Let it go

If I could give advice to my teenage self, I would tell him not to waste so much energy arguing with his father.

When I was a young man, I let things my father said get under my skin. I pushed back, argued, and tried to prove my point, like winning the argument somehow meant I was right about life. Looking back now, most of those arguments didn’t matter. They didn’t change anything, and they certainly weren’t worth the tension they created.

What I didn’t understand then is that parents don’t come with a manual. Most of them are just doing the best they can with what they know at the time. They’re raising kids while trying to build a life, pay bills, handle stress, and figure things out themselves. Sometimes they say the wrong thing. Sometimes they’re too hard. Sometimes they think they’re being strong when they’re really being harsh. But they’re human, just like everyone else.

When you’re young, it’s easy to see your parents as the authority you have to push against. What’s harder is seeing them as people — imperfect people who are learning as they go. That perspective usually comes later in life, and by then a lot of words have already been said that can’t be taken back.

I would tell my teenage self that being right isn’t nearly as important as preserving the relationship. You don’t have to agree with everything your parents say. You don’t even have to like everything they do. But constant fighting leaves marks that last a long time, and some of those marks turn into regret.

One of the deepest regrets a person can carry is not reconciling with a parent before they pass away. Death has a way of ending arguments whether you’re ready or not. Once that door closes, there are no more chances to talk things through, no more chances to forgive, and no more chances to say the things you thought you had time to say.

Life doesn’t offer rewrites. You don’t get to go back and unsay something from thirty years earlier.

I would tell that young version of me to pick his battles more carefully and let the small things go. Not every disagreement needs to turn into a fight. Sometimes the wiser move is to listen, nod, and move on. Time has a way of putting things into perspective, and a lot of what feels important at twenty turns out to be trivial at sixty-nine.

I’d tell him that some parents live long enough to realize the mistakes they made. Some even have the humility to apologize. When that happens, accept it. Don’t hold on to anger just to prove a point, because anger doesn’t punish the other person nearly as much as it punishes you.

Not every parent deserves reconciliation, but many do. Most weren’t cruel — they were flawed. And flawed people sometimes deserve grace.

If I could sit down with my teenage self, the simplest advice I would give is this:

Don’t let pride keep you from peace. One day you will wish you had chosen peace sooner.