Your Parents Accidentally Taught You to Ignore Your Own Voice
I need to talk to you about something most parents don't want to hear.
You are probably — without realizing it, without meaning to, with nothing but love in your heart — teaching your child to stop trusting themselves.
The Great Misunderstanding
Here's how it works.
Your child develops a strong want. They're obsessed with drawing. They can't stop talking about gaming. They want a drum set so badly they bring it up every single day until you want to scream.
And you — because every parenting book, every school counselor, every well-meaning relative has taught you this — say some version of the following:
"Stop wanting so much."
"Be realistic."
"Focus on school first."
"You'll get bored of it in a week."
"We're not spending money on something you'll quit."
You think you're teaching discipline. You think you're teaching gratitude. You think you're preventing your child from becoming spoiled.
What you're actually teaching them is this: The voice inside you that says "I need this" — don't listen to it.
That voice is their pearl. And you just told them to shut it up.
I Watched It Happen
Tyler was sixteen when his father Frank brought him to my office. Earbuds in. Eyes on his phone. Barely speaking.
Frank sat across from me trying to figure out where things went wrong. "He used to be so full of life," he said. "He played guitar, drew these incredible sketches, talked about wanting to design video games. Now he just... exists."
I asked when he last saw Tyler truly come alive.
"Maybe two years ago? He was working on this animation project, stayed up all night, couldn't stop talking about it. But then school got harder, we pushed him toward practical subjects, and..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
"You watched his fire go out," I said.
Frank's eyes got watery. "Is that what happened? We killed his passion?"
"Not killed," I told him. "Buried. There's a difference. Fire that's been smothered can be relit — but only if we understand what put it out in the first place."
What the Typical Parent Gets Wrong
The typical parent hears a child's intense want and sees danger. They see entitlement forming. They see a kid who will become spoiled, lazy, demanding.
So they do what they were taught: suppress the want. Redirect toward "important" things. Make the child earn the want through tasks that have nothing to do with the want itself — clean your room, get your grades up, finish your chores, THEN we'll talk about your little hobby.
By the time the child jumps through every hoop, the fire is cold. The want is gone. The parent thinks they won. They think they taught discipline.
They taught obedience. That's not the same thing.
What they didn't realize is that those strong wants aren't random. They aren't entitlement. They aren't the enemy.
Those wants are a compass. They're pointing directly at the child's biggest gifts — their talents, their purpose, the thing they were put here to do. Every time a child says "I NEED this," their pearl is speaking. It's showing them where to go.
And the typical parent says "stop wanting so much" — which translates, in the child's soul, to who you are doesn't matter.
What Happened to Tyler
Three months after that first session, I barely recognized the family that walked into my office.
Tyler was talking. Not just answering questions — actually talking. About a game he was designing. About a YouTube channel he'd started. About collaborating with kids from school who'd seen his work.
Frank sat back, smiling, letting his son take up space.
"We got him a drawing tablet," Frank said. "And signed him up for a digital art course. I thought it would be expensive. Turns out it was cheaper than the tutors we were paying to force him through subjects he hated."
"And his grades?" I asked.
Tyler laughed. "They're actually better. I don't know why. I just... care more now. About everything."
I knew why. When you feed someone's pearl, you don't just grow their talent — you grow their whole sense of self. Tyler wasn't more motivated because his parents bribed him or threatened him. He was more motivated because he finally felt like himself again.
The fire wasn't just relit. It was protected. And now it was spreading to everything he touched.
The Sentence That Changes Everything
When your child comes to you burning with a want, you have a choice.
You can say "stop wanting so much" — and watch the light dim a little more each time.
Or you can say something different. Something that honors the pearl instead of burying it:
"Let's find a smart way to get what you want."
That sentence doesn't mean you hand them everything. It doesn't mean there are no standards. It means you take the want seriously. You help them build a path to it. You invest in the fire instead of smothering it.
When parents in my office hear this for the first time — when they realize they've been accidentally teaching their child not to trust their own voice — some of them cry. Not because they're bad parents. Because they love their child and they didn't know.
Now you know.
Your child's pearl is talking every day. The wants, the obsessions, the thing they can't stop thinking about — that's not a problem to manage. That's a gift to follow.
The 4 LAWS of Trust and Talent teach families how to follow it — together. The Law of Talent says your family invests in what you love. Not after you earn it through unrelated suffering. Now. Because the fire is burning now, and it won't wait.
Dr. Eduardo M. Bustamante is a Licensed Clinical Psychologist (MA PSY3644) with 35+ years of experience specializing in children's behavioral health. He is the creator of the 4 LAWS of Trust and Talent and founder of 4 LAWS Academy. Learn more at 4lawsacademy.com.