I was raised by two people who grew up in very difficult circumstances. They had not been treated kindly as children, and they were both pretty emotionally distant as a result. They used their words sparingly when it came to expressing their feelings about anything.

What that meant for me

That played out in my childhood as a bit of a detective game. Since I almost never heard that I was loved or valued, I had to try to find evidence that those things were true (because I, like all kids, needed it to be true). With my mom, I discovered somewhere along the way that when she talked about me to others, she sometimes said the things I craved… that she was proud of me, that I was good enough, that I was important.

But mostly, what she said to me was how I needed to try harder and do more. I was a perpetual font of untapped potential (i.e., a disappointment).

My dad did tell me on about three occasions that he really loved me—and even cried a little when he said it… one time. But mostly, what he said to me about our relationship was that I didn’t have to feel obligated to come visit him if I didn’t want to. He didn’t even invite me to the wedding when he married his second wife. He figured I wouldn’t want to come, and I guess it never occurred to him that it might hurt my feelings if he were wrong.

All this left me in a continual state of confusion. If they loved me—like they said on occasion—why did they do this? Or that? Those questions haunted me until they both died. I always thought I’d figure out a way to get them to say the things I’d longed to hear. But it never happened.

The price of those missing words

As an adult, I struggle myself with finding the words to tell people how I feel about them. It doesn’t feel natural, because it was not what I experienced when I was learning how to communicate. And it bothers me because I know how much I want to hear those things myself, so I wish I was better able to open up to others. It’s a work in progress for me.

And that brings me to my point. You don’t want to raise kids who are emotionally distant like me. Trust me, you don’t… if you want them to be happy. Emotional distance keeps you safe from the bad stuff but also keeps out all the good stuff—so life goes by while you hide your heart inside a little self-made fortress. And you spend years trying to figure out how to put down the drawbridge and go out into the world to really feel things.

Practice makes perfect

So if you have kids, how could you keep them from becoming emotionally distant?

By showing them how to be open.

By hugging them. Spending time with them. Really listening to them. Taking an interest in their lives.

Let them hear the words—they deserve to hear the good stuff, even if it’s as hard for you as it is for me.

Tell them you’re proud of who they are. Tell them you love them more than words could ever express. Tell them they are the best, most-important part of your life. Tell them you admire them and find them interesting. Tell them how amazing they are. Tell them you are grateful to have them in your life.

And tell them often.