The Struggle, Survival, and Raising the Next Generation
Growing up as the child of immigrant parents, struggle was just the backdrop of my life. It wasn’t something I questioned. I never asked for more, and I didn’t expect it. “No” was the word I heard most, and somehow, that was okay. I had enough, or at least I thought I did. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized how different things could be. As a mom now, I find myself wanting to shield my own child, Henry, from those same struggles. I want things to be easier for him, though I know “easy” is a subjective term.
The difference between my childhood and Henry’s is stark. Watching him struggle, even with small, everyday things, makes me cringe. But what’s worse is his total cluelessness when it comes to basic life skills. I’ve done so much for him in an effort to avoid the struggles I knew growing up. And now, it’s like we’re stuck in this karmic cycle. By taking on all the challenges myself, I’ve made sure Henry barely has to lift a finger—and that’s left him unprepared for the world in ways that concern me deeply.
My good friend Karen jokes that in her next life, she wants to come back as my kid. Honestly? I wouldn’t mind being my own kid either! I’ve always prided myself on being an independent thinker, though I’ll admit, I sometimes follow the crowd—curiosity gets the better of me. But here’s the real question that keeps me up at night: Did I cripple my child by not letting him struggle? Has he missed out on developing a deeper character because his life has been too easy?
This isn’t just about Henry. It’s about an entire generation of kids. With each generation, the struggle—or survival complex, if you will—seems to lessen. Is that a good thing? Or is it where entitlement begins to creep in?
I find myself wondering, how does all of this translate into adulthood for the next generation? What happens when struggle is so foreign to them that they lack the resilience needed to navigate life’s inevitable challenges? It’s a balancing act, this parenting thing—one that’s far from easy. And I’m still trying to figure out how to get it right.