Keep your misery to yourself. Children deserve parents who shield them from the full force of adult suffering
Aidan was supposed to tidy up the house after school. But when his mother got home from a long day at work, she found her son sprawled on the couch, watching TV and eating tortilla chips while the place was still a disaster zone, the floor covered with crumbs and driblets of yellow gooey stuff that might be cheese spread. She lost it.
“Aidan, you were supposed to pick up the house, but all you've done is made a bigger mess.”
“What? Why are you yelling at me?”
“I can't believe you. Look at this room. You don't give a crap about this house or anything I say. Do you understand what this does to me? You don't understand at all how much I sacrifice for you. I get no help from you or your stupid father. I'm under pressure all the time at a job I hate. I constantly have to worry about money. I don't have time for anything. What kind of life do I have? And I come home to this? It's so unfair.”
How much of your own personal suffering is it appropriate to share with your teenager?