One childhood memory that really stands out in my head is when I was about ten years old and begging my parents for a new bike.

They didn’t even give it a second thought; they just shook their heads and said, “No.” 

At the time, I was sure they were being unfair. Why not save up for it? Why couldn’t I do extra chores? Couldn’t they just make some sort of sacrifice to give me what I desperately wanted?

Years later, I found myself at the same age my parents were when they were raising me. I was juggling my new job in marketing, discovering my passion for writing, and parenting a spirited toddler after getting divorced. 

Suddenly, every “no” my parents had ever said made perfect sense. They weren’t trying to be mean—most of the time, they were just trying to keep everything afloat.

I’m still learning as I go, just like you. But I want to share some reflections that might resonate if you’re at a stage in life where you have more responsibilities than you ever imagined you’d face. 

The truth is, seeing things from a parent’s or guardian’s perspective changes everything, especially when it comes to understanding all those boundaries we used to fight against.

Learning empathy the hard way

Getting older and taking on parental responsibilities is a crash course in understanding what sacrifice really means. My parents both worked long hours, yet they managed to keep dinner on the table, clothes on our backs, and support me through endless school projects. Their refusal to buy me certain things wasn’t about punishing me or stifling my fun—it was about making tough choices with limited resources.

That’s where the shift in empathy began for me. My parents weren’t being cold; they were dealing with real-world constraints like utility bills, saving for my college fund, and trying to plan for the future. 

Once I hit my 20s, I realized how easy it was to run short on time, energy, and money all at once. Even one small indulgence, like a fancy new gadget, could mean something else had to be sacrificed. This realization hit even harder once I became a parent myself.

It’s not that my parents lacked love; their “no” was rooted in caring, albeit sometimes delivered more bluntly than I liked. They wanted to teach me self-reliance, financial responsibility, and to value what I had.

That lesson didn’t sink in until I was the one saying “no” to my own child. Suddenly, every piece of financial advice, every cautionary tale, and every boundary my parents set made sense.

There was another piece of empathy that came from parenting while single. After my divorce, I found myself weighing every possible purchase. I had to handle grocery shopping, school fees, and the occasional splurge on ice cream for my son—an entire balancing act that left me more exhausted than I ever expected. 

It was in those moments that I realized how draining it must have been for my parents to juggle their responsibilities with a child who rarely saw beyond her own wish list.

Knowing that my parents might have felt just as overwhelmed as I do now gave me a deeper sense of empathy. It also reminded me that, when you’re in the middle of that chaos, sometimes you have no choice but to say “no” to keep things from spiraling out of control.

The shift in perspective

When you’re a child or teenager, it’s so easy to think your parents’ rules are arbitrary.

Why go to bed at nine? Why not stay out with friends every weekend? Why not get the latest phone or attend every concert that comes to town? My younger self believed that if they truly loved me, they’d find a way to say “yes.”

But let’s consider the adult’s viewpoint. Early alarms, work deadlines, bills to pay, and the simple need to get enough rest can turn those late nights into a huge problem. Shuffling finances to buy the latest phone might delay covering the basics like rent or the electric bill.

As harsh as it felt when I was younger, my parents’ “no” was a shield that protected me from learning lessons the hard way.

There’s another layer to this perspective shift: the hidden cost of a “yes.” Maybe my parents could have sacrificed more so I could have that cool new bike, but what if that bike meant they had to take on overtime or cut into the emergency savings fund? It’s easy to ignore the ripple effects when you’re the kid, but as an adult, they become glaringly obvious.

I often see articles about how today’s generation of parents is more lenient, more open. That might be true in some cases, but I suspect there’s also a quiet group of us who have become more careful, more measured. 

We’re not trying to limit our children’s experiences; we just know how each decision might affect the bigger picture. From hospital bills to retirement planning, there’s so much we have to budget for that a seemingly harmless “yes” can tip the balance.

You see, perspective is everything. Once we step into our parents’ shoes, we realize how precarious the tightrope can be.

My own shift in perspective didn’t happen overnight, but it slowly crept in with every mortgage payment, every sleepless night, and every time I had to reassure my son that I’d always be there for him—even if I couldn’t always give him everything he wanted.

Why it’s worth rethinking our memories

There’s one last piece I want to share.

Thinking back on my childhood, I see how easy it was to label my parents as mean. And for a long time, I resented them deep inside, even as I maintained a fairly pleasant relationship with them. But reexamining those memories through adult eyes can be powerfully healing. 

It also helps me shape how I respond to my own child’s requests. I want him to know that when I say “no,” it’s not about withholding joy—it’s about navigating the realities of adulthood as responsibly as I can.

Some of us carry resentment toward our parents for their choices, big or small. Yet, revisiting those moments with compassion might reveal truths we never considered before.

Perhaps there was a health issue we weren’t told about, or a looming financial crisis that demanded a strict budget. Understanding those factors could bring closure or even spark a conversation that heals old wounds.

That doesn’t mean every parent’s “no” was fair or well-intentioned. Some parents do use it to control rather than nurture. But many of them were just doing their best with the resources and knowledge they had.

If that’s the case for you, embracing a more nuanced view of your past could be the key to letting go of resentment.

Here’s a quick practice I’ve used to reframe childhood memories:

• Identify a “no” from your past that really stung. 
• Ask yourself what external factors your parents might have been facing—health issues, money problems, or emotional burdens. 
• Consider whether your request was a want or a need. 
• Think about how you felt when you were denied, and compare it to how you feel now that you’re older. 

This simple process may not transform every memory into a joyful realization, but it can open the door to understanding and acceptance. Let’s face it, our parents were human beings with flaws, fears, and limitations of their own.

I also think a lot about how I’m raising my son. I want him to be a free thinker, open-minded, and compassionate. That starts with showing him the reasons behind my decisions.

While I still say “no” sometimes, I try to include a brief explanation—enough so he knows I’m not just dismissing his desires.

I ask him to see how our choices affect other areas of our lives, like saving money for future opportunities, or making sure we both have quality time rather than spending every weekend out shopping.

If our parents gave us anything, it’s the chance to learn from their approach. We might do some things differently, but understanding their motives helps us see that they were human, too. They had no instruction manual, just like us.

Before we wrap up, here’s the thought that resonates most deeply with me: Becoming the age our parents were when they raised us can reveal an empathy we never knew we had.

It doesn’t excuse every hurtful action or tough memory. But it does remind us that no one has life perfectly figured out—not even our parents, who seemed so all-knowing at the time.

I encourage you to revisit those childhood “nos” with a fresh set of eyes. You might find a new layer of appreciation for the people who were doing their best to guide you.

And if you’re a parent now, you’ll likely recognize the weight of every boundary you set, every request you decline, and every dream you encourage. Trust me, you’re not alone in feeling torn when you say “no.”

The irony is, we might finally understand what we once called “mean” was sometimes an act of love. That realization alone can shift our perspective on everything.

And maybe, just maybe, it’ll remind us to be gentler with ourselves the next time we have to be the ones saying no.

That’s how we grow from resentful kids into empathetic adults—one boundary at a time.