As part of our Teens Empowerment Project this year, we invited our teen mentees to interview their parents on the topic of mental health. Talking about such sensitive topics as a family can be challenging. The aim of this project was to create an opportunity for our mentees to explore a different dynamic with their parents- one of emotional openness, vulnerability, mutual acceptance and support. As a mentor, I’m very proud of our teens for writing these articles which give us insight into the value of authentic communication between parents and children.
Katie Lai, a grade 12 international school student in Hongkong China, has previously written about her journey towards adulthood in her article “Inevitable Path to Freedom | Katie’s Story”. Through this project, I have gotten to know her as an insightful young woman with great awareness of self & others. Her sensitivity and capacity for introspection leads her to ask deep questions about the world within and around herself. Through initiating this conversation with her parents, she’s demonstrated the courage to remain open & curious while facing her fear of the unknown. Her reflection in this article illustrates the inner growth that can occur when embracing the potential of change.
Sharon Liu
CandleX Teens Mentor
Sep 2024
Katie Lai
G12 International School Student in Hongkong China
Aug 2024
Never had I considered plunging into the topic of mental health with my parents, and whether I genuinely wanted that information was an immediate afterthought. It struck me like a “would-you-rather” dilemma: Would you prefer half of an explanation or no explanation at all? To be perpetually loud or eternally silent? To embrace the whole truth or live comfortably in ignorance? More often than not, I’d choose the latter. For me, forging a deep personal connection wasn’t a spectrum but a chasm between extremes. For some reason, the possibility of gaining a new perspective from my parents, who are supposed to be the closest to me, scared me.
Sharing mental health issues, connecting through vulnerabilities, and being overtly expressional is encouraged more than ever in my community; it has become a communicative norm, like a door that remains open once it’s been unlocked. My loved ones, my best friends, my peers, and slowly but surely, my acquaintances, people I met for the first time, all started bringing emotional and mental well-being confessions to the table. As if revealing insecurities or deeply personal issues was a procedural requisite in order form a close bond with someone. But amidst quietly listening, and occasionally relating to their outpour of sensitive information, I can’t help but sit back and weigh up: do I really need, no actually…do I want to know that ‘side’ of them?
Unmasking another’s mental state holds profound power, beyond the impacts often highlighted on social media like reducing stigma or promoting openness. On a personal level, talking about mental health directly proffers invisible power to another. It is an extended directory of what she/he had previously experienced, felt, and basically how he/she as an individual is consequentially…constructed. It’s similar to uncovering a template that a person has been innately provided to craft upon; you can view their chronology of strokes, what colors they chose to include, their use of varied dimensions. Comparing all this to what you had anticipated ultimately allows you to conclude exhaustively upon who they really are. This power holds ambivalent valence- it’s satisfying and fulfilling to know that you’ve gained a deeper connection with someone, but what if this new perspective differs entirely from your understanding of someone who you thought you knew? Would everything stay the same or would the way you interact with them change?
Since I was taught proper manners and gratitude, I built a respectful relationship with my parents. They respected my space, and I, out of understanding, avoided confronting situations or information they purposely withheld from me. “Ignorance is bliss”; some things are just better off put away in the dark corner of the room simply because it wasn’t necessary to bring them to light. There was a mutual trust that my parents knew what was best for me to know (and not know), and conversely, I trusted that they also knew what was best for themselves.
Our family conversations often revolved around practicality, future plans, and nonchalant lightweight opinions: “Wanna grab dinner tomorrow?”, “What are your university plans? Got any yet?”, “The Olympic opening ceremony this year was bizarre!”. The topic of mental health only emerged in conversation at family functions in the form of a joke, or a reason as to why some kids were failing school, or when mentioning people committing suicide; it was about everyone else but ourselves. Yet, even without personal mental health issues explicitly being voiced out in the household, my parents still knew me best, and vice versa. Thus, the dilemma of whether there was a need to penetrate the rudimentary cast of staying outside of personal matters had me baffled. Again, the possibility of gaining a new perspective from my parents scared me. How would opening this door change our relationship? But ultimately, my curiosity defeated all doubts.
Approaching this topic with my parents required more self-reflection and planning than I initially anticipated; far more than what is needed for a casual informal interview. My Grandma recently passed away from old age, and being sensitive to the mental toll my parents were going through, I didn’t want to push anything. I was clueless about what I wanted to get out of the interview and only crafted a few general, conventionally mentioned mental health interview questions. Before I let conflicted thoughts of consideration cloud my brain any longer, I strode into my parent's room with my thin leaflet of prompts in hand and started the conversation off; I thought, let’s just see how it goes.
Seeing my parents relaxing on the sofa watching TV, I briefly introduced them to the interview and explained what it was for. “I thought we always talked about this, no?” my dad turned to face me. Perhaps this wasn’t necessary after all? Did they think I knew them better than to be asking such questions? Actually, maybe they got the wrong notion.
“No, not about mental health and psychology, I’m interviewing about you, about your mental health, dad.”
“Oh that stuff… it isn’t something we think about a lot now, we’re getting old. I’m glad you asked though. Come sit, let's talk.”
It turned out that, following my grandmother’s passing, my father had been reflecting deeply on death and the “ruthless brutality of nature”. He admitted that he had a hard time visualising that one day, he’ll also have to say his last goodbye. Absolutely stunned by my father’s candid disclosure, my mum felt encouraged to also share some of her recent personal struggles and reflections regarding her friendships. Reflecting on it now, I’m still amazed by how openly they spoke rather than following the prompts or providing an answer formally built upon a standard definition. It seemed like they were happier than ever to share their true thoughts & feelings with me. The interview transformed into a deep conversation that I hadn’t anticipated at all. As for the leaflet of prompts, I found it tucked underneath the cushion at the end of our discussion, completely forgotten. Walking out of my parents’ room, all my fears slowly dissipated, and I felt closer to them than ever.
Throughout our conversation, I also shared with them my baffling inner conflict; fears of things changing once deeply personal matters were to be surfaced, but also my desire in getting to know my parents better. Hearing that, my parents encouraged me to ask or speak up about things without worrying that it may change the invisible ‘template’ of our relationship, because there actually isn’t any; I should not set aside my questions and thoughts in the name of blissful ignorance. They have noticed that I became quite reserved these few years and thought that I was perhaps going through my teenage phase of exploration. But I was relieved to find that my parents turned out to be much more transparent with discussing sensitive issues. With all honesty, they explained that there’s nothing to fear of change, because nothing is forever stable and promised. And so, I thought; right, nothing is really promised, why must I restrict my actions on extremities?
After all, none of the fears I had imagined came to pass. I didn’t need to treat my parents any differently based on the new information I received, nor did they expect me to act on it in any particular way. Sometimes, we simply need an open ear as a form of release, without the expectation that anything must be done about it. Perhaps there are no clear-cut, yes-or-no, good-or-bad outcomes when it comes to deeply understanding someone and gaining new perspectives. And that ambiguity is precisely what makes the process so intriguing.
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