My desire to know what was wrong was exactly that: 'my' desire. What my child really needed was space.
One evening, my child came home clearly upset his energy tense, his silence heavy. Trying to keep my own worry in check, I gently said, "Sweetheart, you seem upset."
"I'm fine, Mom," he replied shortly, avoiding eye contact. Undeterred, I tried again, "You might not feel like talking right now, but sometimes it helps to share."
Still, he wasn’t ready, and my words seemed to increase his resistance. While I stayed calm on the outside, frustration bubbled up inside me. I’m a therapist; helping people feel better through conversation is literally what I do. Yet here I was, stuck with my own child, who was clearly struggling but refusing to let me in. I tried every approach I knew, pouring as much non-judgmental curiosity and empathy as I could into my attempts.
Then it hit me my need to know what was wrong was exactly that: 'my' need. What my child really needed in that moment was space and emotional safety. He would talk when he felt ready, or maybe he wouldn’t, and he needed to know that either way, our bond would stay strong.
As parents, we naturally emphasize emotional awareness, encouraging our kids to express their feelings so they can learn to manage them. But sometimes, we confuse teaching emotional awareness with fulfilling our own need for control. We ask questions not just to help them, but to ease our own discomfort with not knowing what’s wrong. For sensitive children, this can feel overwhelming they need time to process their emotions in their own way. Our well meaning questions can feel intrusive when what they really need is space.
As both a therapist and a parent, I’ve seen this dynamic play out many times. I help parents create a supportive space where kids feel safe to express their emotions. But even with my own sensitive child, the best intentions can lead to frustration if I push too hard for a conversation.
Letting go of control in moments like these is crucial to fostering emotional intelligence in our children. Emotional intelligence the ability to recognize, understand, and manage emotions develops best when kids are given the space to process their feelings without pressure. As they get older, they naturally want more independence, especially in managing their feelings. Our efforts to "talk it out" can feel like a tug of war we want them to open up, but they need to manage things on their own terms. By letting go of our need for control and focusing on connection, we give them the space to develop emotional intelligence at their own pace.
Psychologist Daniel Goleman, known for his work on emotional intelligence, emphasizes the value of being emotionally in tune without any hidden motives. Yet, in that moment with my child, I had an agenda: I wanted to extract information. That agenda was driven by my need to understand and, at a deeper level, by my anxiety and desire for control. As a result, the empathy in my voice was shallow, and my capacity for genuine attunement suffered.
So, I took a deep breath. Instead of continuing to push for answers, I hugged him and told him I’d give him space, but I’d be there if he needed me.
Later that evening, we went for a walk, as we often do after dinner. We walked side by side in silence. As I fidgeted with my pocket, I found a candy I had forgotten about. I hadn’t planned it, but I handed it to him like a magician revealing a surprise. He laughed and accepted the treat. He was noticeably calmer compared to earlier in the afternoon. I joked that I regretted giving him the only candy I had and pretended I was going to take it back.
"Too late!" he shouted, running ahead with a playful skip. "Fine! You can keep it!" I called out to him and caught up while we both laughed. I wrapped him in a big hug and couldn’t help blurting out, "I love you so much."
He looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you too, Mom." Then, with a glimmer in his eyes and a triumphant grin, he added, "But I’m still not telling you what happened."
I paused, letting his words sink in. Then, as if sensing my lingering concern, he added with an eye roll, "But don’t worry. I wasn’t hurt, and no one else was hurt. I’d tell you if it was a big deal."
I exhaled, feeling both relieved and at peace. This wasn’t a battle I needed to win. Parenting means being present, tuned in, and patient, allowing things to happen naturally. By focusing on building a connection instead of pushing for conversation, we help our children grow into emotionally aware and independent people.
My child was okay, and it was okay that he didn’t want to share what had upset him. More importantly, I realized that I would be okay, too.