By Stephen C. Schultz
There is a particular kind of ache that emerges when a child reaches young adulthood and begins to push away the very people who have loved them longest. Many parents describe it as disorienting: the rules have changed, authority has softened, and conversations that once felt collaborative now feel adversarial.
Often, the language young adults use sounds mature and self-aware. Parents may hear phrases like, “You’re too close to this,” or “You don’t have the right perspective.” On the surface, these statements can seem thoughtful and independent. But parents who have walked this road—and professionals who work with families—often recognize something deeper at play. These moments can reflect a struggle with accountability rather than a true dismissal of parental wisdom.
Late adolescence and early adulthood are unique developmental stages. Young people are forming identity, testing independence, and separating from family systems. At the same time, it is common for them to begin viewing themselves as peers to their parents, overlooking the reality that lived experience brings a different kind of perspective. Parents may suddenly feel recast from guides to obstacles, from protectors to critics.
When this shift occurs, parents often observe a predictable pattern. Peer influence intensifies. Conversations about family conflict move away from home and into friend groups where similar behaviors and beliefs are reinforced. Over time, this can create a closed loop of validation—what many parents experience as “group think.” Family values may feel outdated or restrictive, while outside relationships gain disproportionate weight.
Parents frequently ask themselves a painful question: Am I being controlling, or am I being responsible?
This question becomes even more complex when these patterns continue into a child’s twenties. What once looked like typical teenage resistance can start to feel more concerning. Parents who have navigated this terrain repeatedly—whether personally or professionally—often come to the same conclusion: stepping back entirely is not the same as respecting agency. Sometimes, it is simply withdrawal.
Healthy parenting in this stage requires holding tension. Parents must acknowledge that their adult child has agency and the right to make decisions, while also maintaining boundaries around what they can support. Love does not require enabling. Availability does not require financial or emotional rescue. Adulthood, after all, includes accountability—the willingness to experience both the discomfort of poor choices and the satisfaction of good ones.
Many parents carry a quiet grief during this season. They remember the child they raised: the resilience, the kindness, the determination that once felt so visible. When a young adult cannot see those qualities in themselves, parents are left watching from the sidelines, hoping their child will eventually recognize their own worth again. At its core, this becomes a question of trust: whose voices will matter most—the ones that have been present since the beginning, or the ones that are newest and loudest?
It is tempting to blame “the wrong crowd.” But a harder truth often emerges: influence is chosen. Over time, identity follows proximity.
Parents also feel the ripple effects across the family. Siblings notice. Younger children watch closely. Extended family members worry quietly. What feels like an individual journey to the young adult often lands as a collective concern for those who love them.
In moments like these, parents return to what they know. Love remains. Values remain. Hope remains. But so do boundaries. Many parents come to reject the idea that people “find themselves” through chaos or risk. Instead, they hold fast to the belief that character is built—choice by choice, over time.
For parents reading this who feel unseen, uncertain, or worn down, you are not alone. Caring deeply does not make you controlling. Speaking up does not make you unsafe. And holding the line—when done with humility, clarity, and love—is not a failure of parenting. Sometimes, it is the hardest expression of it.
Reflective Questions for Parents
Where am I being asked to confuse love with permission?
What boundaries am I holding out of fear, and which ones am I holding out of responsibility?
How do I distinguish between my child’s agency and my role as a parent who still carries wisdom and concern?
In what ways might stepping back actually be avoidance rather than respect?
How can I remain available and loving without rescuing my child from the consequences of their choices?
These are not questions with quick answers. They are meant to be returned to over time, as clarity often comes through patience, consistency, and honest reflection.
A Closing Word on Hope
Hope, in this season of life, rarely looks like immediate change. More often, it looks like steadiness—parents choosing to remain grounded, present, and principled even when outcomes feel uncertain. Growth often happens quietly and out of view, long after the tension of the moment has passed. When parents act from love rather than fear, and from responsibility rather than control, they plant seeds that may take time to surface. Holding hope does not mean denying reality; it means trusting that truth, boundaries, and love still matter—even when they are resisted.
Comments