Why Our Children Don’t Need Fixing – We Do!
By Jenna Dias
Let’s be honest. How many times have you caught yourself thinking, “Why won’t they just listen?” or “What’s wrong with them?” If you’re a parent, chances are you’ve been there — frustrated, exhausted and baffled by your child’s behaviour.
But what if I told you that the problem isn’t them? What if the most powerful shift we could make as parents isn’t in how we discipline our children — but in how we examine ourselves?
This is the invitation of conscious parenting. And while it might feel counter-intuitive, even uncomfortable, it’s also where true transformation begins.
Changing the question
Conscious parenting asks us to shift the questions we ask ourselves. Instead of wondering, “Why won’t my child just behave?” we begin to ask, “Why does their defiance affect me so deeply?” Instead of thinking, “What’s wrong with them?” we might reflect, “Where did I learn that children should always obey?”
These questions aren’t easy — but they are necessary. Because when we start to see our children simply as children, their behaviour stops feeling like a threat and becomes valuable information. They’re not trying to make life harder; they’re trying to communicate, grow, assert themselves and learn.
The real shift happens when we realise the challenge isn’t their behaviour — it’s how we perceive and judge it. We’ve been conditioned to label certain traits as ‘bad’ because they challenge our need for control. But when we reframe what looks like ‘stubbornness’ as determination and strength, our entire perception of our child shifts — and with it, our feelings — moves from frustration to appreciation.
This isn’t about permissiveness. It’s about understanding. Boundaries still matter — but when held with empathy rather than shame, they become guides instead of punishments. Children test limits to understand their world, themselves and their safety.
By recognising our children’s traits as strengths, not flaws, we create space for both of us to grow — toward connection, not conflict.
Sitting with discomfort
When our kids push back, meltdown, or challenge us, the discomfort we feel often has little to do with them and everything to do with our past. Maybe you were expected to be the ‘good kid’ — quiet, compliant, agreeable. Maybe your big feelings were dismissed, labelled ‘dramatic’, or as ‘naughty’ or compared unfavourably to a sibling who ‘just did as they were told’. In these moments, you probably learned that your emotions were too much, or that you were not enough.
Fast-forward to adulthood: You’re sitting across from a child whose rage, sorrow, or unfiltered joy feels overwhelming — and suddenly, you’re reactive. This is what it means to be triggered. Psychologically speaking, a trigger is not about the present moment itself, but about the past it reactivates. Your child’s intense emotion touches an unhealed part of you — something you were once shamed for, punished for, or forced to suppress. What you’re experiencing isn’t just their feeling — it’s your own unresolved experience resurfacing, asking to be seen, felt and integrated.
So, we do what was done to us: shut it down.
“Stop crying.”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t talk back.”
Not because we’re cruel. But because we don’t know how to hold their emotions — since no one ever held ours.
The mirror
Dr. Shefali Tsabary, author and leader in conscious parenting, describes our children as our ‘awakeners’. They come into our lives not just to be raised — but to raise us. Not to be shaped into ideal versions of what’s comfortable or impressive, but to reflect back everything we haven’t yet healed.
A tantrum, refusal, or power struggle isn’t just misbehaviour — it’s a mirror. It reflects our own unmet needs, buried pain and need for control. We try to control our children, their ‘big feeling’ to create peace, but really, we’re avoiding our own discomfort this brings — fear of failure, judgment, or not being enough. That control creates disconnection, not peace. It drives a wedge between us and our children, he very thing we’re afraid of.
The hypocrisy we miss
Here’s the hard truth:
Many of us expect emotional regulation from our children, while failing to model it ourselves.
We yell at them for yelling. We shame them for not listening, while tuning them out on our phones. We expect maturity from little people whose brains are still developing, while we, as adults, lose it over no homework being done or backchat.
This double standard isn’t parenting – it’s projection.
If we want emotionally intelligent kids, we need to become emotionally intelligent adults. And that starts with doing our own inner work.
From control to connection
The shift begins when we stop trying to ‘fix’ our children and start getting curious about ourselves. When we ask:
- Why do I need them to behave a certain way?
- What’s my fear if they don’t?
- Whose voice am I parenting with — mine, or the one I inherited?
We begin to realise that much of our parenting isn’t about our children at all. It’s about our own discomfort, our need for validation, our fears of inadequacy. When our children misbehave, they’re not failing us — they’re simply being human. It’s our reaction that tells the real story.
And that’s the power of conscious parenting: The radical notion that parenting is not about moulding our kids to make us feel better — it’s about healing ourselves so we can meet them where they are.
The real work
It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that if our child just changed — became calmer, quieter, more obedient — life would be easier. But ease isn’t the goal. Growth is. And growth comes from doing the inner work.
Think of a simple moment that might happen in any home: Your child spills juice on the floor and your reaction is much bigger than the situation calls for — not because of the juice, but because somewhere in your own story, mess was never allowed.
The real work of parenting is pausing to ask:
- Why do I feel anxious when they spill?
- Why do I need them to do it perfectly?
- Why do I react with anger, withdrawal, or guilt when they get it ‘wrong’?
The answers often trace back to our own childhoods, where love may have been conditional, praise dependent on performance, or emotions too inconvenient to be allowed. When you were a child, you may have adapted to survive — by becoming ‘good’, quiet, funny, perfect, or invisible. You did what you had to do. But now you’re an adult. And your child doesn’t need a survival-mode version of you. They need the real you — whole, grounded, curious, imperfect, present.
The cost of not changing
What happens when we don’t do this work?
Our kids adapt. They stop fighting for their truth and start fitting into the mould we created — not because it fits them, but because they’re trying to survive emotionally. They chase our approval, contort themselves into the versions they think we want. And over time, they lose connection with their authentic self.
Later, they may leave — physically or emotionally — and never truly come back. And we’re left wondering what went wrong, when all along, the mould was too small for who they were meant to be.
The call
So this is your invitation.
To pause.
To reflect.
Rather than focusing on changing them, we turn inward and ask, “How do I heal so they don’t inherit my unhealed parts?”
Practical tools to deepen this reflection include journaling, which can reveal hidden emotions and patterns; mindfulness and meditation, which help us notice our triggers without getting overwhelmed; and working with a therapist or coach, who can provide perspective and support when our emotions feel too heavy to manage alone. The more we turn inward with honesty and compassion, the clearer it becomes that our child isn’t the issue — they’re reflecting the areas within us that need care and understanding.
This is how we break the cycle.
Our children don’t need perfect parents — they need present ones. They don’t need all the answers — they need parents brave enough to grow and show vulnerability.
By embracing this, we let go of perfection and make space for humility, courage and the understanding that failure is part of growth.
It’s not easy. But it’s worth it. They’re worth it. You’re worth it.
