Parents and family

How Controlling Parents Train You to Ruin Every Good Thing in Life

By Asha Jacob, anxiety coach for professionals · 330+ clients worldwide · October 2026

A while ago I read a news story that made my stomach drop. A 69-year-old man was struggling to single-handedly raise his 14-year-old son, who has special needs.

He'd been an engineer and a workaholic who even took night classes to upgrade his skills. He loved his work and had never been interested in marriage. Then, at 53, at his mother's insistence, he married a 26-year-old woman within weeks of meeting her. Their son was born needing round-the-clock care. A few years later they divorced, and he had to give up his job and live on welfare to care for his son, while dealing with cancer himself.

If you're like me, you're wondering how a 53-year-old engineer with a successful career ends up complying with his mother like that. The answer is that controlling parents use a specific method to train you from a young age, and it leaves you open to their control for the rest of your life. In this article I'll show you what that method is, how it reaches into every part of your life, and how to spot it while it's happening, so you know you're not overreacting.

The elephant and the rope

Controlling parents don't target your logic. They target something much deeper, using the same method circus trainers once used on elephants.

Picture a 10,000-pound elephant, strong enough to demolish the whole circus, held in place by a thin rope. Why doesn't it break free? Because when it was small, trainers tied it with that same rope, and every time it tried to escape, it couldn't. Now it could snap the rope without noticing, but it doesn't even try. What holds it back is its belief about the rope.

Controlling parents don't simply train you to obey them. They train you to believe you can't disobey them. They tie a little rope around you that says: you're small, you're weak, you're powerless, don't even think about going against me, because you'll lose. The 53-year-old engineer wasn't being controlled by his mother's words. He was being controlled by decades of reinforcement of that rope.

The two trainers

The most damaging part of this method is how, as the elephant grows, it's constantly reminded of its powerlessness. Two trainers do this.

It sounds counterintuitive, but most of the damage comes from the second trainer. Because they stand by and watch, and comfort the elephant only once it's over, the elephant learns one thing: if someone who loves me won't protect me, maybe I deserve to be hurt.

That's how it plays out with controlling parents. There's the openly angry, abusive parent who shames you, calls you names and hurts you, and when they're home you feel a sinking pit in your stomach and want to shrink. And there's the parent who silently watches. They never step in, but they bandage your wounds afterwards, tell you they love you, promise it'll get better, and tell you to listen next time so it doesn't happen again. What's really happening is a deep emotional manipulation that confirms to your subconscious that you're powerless, and that this chaos is what love looks like.

For some of us, both trainers are the same parent, switching between the two extremes: breaking you down until you don't know who you are, then turning warm and supportive and offering the slivers of love and attention any child desperately needs.

How the first trainer still controls you

This training doesn't stop when you move out. These two trainers keep whispering in your ear as an adult, and if you don't know what to look for, you can spend decades giving in to their control in every area of your life.

The first parent is easier to spot, because their tactics haven't really changed since you were a child. They still criticize and put you down, just with more sophisticated language.

• When you share good news, they deflate it: "If you could do it, I guess it wasn't that hard." Or, "Your cousin did a lot better."
• When you make a mistake, they blow it up: "You just don't know how to do anything right."
• When you set a boundary, they remind you of your place: "Remember who you're talking to."

This parent wants you to feel small and stupid and grateful for any crumb of approval. So you doubt every accomplishment, idea and opinion, and you hold yourself so small that you get overlooked. If you believe you're small, everyone else starts to think so too. Without any direct access to your professional life, this parent ends up controlling how you show up in it.

How the second trainer controls you

The second parent is arguably far more painful, and they break your heart every time. When you don't listen to them, or call out behavior that hurts you, they don't get angry. They get hurt. "How can you say that to me after everything I've done for you? I can't believe you're being so ungrateful." They slip into victim mode, as if you're one of the worst people who ever lived.

So you come to believe that, at your core, you hurt the people you love. You make yourself as small as possible. You don't speak up in conflict, you say you're fine when you're not, and you try to be convenient to everyone because you don't know what it means to be yourself.

Both parents make you feel like a bad person, but in different ways. The first causes so much fear that you shut down and build walls. The second is sweet and comforting, so you keep your guard down around them, and when they flip the script and make you the villain, it cuts straight to your core. You leave the first feeling beaten down. You leave the second feeling like someone you trusted just ripped your heart out.

Now imagine what happens when they aim at a specific part of your life: your job, your partner, how you talk, how you think. "Your life is worth nothing without a wife and kids." "You're an ungrateful disappointment if you don't give us grandchildren." It doesn't matter how successful and independent you are. You crumble inside.

How to spot it while it's happening

The next time a chaotic conversation with your parents leaves you feeling awful, use that feeling as a signal that they're actively trying to control you. Watch for moments when:

• they make a huge fuss and want something done their way, without letting you get a word in;
• when you do speak, they twist your words so you sound unreasonable or disrespectful;
• they push for as much information about your life as possible, "because family should share everything", in order to keep tabs on you.

You know the feeling. Your chest tightens, you tense up all over, and you shut down emotionally for days after talking to them. That isn't you overreacting, and it doesn't make you a bad person, however much they frame it that way. It's your body telling you they're using their tactics on you.

Your sensitivity is an asset

You already notice what other people miss: the tension in someone's voice, the way they say one thing and mean another. Most people tell you you're overreacting or reading too much into it, and treat it as a weakness. Don't let them convince you. You're noticing what they don't. That same sensitivity is what lets you form truly deep relationships and make people feel seen in a way few others can.

This work isn't for everyone. It asks you to be honest about how deep the control goes, curious about your own patterns, and willing to disappoint people who have benefited from your silence. But if you're tired of making everyone comfortable while you disappear, it's possible to cut that rope and find out who you are underneath it.