In relationships, especially within families, a simple “no” often becomes something far heavier than it is.

When someone says no to our request, we unconsciously hear:
“No to me.”
Not no to the request, not no to the situation, but no to my worth, my importance, my place in your life.

This misunderstanding has quietly complicated many of my relationships—until two deeply personal experiences forced me to pause and reflect.

A Son Growing Into Himself

My son is stepping into adulthood, and recently I noticed a change in him.
To me, it felt like distance. To him, it was dignity.

One day, he said something that stayed with me:

“I feel uncomfortable asking you for money. Many times you say I am spending too much. I have my self-respect. I feel I should earn for my basic needs.”

I was surprised—almost shaken.

Not because he wanted to earn, but because he felt asking me was somehow diminishing himself.

This reaction came from a place I never had to experience at his age. I grew up in a different time, with different parenting, and perhaps more unspoken assumptions. My immediate response was emotional. I felt disconnected. I felt troubled. I wondered—where did I fail?

The Mirror of My Parents

As I reflected, my parents came to mind.

When they grew older and could no longer earn, they rarely asked us for money—especially my mother. She believed asking was disrespectful. She expected us to understand their needs and offer support without being asked.

I remember questioning her once:

“Why don’t you ask when you need money?”

Her response was simple, but powerful. Asking felt like a loss of dignity.

And suddenly, I saw the same emotion expressed by my son—across generations, across roles.

Different circumstances.
Same inner voice.

A Realisation That Changed Everything

During a conversation with a trusted acquaintance, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks:

“We don’t suffer because of situations. We suffer because we overthink them.”

That was it.

When my son hears my no, it is not a no to him—it is a no to that particular need, at that particular moment.

When my mother didn’t ask for money and I didn’t offer, it was not her rejecting support—it was simply me not noticing.

Yet in both cases, we silently converted these moments into judgments about self-worth, respect, and love.

How We Turn Relationships Into Transactions

Somewhere along the way, we unknowingly started treating relationships like transactions:

• If I ask and you say no, I am less valued.

• If I depend on you, I lose my dignity.

• If I give too much, I will be taken for granted.

These thoughts introduce ego, expectation, and accounting into relationships that were never meant to carry such weight.

Especially between parents and children.

Should Self-Respect Exist in Parent–Child Relationships?

This is a difficult question.

Self-respect is essential in life—but does it need to sit between parents and children?

I personally feel that the parent–child bond is meant to be unconditional, not contractual. When ego enters this space, love begins to negotiate instead of flow.

A child should not feel smaller for asking.
A parent should not feel judged for setting boundaries.
An aging parent should not feel invisible for not asking.
A grown child should not feel guilty for missing a signal.

None of this is rejection.
None of this is disrespect.

It is simply human imperfection meeting unspoken expectations.

The Cost of Overthinking Love

Many times in my life, when someone said no to my request, I carried it as a rejection of me. I replayed conversations. I added meanings that were never intended. I complicated my inner world—and with it, my relationships.

But the truth is simple:

A no is often just a response to a moment, not a verdict on a relationship.

When we stop personalising every response, life becomes lighter.
When we stop measuring love, it becomes deeper.

Choosing Simplicity Over Stories

Relationships suffer not because love is absent, but because stories multiply in silence.

What if we chose a different lens?

• What if a no was just a no?

• What if asking was not weakness?

• What if giving was not obligation?

• What if love didn’t need proof?

I am still learning. Still unlearning. Still observing myself as a parent, a son, and a human being.

But one thing is clear now:

We complicate life not because it is complex—but because we overthink love.

And perhaps the greatest gift we can offer our children—and our parents—is not money, not advice, not perfection—but presence without ego, and love without accounting.