The Sad Ending of a Life Lived “Only for the Kids”
Just the other day, I remembered something that happened years ago at a psychology workshop. There was this elderly woman in the room—simple, unassuming, with such kind eyes. When the facilitator asked what she wanted out of life, she didn’t even pause before answering:
“I just want my children to be happy…”
Everyone nodded. Of course, that sounds right. Almost noble, really. Isn’t that what a “proper” mother *should* say? We grow up believing that parents—especially mums—should always put their kids’ needs before their own. From childhood, we’re fed this image of a woman who lives entirely for her child, sacrificing everything—her career, her dreams, her health. But is that sacrifice ever really happy?
Men, by the way, rarely say things like that. Maybe because society lets them have boundaries. But a woman? A woman’s supposed to be the “perfect mother.” A lifetime spent thinking only of others. Even when the kids are grown, with families of their own, parents keep giving until there’s nothing left—like they don’t have a right to their own lives.
But what’s the result? Where’s *her* happiness in all this? Selflessness isn’t always love. Sometimes, it’s just self-destruction. Loving your kids is normal. Caring for them, spoiling them sometimes—fine. But forgetting yourself, turning your life into never-ending service? That’s a problem.
If a mum lives only for her child’s wants, works herself to exhaustion to buy the latest gadget or fund some luxury holiday, piles up debt, never rests—what does that teach? The child grows up expecting everything to revolve around them. They start thinking the world owes them. And when Mum suddenly *can’t* deliver? They don’t get it. *Why not?*
We raise selfish people with our own hands. And it’s our fault. Because we never showed them love isn’t just about *giving*—it’s also about *boundaries*. We never explained that Mum’s back might ache, that Dad might have his own dreams, that parents aren’t wish-granting machines.
Then there’s the other extreme—parents who don’t just live *for* their kids, but *instead* of them. They choose for them, think for them, even give gifts the child never wanted. They call it love, but it’s really just anxiety. That kind of mum won’t let go, won’t let them grow up. Because without them—she’s nothing.
Of course, care shouldn’t vanish. If Mum can afford to treat her son to a holiday—why not? But not at the cost of her own tears and sleepless nights. There’s got to be balance. Love isn’t sacrifice—it’s warmth, respect, and freedom.
Sadly, even well-off parents sometimes give their kids everything, but miss the point—they don’t teach them to *work* for things. They never instill that drive to achieve. So the child grows up cushioned, then crashes into reality—clueless. There are exceptions, sure, but not many.
All it would’ve taken was this: *Respect hard work. Help your parents. Value what you have.* So that, years later, grown-up kids might say, *”I want my mum and dad to be happy. I want to take them to the seaside, show them the world they missed—because once, they gave up everything for me.”*
And that woman at the workshop? Half an hour later, she added softly, almost shyly:
“I’d… really love to see the sea again. My kids go every year—summer, autumn, all the time. But me? It’s been ages. My husband and I went, back when we were young… Feels like another lifetime.”
The real tragedy? That “other lifetime” was her *only* one. And she spent all of it in the shadow of someone else’s happiness.
