How did your parents mess you up?

The Weight of Approval

My parents forced me to let them organize my entire wedding. Then, during the rehearsal dinner, they began insulting the one thing I picked myself.

I told them their comments were hurting me, so my dad laughed in my face and said: “You’re too sensitive.” That’s when I saw their true colors.

This was four months ago. Yesterday, my mother left twenty-seven voicemails begging to meet and apologize.

As a kid, my parents made it clear to me that every single thing I did needed to be approved by them first, no exceptions. The best example I can give is when I was six years old, trying to choose between a blue school bag with stars and a pink one with flowers.

My hand hovered over the blue one because I liked the stars. I liked how it made me feel like maybe I could be a star someday.

But then my mom sighed loudly. She frowned at me, telling me to pick up the pink one because I was a girl.

I wanted to protest, but my dad crouched down and gave me the low, serious voice he always used when I was misbehaving. He told me that when I made choices without their approval, it showed disrespect.

He said that if I kept doing it, they’d have to stop being my mom and dad and would leave me. I remember my stomach twisting.

I shook my head really fast and said: “I didn’t want that.” So I grabbed the pink backpack, even though I didn’t want it.

On the way home, they kept praising me for listening to them. Fast forward to me as an adult; I work as an event planner.

I organize huge weddings and corporate parties; you name it, I am really good at it. But when it came to planning my own wedding, I completely fell apart.

At first, James, my fiancé, and I were excited. We toured this gorgeous venue with these cathedral ceilings and big windows that let in the sunlight.

It was perfect, and I loved it instantly. But the second my mom walked in, she wrinkled her nose and said it was too showy.

I felt this automatic panic rise in my chest. Without even thinking, I told James: “Maybe we should look at other places.”

He looked confused, but he rolled with it. From there, it just spiraled.

A Shell of Myself

Every detail and every tiny thing, I gave up to keep my parents happy. I picked the dress my mom liked instead of the one I had dreamed of.

I changed the menu three times because my dad kept deciding he did not like certain dishes. We even moved the wedding date because, apparently, spring weddings were unlucky according to my mom.

James tried to bring it up a few times. He asked if I was really okay with all these changes.

I smiled and said I was happy to compromise. I convinced myself it was fine, but it wasn’t fine.

By the time the rehearsal dinner came, I was a shell of myself. I had lost weight and was barely sleeping.

But I still thought if I just made my parents dinner, it would all be worth it. The restaurant we chose was my parents’ favorite, and the menu was their favorite.

I even got my dad’s college buddy to give a toast. I thought they’d love it.

But instead, my mom pulled me aside halfway through and told me the centerpieces looked cheap. I didn’t know what to say.

To add insult to injury, I overheard my dad loudly questioning our honeymoon destination in front of everyone. I felt my cheeks burning with humiliation.

It felt like someone stuck a knife right between my ribs. I walked over shaking and tried to tell them how much their comments were hurting me.

But they just said I was being sensitive and reminded me how much money they had spent on the wedding. My dad insulted me, saying the wedding was a reflection of our family and that I had turned it into a disaster.

The Breaking Point

Something in me broke then, or maybe it healed; I do not even know. I just felt this strange calm come over me.

I thought back to everything my parents did to me. I thought of every time I had to ask them if I could be friends with this person, or every time I had to ask if I could order this at a restaurant.

Every time they made me believe I was dumb and incapable of making my own decisions. And I realized one thing: my parents are insane, flipping insane.

If I was my friend, I would tell me to stand up to them and not back down. So that’s what I did.

I looked my mom straight in the eye and told her I was done. They were no longer welcome at the wedding, and if they had a problem with it, they could talk to the wall about it.

This was the first time I’d done that, and they stared at me in disbelief like I was joking. They actually thought I was, but then they realized just how serious I was.

My dad started to protest, and I just cut him off. My voice was shaking but firm as I said this was not a negotiation; they weren’t coming.

I told them I would rather cancel the entire wedding than spend the happiest day of my life begging for their approval. Everyone at the dinner went silent.

I walked straight to James and grabbed his hand. My hands were trembling, but he squeezed them while looking at me so proudly.

I asked him if he would help me rebuild the wedding from scratch. He smiled and said: “Yes.” without hesitating.

I almost cried right there, but somehow I held it together. My mom actually went to lunge at me.

But my best friend Taylor, who had been my maid of honor, immediately stepped between me and my parents like a damn bodyguard. James and I walked out, leaving my parents throwing a tantrum in the restaurant.

Rebuilding from the Ashes

As happy as we were, there was one thing we didn’t realize: my parents didn’t have to be directly involved to ruin our wedding. The next morning, I woke up at James’ apartment with a weird mix of emotions.

Part of me felt like I was floating on air after finally standing up to my parents. The other part was having a full-blown panic attack.

I kept checking my phone, half expecting to see a million missed calls from them. There were none, just a text from Taylor asking if I was okay.

James made us coffee while I sat at his kitchen counter trying to process what had happened. He didn’t push me to talk, just slid a mug in front of me and kissed the top of my head.

That’s one of the things I love about him: he knows when to give me space. So, he finally said after I’d had half my coffee: “What do you want to do now?”

I almost asked him what he thought we should do. The reflex to defer to someone else’s judgment was so strong, but I caught myself.

I said: “I want to rebuild this wedding our way.”

He smiled so big it made my heart hurt a little. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” he said.

We spent the whole morning making a list of everything we needed to change. The venue was first.

I called the barn we’d originally loved, but they were booked solid for the next eight months. The coordinator was super nice, though, and recommended another place.

It was an old greenhouse that had been converted into an event space. We made an appointment to see it that afternoon.

The greenhouse was even better than the barn. It had these amazing glass walls and a ceiling with plants and flowers everywhere.

It felt magical, like we’d be getting married in some secret garden. The best part was they’d had a cancellation and could fit us in just six months later than our original date.

I didn’t even hesitate; I signed the contract right there. James asked as we walked back to the car: “Are you sure? You don’t need to think about it?”

I shook my head. “I’m sure. It feels right.”

And it did. For the first time in my life, making a decision without consulting my parents felt exhilarating instead of terrifying.