Catch a neuroscientist waiting in line for their morning latte, and they’ll casually drop, “Our brains are hard-wired for relationships.” Sit down next to a psychologist at a dinner party, and they won’t hesitate to tell you — humans are born for connection. (Cozolino, 2006; Erskine, 2011)
That’s why, from the moment we make our grand entrance into this world, our little hands start instinctively reaching for the people around us. We’re reaching for a world where togetherness is a sure thing, not a lucky break. (Cozolino, 2014)
But instead of the cozy, connected world we were anticipating, we land smack in the middle of a consumer culture. Here, two busy parents hustle past us with furrowed brows and overflowing to-do lists. They don’t even have to say it: “We’re barely keeping our heads above water — we can’t possibly meet all your relational and emotional needs.”
Without meaning to, our parents often place our needs on the back burner, leaving us feeling stranded. And how do we respond? With the unshakable determination only a child can muster, we press our hands to our hearts and declare: I’ll turn my parents into the caregivers I was meant to have. (Baumeister & Leary, 1995)
A Two-Part Mission
So, armed with nothing but the optimism and confidence of a kid in a superhero cape, we set out on our impossible mission — Operation: Fix Mom and Dad.
We are blissfully unaware that some things in life don’t budge, no matter how much love, effort, and pouting we throw at them. So, we roll up our tiny sleeves and venture off on our two-part mission:
Phase One: Turn mom into the person who will anticipate our needs, sooth our hurts, and wrap us in the kind of love that never waivers.
Phase Two: Turn dad into our fearless explorer, introducing us to the world’s magic, teaching us life’s secrets, and standing guard against all things scary.
But… how will we pull this off? What’s our game plan?
The Game Plan
We start out believing patience is the key. If we sit still and wait, Mom and Dad will step into the roles they were meant for soon enough: “Once all the emails are answered, the bills are paid, and the last dish scrubbed clean, they’ll get around to us.”
But, as the days pass, nothing changes.
So, we try the opposite approach — no more waiting, no more playing nice. We demand our parents’ attention: screaming, stomping, and tantrum-ing with the force of a tiny hurricane. Surely, this will create change. (Kelly & Winship, 1979)
But again, no luck.
Then, we pivot. We carve out the parts of ourselves that push Mom and Dad away. The anger that makes mom ice over? Tossed overboard. The sadness that makes dad vanish? Thrown away. We discard piece after piece, until all we’re left with are the parts we hope Mom and Dad will embrace. (Miller, 1997)
Still, nothing. We’re like Wile E. Coyote sprinting after Road Runner: we chase the dream of perfect parents at full speed, only to run straight off a cliff and plummet into a canyon of disappointment. Because…
No matter how clever or determined we are, the power to transform our parents was never in our hands. Oh, but as children we remain convinced we had the magic touch. So we keep at it.
The Verdict Is Clear
Then, with no one attempting to prove us wrong, our belief only grew — it was no longer just about fixing parents; we believed we could fine-tune just about anyone. So, into adulthood we went, attempting upgrades on our friends, reboots on our partners, and bug fixes on our kids, still determined to turn them into the ideal versions we had in mind.
After a lifetime of test runs, the verdict is clear: our power to change others is nothing more than a childhood fantasy. It’s time we retire this belief — not as a surrender, but as a first step to something better.
Instead of clinging to an old, exhausting belief, let’s embrace a simple yet life-changing truth: The people in our lives will always be exactly who they are — not the idealized versions we’ve imagined in our heads, not the fancy upgrades we’ve been hoping for, but their own wonderfully messy, ever-evolving selves.
And, believe it or not, that’s the best news we could ask for.
Because accepting this truth lets us finally hop off life’s biggest hamster wheel. No more running in circles, exhausting ourselves trying to make people change, praying they’ll turn into our personal life raft and carry us to a perfect relationship. Instead, we are free to set out on a much more meaningful adventure.
We can have honest, heartfelt conversations with the people in our lives. We can express what we need. We can sit together in therapy. In all these ways, we can show up, listen, and encourage each other’s growth. And, if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know — deep down — that this is a much better deal than waiting forever, issuing ultimatums, and bending ourselves into impossible shapes in a futile attempt to make others change.