Giving Advice That You’d Want Someone Else To Give To Your Child – Especially When It Hurts

Last week, I had a conversation with an MBA student at my alma mater, Brigham Young University.

I had known him during undergrad, and you could say I’ve been a mentor of sorts to him throughout his professional journey. While we were talking, I had a thought that I believed could be helpful to him.?

But I hesitated. If I genuinely thought my advice could be useful, why pause? Well, I thought about my children, in their early-to-mid twenties, and I felt that if I gave this advice to them, they would find it problematic, to say the least. It’s something we’ve all probably encountered at one point or another: is it harsh to say out loud because it’s true, or is it just harsh?

So I asked for permission to say the thing, and he gave it. And I do believe that, at some level, he heard me.

I had another conversation with the son of some old friends I had from back when my husband and I lived in New York. I wasn't planning on saying anything, but when he talked to me about his career, and it was clear he was trying to sort through some obstacles, I felt that what I had to say might be useful. Again, I asked for permission. He gave it to me. And again, at some level, he had heard me.

As a parent, there are things that I would like to say to my children, to guide them, and to support them, but because I value the relationship, I cannot. The harsh thing may be true, it may tap into the very core of the situation – but there’s no way to surmount the fact that it is still hard to hear. Painful remedies may heal an illness, but a part of you is inflicting pain with your own hand. And with our closest relationships, that can be a line we cannot bring ourselves to cross, to say the thing and see the look on their faces. Think of the doctor who refuses to operate on his own child.?

But here’s the other half of parenting with care – your children need to be able to individuate. You can’t become your own person if that inner voice is never nurtured, kept afloat by constant advice like a backseat driver. So, where’s the balance between guidance and trust?

I discovered last week that the maxim “it takes a village” truly applies here. When the tough-but-true guidance can come from someone else in your child’s life, someone who doesn’t see through the lens of family, then there’s a degree of separation that allows for a more clinical, critical eye. How many times have we resisted advice on the sheer fact that it was coming from our parents? How much more likely are we to accept that difficult advice from a professor, a boss, or someone with much less emotional stake? It takes a village to raise a child (or adult!)?

So, I will keep looking for these opportunities, to say the hard thing to those I mentor in some capacity – after asking permission. And I hope that every adult, who is in some sort of position of authority with regards to someone else's child, and who sees an opportunity for course correction, especially when it’s painful but valuable – I hope that you’ll say what needs to be said.

You would want someone to do this for your child, after all.