No Child is Born to Be an Extension of Their Parent’s Will

 Before I get into this, I want to acknowledge that while I’ve personally noticed these dynamics mainly from mother figures—because of my own experiences with maternal dysfunction—I recognize that this isn’t limited to just mothers or mother figures. These same controlling, spiritually stifling behaviors can play out in different ways within other family systems, where in many cases, it’s the father who is the main enforcer of rigid religious control, suppressing his children’s autonomy through dominance, fear, or manipulation. And in other families, both parents operate under the stronghold of an overbearing or overzealous religious spirit, creating an environment where questioning, independent thought, and spiritual sovereignty are seen as threats rather than a natural part of a child’s growth. And although the specifics may vary in these family systems, the underlying dynamic remains the same, which is a refusal to allow their child to develop their own connection to their inner truth, to think and discern for themselves, and to evolve beyond the narrow frameworks imposed upon them. So, remember, what I’m speaking on comes from my own personal experiences, but I know that others may relate to things from different angles within their own families. So, here we go!

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One of the observations that I’ve made over the years about overzealous or just deeply unhealed religious or spiritual mother figures is that their devotion is often not rooted in genuine faith or enlightenment, but in needing to have control over others, especially over their own children. With these unhealed mother figures, they don’t seek to guide their children toward a connection with the divine that is authentic and personal to them as beings with their own spiritual sovereignty—these mothers seek to dictate it, ensuring that their children never develop the ability to think, feel, or discern for themselves outside of the mother’s approved framework. This isn’t about spiritual wisdom or what’s actually the best thing for her children; it’s about having ownership over them because these women see their children as extensions of themselves, rather than as sovereign individuals with their own spiritual paths to walk. And because of this, they don’t nurture their children’s growth—they stunt it, suffocating any sense of autonomy or self-discovery in the name of obedience, where this desperate grip on control only creates distance between mother and child, where what ends up happening is that their children eventually recognize the manipulation and break free, leaving the mother to lament a “betrayal” that she, herself, orchestrated.

And yet, despite orchestrating the very conditions that pushed their children away, these mothers refuse to take accountability for the consequences of their actions, and instead of reflecting on how their need for control created the rupture between them and their own children, they cling even tighter to their self-righteous narrative, unable to see that it was their own behavior—not their child’s choices—that led to the inevitable distance. So, rather than recognizing this, they continue to push their children away by refusing to honor their child’s spiritual sovereignty, instead choosing to diminish it in an attempt to maintain control, and rather than allowing their children to develop their own mental, emotional, and spiritual autonomy, they continue to impose their rigid beliefs, shame their children’s independent thought, and attempt to stunt their children’s natural growth as a human being—all under the guise of “guidance” or “protection.” But in reality, it’s about having power over their children, and also about their own inability to face their fears and insecurities as a mother, so they project them onto their children, demanding conformity at the cost of authentic spiritual evolution and an actual connection with their children. And when their children inevitably pull away—choosing their own path, their own truth, and their own healing—the mother plays the victim, as if she did nothing to create the distance, where she then cries about being abandoned while refusing to acknowledge that it was her own controlling nature, and her own refusal to let her children be their own person that drove them away in the first place.

But rather than confronting this reality, these mothers reshape the narrative in a way that absolves them of any wrongdoing, making their control even more insidious by framing it as love. Because in their minds, this love should be met with gratitude—as they expect their children to be thankful for the very oppression that stifled their growth—where they, the overzealous and deeply unhealed mothers, demand complete obedience and unwavering loyalty as proof of their devotion to her. And if her children dare to question her authority, resist her control, or set boundaries around her behavior as a mother, they are met with guilt trips, manipulation, and accusations of being rebellious or ungrateful. So, being deeply unhealed, overzealous, and blinded by their own need for control, the mother refuses to recognize that she is not a guide—she is a gatekeeper, standing between her child and their own spiritual evolution, all because she cannot handle the idea of them growing beyond her control. Instead, she mistakes dominance for love, assuming that if she does not dictate her child’s path, they will be lost. But the truth is, the only thing the children are being lost to is themselves—the version of themselves they were always meant to be, outside of her interference.

So, rather than recognizing this, the mother clings even harder to her illusion of righteousness, and when the child finally walks away or pulls away from her—choosing self-respect, peace, and their own truth over her suffocating control—the mother plays the victim, painting herself as the one who has been wronged. And instead of acknowledging her role in the fallout, she tells others that her child has turned against her, that they have been deceived or led astray, where she rewrites the story to make herself the wounded party, conveniently leaving out the years of manipulation, the countless times she dismissed her child’s individuality, and the ways in which she demanded submission rather than fostering real connection with her own children. Thus, when it comes to these types of mothers, it’s not about having actual love for their children; it’s about having power over their children, where they expect their children to be unconditionally devoted to them, all despite their toxicity and the deeply harmful impact that they have had on their children, where they as mothers corrupt the very essence of what it means to love and to be loved, twisting it into an obligation where their children must prove their loyalty by enduring their mistreatment and denying their own needs. But true love for their children does not demand ownership over their minds, their choices, or their spiritual paths. True love allows space for their children’s growth, transformation, and independence outside of their control. And mothers who weaponize love as a means of control will always end up alone, wondering why the very children they claimed to cherish had no choice but to leave them behind, or to at least set some very strong boundaries with her, so that when they interact with her, they do so from a place of distance, self-protection, and emotional detachment—no longer allowing her to dictate their lives or to hold any power over them.

But hope is not always completely lost for the mothers who can repent of their controlling behavior and for the deep psychological and spiritual crimes they have committed—and that may still be committing—against their own children. True repentance, however, requires more than just empty apologies or performative remorse—it demands genuine self-awareness, accountability, and a willingness to dismantle the patterns of manipulation and dominance that they once enforced over their own children, the very same children they supposedly said they loved. It also means acknowledging the harm that they have inflicted without justification or excuse, recognizing that their desire for control was never about love for their children but about fear, insecurity, and an unwillingness to allow their children the freedom to become their own people. And it also requires them to surrender their need for dominance and to accept that their children owe them nothing—not their obedience, not their forgiveness, and certainly not a continued presence in their lives. So, it is only when they truly release their grip on power as a mother and make space for their children’s autonomy can there be any hope for real reconciliation between mother and child.

But even if a mother reaches this point of genuine repentance, healing is not something she can force or expect from the very children she wounded, manipulated, and emotionally suffocated. Because for a mother to truly repair the damage, she must relinquish her need to dictate her children’s beliefs, to guilt them into submission, or to impose her control over their lives, and instead she must learn to honor her children’s autonomy—not just in words, but also in action. This also means that she must accept that her children owe her nothing, that any reconnection must be on the children’s terms, and that the trust between parent and child, once broken, is not easily restored. And even then, reconciliation is never guaranteed, because some wounds run too deep, some betrayals are too severe, and some children, for their own well-being, may never return. Or if they don’t leave her life completely, they may never soften their boundaries around their mother, all in order to prevent further harm, manipulation, or emotional enmeshment from happening to them. But in either scenario, when that happens, the mother is left to face the reality of what her choices have created with her own children, which are the irreversible distance, the fractured trust, and the deep emotional scars that no amount of her revisionist storytelling can undo, where this is the price of her weaponized control—a control that, in her own woundedness as a mother, she mistakenly believed was love. Furthermore, it is also a consequence that she can no longer manipulate her way out of, as her children reclaim the autonomy she once sought to suppress. But for those rare mothers who can face themselves honestly, who can release their grip on power and embrace humility, there is a chance—however small—that what was broken may one day find healing. But that healing is no longer up to them to demand. It is something that their children alone have the right to decide will happen.

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Afterthought

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This pattern of control is not limited to religious or spiritual mother and father figures. While my observations have largely stemmed from specific dynamics in my own life, the underlying issue is far broader—it is about a parent’s desperate need for control over their child’s mind, emotions, and personal growth. And in many families, this need for dominance manifests in secular or non-religious ways, where a parent’s sense of authority is placed above the child’s right to individuality. But whether it is a mother or father who demands absolute loyalty, enforces rigid expectations, or shames their children for thinking differently, the result is the same—the child’s autonomy is systematically eroded, where this is not about guiding a child toward maturity; it is about keeping them trapped in a version of themselves that serves the parent’s ego, fears, and insecurities rather than allowing them to grow into their own person.

This means that in families where control is the foundation of the relationship, there doesn’t need to be a religious or spiritual justification to create the same psychological stranglehold. Some parents use tradition, family loyalty, or cultural expectations as the means to enforce obedience, while other family systems manipulate through financial control, guilt, or the ever-present threat of withdrawal of love and approval, creating an overall suffocating environment where the child is expected to conform, to prioritize the parent’s wishes over their own well-being, and to remain psychologically and emotionally subordinate no matter their age. And when they resist, even in adulthood, they are met with the same accusations of betrayal, disrespect, or selfishness that are often seen in religiously oppressive households, where it is not the belief system itself that is the issue per se, but rather the entitlement that certain parents feel toward the minds and souls of their children.

So, what the problem really is—is the expectation of unconditional devotion towards parental units—despite their toxicity and the harm they are causing—which is something that can show up in any family structure. And rather than fostering genuine connection with their children, some parents demand that their children sacrifice their own peace and happiness just to maintain a false sense of unity with their overzealous and controlling nature, insisting that “family is everything” all the while refusing to acknowledge the damage they have caused to their own children—while in other family systems, they make their children feel indebted, as if existing as their child means a lifelong obligation to meet their needs first, at the expense of their own personal development and overall well-being. But rather than fostering a healthy parent-child relationship, they operate from a sense of ownership over their child’s life and choices, which is no different from the religious mother who weaponizes her faith and sense of righteousness to keep her children under her control, which is just another form of the same dysfunctional dynamic. And so, whether it is justified through faith, cultural norms, or a personal sense of entitlement, the underlying truth remains: no child is born to be an extension of their parent’s will, and no child should be expected to abandon their own journey to appease a parent who refuses to let go of the need to dictate their child’s thoughts, choices, identity, and personal growth journey.

With all of that said, at the end of the day, not to assume that all parents operate from a place of control or toxicity, or that anyone thinks these dynamics don’t exist across multiple cultural, social, or familial structures, but understanding that this pattern of control extends beyond religious or spiritual households is crucial in recognizing the broader issue at hand of why some children eventually walk away or implement firm boundaries with their parents. And that no matter what background they come from or what belief system their family adheres to, a child choosing to set boundaries or to walk away from a toxic parent is not about rebellion or ingratitude; it is about survival, where for the child, it is about reclaiming the freedom to think, feel, and exist without being under someone else’s psychological rule. And any parent—religious or not—who refuses to acknowledge this reality will ultimately find themselves alone, wondering why their children chose their autonomy over forced allegiance. Because at the core of all of this—regardless of the belief system or the values system that a family upholds—one thing remains true: parental love that is real does not exert absolute control, it does not demand complete submission, and it does not insist that their children give up their own mental, emotional, and spiritual autonomy and sovereignty just to maintain the illusion of harmony, especially with parents who refuse to acknowledge their own harmful behaviors—the impact they have had—and the impact they may still continue to have—on their children.