speak from my experience but keep it open. I share why I feel a certain way, but I also give space for their reasons.

Here’s what that looks like in practice:

• “What do you think will come from this decision?”

• “What’s your plan if it doesn’t go like you expect?”

• “Can I share something I learned from a similar situation?”

These aren’t soft approaches. They’re strategic. They invite growth without crushing it.

What I’m Learning

My role isn’t to make every decision for my kids. It’s to make sure they have the tools, the awareness, and the courage to make their own—with guidance, not control.

The hardest part? Letting go of the idea that they have to do it my way. I’ve had to learn how to support them even when their route looks foreign to me. That’s maturity. That’s love without ego.

Closing Thought

If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation with your child feeling like you won the argument but lost the moment—you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I just want us to do better. Not perfect. Just better. To lead them with presence, not just pressure. To protect without suffocating.

And to speak with our hearts, not just our histories.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about who’s right. It’s about who’s still reachable.

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