It was decided from the moment we were born. Like blue for a boy and pink for a girl. Universal colors that, in the mid-20th century, the market decided should be the norm, and it's become such a widely accepted social rule that if a boy wears pink, his sexual orientation is immediately questioned.
At the celebration of our first achievement, they cried and thought, "Imagine how I'll cry on their wedding day." We went to school for thirteen or fourteen years. We stayed up all night to get into our dream universities. We made it, dreaming of becoming doctors, lawyers, or architects—professions that would make us and our parents proud.
If there's one thing you learn at university, it's to question things. For some, the life they dreamed of as children is the same one they achieved as adults, but many along the way begin to lose interest in what they were passionate about back then. It becomes something black and white. The university they got into, the career they aspire to, or even a relationship they're in—is it really their dream…or their parents'?
This is one of the most painful realities. Knowing you don't want something you're fighting for and continuing to try to make the people who have given you so much happy. Parents' intentions stem from love. Perhaps many couldn't meet many of the "normal" expectations and expect the same from their children. Knowing all the sacrifices they've made makes it even harder.
For parents, their child having a stable job for 30 years, a secure salary, a good retirement, their own house, a marriage, and children is the dream life. Yes, everything that seems impossible to achieve in the 21st century, tangible or intangible. What happens when that's not what the child wants? Then the uncomfortable questions and evasive answers begin.
This is one of the most difficult and necessary conversations in life. The silence is self-justifying and self-destructive. The topic is avoided so as not to disappoint or hurt the parents. But that silence weighs heavily. It prevents a person from moving forward. It hurts deeply, too. Loving and disappointing cease to be separate things. And at some point, a choice must be made about whom to disappoint: them, or oneself.