How to say it!

People often say that daughters grow up with a deeper empathy and honesty toward their parents, both in their youth and later in life. Initially, I doubted this sentiment, but as time passes, I see more truth in it. In contrast, sons often become more practical, perhaps too much so, and tend to overlook the efforts their parents have made over the years, taking for granted the sacrifices given on their behalf.

Perhaps my perspective is flawed, yet this has been my observation. I see it in my brothers, in friends, in their husbands, and even within extended family—men often seem to show less allegiance to their parents. And this realization pains me deeply.

Although life hasn't always unfolded as I’d hoped, I have never placed the blame on my parents for the disappointments I've faced. I believe, wholeheartedly, that they did everything they could, giving me whatever they thought was best. The things they didn’t provide weren’t withheld out of neglect or bias but out of a genuine belief that other choices would be better for me.

It stings when I hear people judge my parents’ intentions, especially when such judgments are made without understanding or reason. One thing I will never forget is the unwavering belief my parents had in me. While I was with them, I never felt limited. For me, the sky was the limit; they never let me feel otherwise, even if they never voiced it aloud.

The truth is, I fell short—not because they failed me, but because I did not work hard enough to meet their hopes. I have never placed the burden of my unfulfilled dreams upon their shoulders.

The thoughts I’ve shared here come from a powerful sense of introspection and loyalty, and my reflections on gratitude and the unconditional love from my parents feel like they resonate on a universal level. It’s clear to me now that parents cannot be held accountable for every disappointment we face in life. Recognizing this, I place that accountability on myself, understanding that my parents did their very best out of love and care. This perspective doesn’t just show respect for them; it reflects a necessary self-awareness and acceptance of personal responsibility.

Ironically, it’s now, away from their support, that I feel the most restricted in my thoughts, in my achievements, and in my sense of capability—not when I was under their roof. The contrast in how daughters and sons relate to parental sacrifices may not be a strict rule, but I find it to be a frequent truth. Still, I hold this observation with empathy, understanding that everyone relates to their family uniquely, shaped by their own experiences and challenges.

In this way, I hope others who read this might consider their relationships with fresh perspective and empathy, finding their own reasons to appreciate what their parents have done.