The guilt of living better lives than our parents

Recently, I was on the phone with my father, lecturing him about how he should 'let it go, don't care what people have to say.’ Mid-lecture, I caught myself and stopped, because asking him to do that so nonchalantly was not only wrong, but also unrealistic.

For his generation, what people will say is a daily affirmation.

This brought on a slight pang of guilt.

I am coming from a place of boundary setting and therapy, and all he’s had is this very society and its ways. And it's that sense of a better life that carries this complicated guilt.

It's not an epiphany or a single eureka moment, but more like a collection of things you do in your everyday life that has this feeling of guilt rise every now and then.

It's not overbearing, it's more wishful.

For some of us, it's simply breathing fresher air, while for others it’s not living paycheque to paycheque. Our parents didn't necessarily do anything wrong or live terrible lives; they did the best with what they were given.

This complicated guilt is a result of wishing your parents had the tools you have today or saw the world through a perspective free of societal burdens, not driven by the ideology that if you don't do things one way, something is wrong with you.

As the eldest daughter, I know my father is extremely proud of the life I have on another continent, but I often feel guilty for living here, accepting an opportunity he never had. It's complicated because this life brings both of us tremendous joy...

Older millennials are actively trying to break toxic cycles with their kids, in relationships, with family, with friends, and we accept therapy as a tool to learn, unlearn, and relearn, and that's guilt that creeps up too, knowing our parents didn't have access to this, and if they did, society intervened to shame them.

The guilt is also a bit of not understanding why they do what they do, and it being too late to reach out and introduce new ways to them.

It isn't an admission of us doing things better; it's being okay with asking for help.

Then there's this guilt of having an opinion and being heard, finding a platform for our voice, even if it's WhatsApp texts sometimes. While our parents are full of opinions, so many of them are shaped by societal pressure, or stuck to the tune of what has always been done. For them, it felt rebellious to have an opinion that differed from the masses. We welcome it, encourage it, and promote it; it's how TikTok makes its money.

Next is the guilt of financial freedom, the one that allows you to step out of your comfort zone and experiment with your career, investments, and for a brief moment, you feel this stink of guilt that your parents had to provide, more than experience. Many of them were the first to get jobs, and they supported families, lent money to bad eggs, and all of it often with zero guidance or encouragement.

This guilt isn't overbearing; it's mixed with gratefulness and reminders that we shouldn’t waste this life trying to compare ourselves to others, or their timelines.

It’s not compulsory guilt; if you don’t feel it, it doesn’t mean you are ungrateful.

Going back to how I started this - it’s complicated guilt. We might be presented with opportunities to help them, and sometimes not.

What we can do for certain is not fall into the same patterns and, most importantly, use this life to honour our parents, though living it to the fullest.

Never in the shadow of anything or anyone that forces us to make ourselves smaller to fit in.

“So much of what is best in us is bound up in our love of family, that it remains the measure of our stability because it measures our sense of loyalty.”

Haniel Long