Your Child Is Dying Inside — And You Might Be the Reason

Some kids are like underground rivers — all the power flowing beneath the surface, invisible until something cracks and everything erupts.

Joey was one of those kids.

I first met him when he was ten. His older brother was my client, and Joey would sit in on sessions, focused on his video games while we talked. Quiet but determined. Creative. He'd build elaborate stories around the games he played.

He was doing well.

At sixteen, he was barely alive.

The change wasn't dramatic — and those are often the most dangerous kinds. It was a slow dimming, like a light bulb gradually losing power until you realize you're sitting in darkness.

What Happened to Joey

He was using the high school restroom when three gang members walked in.

A switchblade appeared. Pressed against his throat. Hands pinned him to the wall.

"Do you want to live?"

The question wasn't rhetorical. The blade pressed deeper.

"If you say anything about this to anyone, we know where to find you. We know where you live. We know your family."

What followed was fifteen minutes of humiliation designed to break his spirit and guarantee his silence.

He endured it all and escaped with his life.

But something inside him went into deep hiding.

The Home That Couldn't Heal

Here's where the story takes a turn that most typical parents won't expect.

If Joey's family had been operating with all four laws in place, his healing might have been swift. Safety would have been demanded at school. His trauma would have been honored. He would have found ways to regain power. His creative energy would have stayed alive during recovery.

But one law was missing — the Law of Responsibility. Specifically, authority transfer.

Joey's mother was a devoted parent who carried a huge load and dropped everything to get her kids what they needed. She had a special-needs child who required extra care, and she fought for every one of her children — tooth and nail. The reason Joey got placed in a different school at all was because of her valor and dedication. She advocated, she pushed, she made it happen.

But she was also firm. When she said no, she meant no. She held the line the way any good parent would. She just didn't know the 4 LAWS existed — so she couldn't see that her son needed something she hadn't been taught to give: ownership over his own choices.

So Joey faced three impossible challenges at once: gang threats at school that shattered his safety, traumatic stress from the attack that sent his creative spirit into hiding, and no voice in his own life — no ownership, no say in what came next.

The first two we could potentially address. The third one was slowly killing him.

The Slow Death

Joey was lifeless. His Pearl had shut down. He'd been traumatized and he couldn't replace what he lost. Video games became an escape — a place where he had control, where he could feel powerful, where nothing could reach him.

But his parents saw this as manipulation.

"He becomes a crybaby when he doesn't get what he wants. He's been like that since he was a baby."

His mother fought to get him into a new school — and she succeeded. But it wasn't the one he wanted. The school he wanted would have given him everything the four laws require: safety from gangs, belonging with peers, resources for his talents, and a say in his own direction.

She made a good call getting him out. She just couldn't see that he also needed to be part of the decision.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

By the time Joey turned eighteen, I had to speak directly to his soul.

"Joey, you're eighteen now. You're as important as anyone in your family, including your parents. You have the right to pursue your interests and go where you want to go. No wonder you sound so dead inside. At some point, you have to claim your fundamental rights."

Silence stretched between us. I could see him processing this foreign concept — that he had rights.

"You don't know my parents," he finally said, barely above a whisper. "They're super strict. They know how to make you feel bad."

Then he began imitating his mother's voice with painful accuracy:

"After all we have sacrificed to give you a good life, and this is how you repay us? Breaking our house rules? What happens if you do something stupid out there and get mixed up with the wrong people? You think that doesn't affect this whole family?"

His voice grew stronger:

"Do you know how hard we work to keep this house together? And you don't care? You stop feeling sorry for yourself and go to school and make something of yourself — because I didn't raise any losers."

When he finished, the silence was deafening.

"Wow," I said quietly. "That's a lot of pressure. I can see why you feel trapped."

The Hard Truth

"I've known your mother since you were ten, Joey. I've worked with her to help you. She's very responsible and she loves you deeply. But she doesn't believe in you. She thinks you're incompetent to make your own decisions — that you'll just eat candy and watch cartoons all night."

I leaned forward.

"Right now you're so lost in guilt that your Pearl is on standby at the morgue. Do you think your parents are going to disown you if you claim your fundamental rights to find belonging and creative expression?"

"It's hard enough to find your Pearl with support. It's twice as hard when the people you love are unintentionally getting in your way. But you still have to do it, or you'll be a deadened puppet to them during your most important formative years."

"What's it going to be, Joey? Are you going to claim your rights to feel safe, earn what you want, find where you belong, and choose your own path? Or are you going to let someone else's plan for your life kill your Pearl completely?"

Then I gave him the challenge: "Can you please grab your voice and speak these words respectfully as an equal?"

The Magic Words

The next session, everything had changed. Joey's voice carried energy I hadn't heard in years — joyful, alive, proud.

"I told them exactly what you said to say."

"What were your exact words?"

"I said: 'Listen, I know you've done a lot for me, and I appreciate that. As I mature, I want to help you as I get stronger and you get older. But it's my time to make my decisions, and you don't have the right to tell me where I can go or what I can do or who I want to see.'"

He paused, grinning.

"'You can do what you want to go against me, but I'm still going to do it anyway. I'm happy to have you guys tell me your opinions, and I know you want the best for me, so I'll listen. But I have to live with my decisions. That's not against you, and it's not going to change.'"

"What happened?"

His grin widened into pure joy.

"It was like they were waiting for me to say that. They just agreed with me and hugged me. They said they were sorry."

What This Means for You

Here's the part that matters for every typical parent reading this: Joey's mother was a great parent. A devoted one. She carried a massive load, fought for her children, and loved them with everything she had. She just didn't know that at some point, her son needed to own his own decisions — and that holding the line, no matter how loving, was the one thing keeping him from coming back to life.

That's the Law of Responsibility. At some point, it's not your problem anymore. It's theirs. And they need you to let it be theirs.

The beautiful part? When Joey finally spoke up, his parents didn't fight him. They hugged him. They said they were sorry. They were waiting for him to claim his voice.

Joey now has a girlfriend and strong interests in coding and engineering, following his older brother's successful path. He's still discovering his full potential — but now he's doing it his way.

That's what happens when you identify the missing law and fix it.

The 4 LAWS of Trust and Talent protect four fundamental human needs: Safety, Possession, Belonging, and Creation. When one goes missing, the system breaks — no matter how much love is in the home.

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Dr. Eduardo M. Bustamante is a Licensed Clinical Psychologist with over 35 years of experience. He is the creator of the 4 LAWS framework and author of "The 4 LAWS of Trust and Talent." Learn more at 4lawsacademy.com.