Your LGBTQ Child Can Feel the Difference Between Support and Correction Even When You Can't

In this episode, you will finally understand why otherwise loving parents look for someone to fix their child when they come out, and why your child can feel the difference between support and correction, even when you can't. Welcome to More Human, More Kind. I'm Heather Hester, author, speaker, and advocate for LGBTQ+ youth and the families who love them. This show is for the parent who's holding it together on the outside while inside your nervous system is bracing for impact. Here we tell the truth gently. We unlearn what fear has taught us, and we build the kind of internal safety that lets you lead with love instead of panic. You're not broken. You're human. Let's dive in. So you found the therapist, you made the appointment, you're doing the responsible thing. But what if the quiet hope underneath that decision, the one you haven't said out loud, is the very thing pushing your child away? Today we're talking about that fix reflex and why your child can feel the difference between support and correction, even when you can't. Welcome to More Human, More Kind. I'm Heather Hester, and in this episode today, you will discover why the instinct to fix your child's identity quietly damages the trust you're trying to protect, what your child actually hears when therapy is framed even subtly as correction, and what happens to your relationship if this pattern continues unchecked. So this episode today is for the parent who is trying. Your child has come out to you as gay or as transgender or as non-binary, and you are reading articles about this identity or about this orientation. You're asking questions, you're seeking guidance. You are doing so many things right. But somewhere along the way, a thought settled in the back of your mind, maybe quietly, maybe at 2 AM when your mind was spinning. Maybe a professional could help them figure this out. Or maybe it sounded more like, maybe someone can fix what's going on, or even Maybe someone can make this go away. And by this, I mean the orientation or identity your child just trusted you enough to share. The, "Mom, I'm gay." "Mom, I'm transgender." "Mom, I think that I might be bisexual." "Mom, I feel like I'm non-binary." So you found a therapist, then maybe another, then perhaps someone who specializes in adolescent development. And on the surface, it looks like you're doing the responsible thing. You're getting help. But underneath that decision might be a quieter hope, one you may not have fully admitted to yourself. Maybe someone will help them realize that this isn't who they really are. I want you to know that I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I'm saying it because naming it is the first step toward choosing something different. So let me ask you something. Do you remember when this hope first began to creep into your thoughts? Was it right after they came out to you? Or was it later? Maybe after dropping them off at school and watching them walk inside, wondering how the world would treat them now. Maybe your first thought was, "They just need to talk to someone." Or maybe you told your partner, "We should find someone who can help them sort this out." Maybe you said to their therapist, They're just really confused right now. You didn't mean harm. You meant support. But here's the truth. Your child can feel the difference between "I want to support you" and "I want to steer you back to where you came from," even when the words sound the same. Kids, especially kids who have just done something as brave and vulnerable as coming out are exquisitely attuned to the energy behind your actions. They may not have the language for it yet, but they feel it in their bones. So how does this play out in real life? Maybe you ask their therapist for updates, for details about what your child is saying in sessions. Of course, You can only do this if your child is under 18. Maybe you ask the therapist if they think your child is being influenced by friends or by social media or by something else entirely. Maybe you ask if this is something teenagers sometimes grow out of, or if it might be trauma-related. You're not even sure what trauma, but you read it on that one website that one time and Seemed worth asking. Maybe you've asked the therapist to gently challenge your child's identity. You didn't use that language, of course. You said something like, can you help them explore whether this is really them? And every one of those questions, every single one, comes from fear. Sit with that for a moment. Can you feel it even right now? That tightness in your chest, that urgency that something needs to be done. That's fear talking. And I understand fear. I have been there. Fear is one of the most powerful forces a parent can experience. But here's what your child hears when fear is driving the decisions. They hear, "There's something wrong with me." Even if you never say those words, they hear it in the appointments you schedule, in the therapists you switch, in the questions you ask when you think they aren't listening. They hear in the silence too, and the things you don't say, and the celebration that doesn't come, and the absence of, I'm proud of you for telling me. And here's what begins to happen. At first, your child cooperates. Remember, they're in their own process. They're figuring things out and they want to make you happy. Those two things are happening at the same time. They attend the sessions. They agree to switch therapists. They answer your questions. Inviting someone into your home to paint is a big deal. You want people you can trust. People who show up on time, respect your space. And do the job right the first time. That's exactly what we do at Hester Painting and Decorating. With over 58 years of experience and a commitment to true craftsmanship, we treat your home like it's our own, creating masterpieces one wall at a time. To schedule a consultation, go to go.heatherdecorating.com/mhmk That's go.heatherdecorating.com/mhmk. But as they hear your concerns or even sense your energy, even if you've never asked those questions in front of them, something shifts. They start giving shorter answers in therapy. They stop bringing things up. Voluntarily. They start telling the therapist what they think will make things easier. Half truths, half stories, guarded feelings. And eventually they stop trusting that the adults in the room actually see them. Because when a child believes the goal of therapy is to change who they are, therapy stops feeling safe. It stops being a place where they can figure out their own story. And it becomes another place where they have to perform, another place where they have to manage someone else's emotions. Think about that. Your child, your teenager is now managing your fear inside their therapy session. That's an enormous weight for a young person to carry. And this is where it begins to cost you too. You start feeling like nothing is working. You're paying for help. You are trying to do the right thing. You've rearranged schedules, spent money, done research, and yet The relationship feels more strained, not less. Your child seems more guarded, more distant, maybe even more irritable. You start wondering, "Why isn't this working? I'm doing everything I can." You may feel frustrated, angry, perhaps even at your wit's end. And underneath all of that, grief. A grief you may not have given yourself permission to name yet. Grief for the life you imagined for your child. Grief for the relationship you thought you'd have. Grief for the certainty you used to feel. That grief is real. And it deserves space. But, and this is really important, your child is not the right container for that grief. They cannot be the thing you're trying to fix and the person you're mourning at the same time. Because from their perspective, they haven't lost anything. They've found something. They've found themselves. And the gap between your grief and their discovery, that's where the disconnection lives. So let's take a moment and look down the road, not to scare you, but because you deserve to see where this path leads if nothing changes. So let's imagine a few years from now. Your child has figured out who they are. They've built confidence. They've found their people. But you weren't part of that process because they learned early on, maybe before they even had the words for it, that you were trying to steer the outcome and maybe even change it. So instead of bringing you along, including you in their joy, sharing their milestones with you. They built that certainty somewhere else with friends, with a partner, with a chosen family. You still have a relationship, but it's careful, curated, surface level. You hear the important parts of their life after decisions have already been made. You find out about the new job, the move, the relationship, but never before, never during. And you realize with heaviness that sits in your whole body, they don't not love me. They just don't trust me with who they really are. And that is deeply painful, and it doesn't have to be your story. So let's name the real issue, the root issue. It isn't therapy. I am a huge proponent of therapy. Therapy can be incredibly helpful for your child and for you. The real issue though is Intent. When therapy is offered as a space for your child to explore, process, and grow on their own terms, it can be transformative. But when therapy becomes a tool for correction, even subtle correction, it makes your child feel like a problem to solve, not a human being to understand. And when a child feels like the adults in their life are trying to correct their identity, trust begins to erode. Here's the progression, and I want you to really, really hear this. It goes from fear to control to distance to loss. Fear. Control, distance, loss. All of that unresolved fear led to the urge to control, and control, no matter how lovingly intended, creates distance. And distance over time slowly reshapes the entire relationship. Not with a single dramatic rupture, but a thousand tiny moments of withholding. A thousand small decisions to share less, confide less, need you less. That's the cost. And it's preventable. So here's the question I want you to sit with, and I want you to be honest, not for me, but for yourself. Are you seeking support for your child? Or are you hoping someone else will solve something you are afraid to face? Because your child can feel the difference. This is the work that I do. I don't shame parents for being scared. Fear is one of the most human responses there is. But I also don't let fear run the show. Together, We confront the fear underneath the urge to fix. We unpack what's really driving that reaction because it's almost never about your child. It's about you. And that's not a criticism. That's a starting place. We build the tools that allow you to move from control to connection so your child experiences you as a safe place to land, not a problem to overcome. You are not meant to do this alone, and you do not have to figure it out by trial and error when your relationship hangs in the balance. When you're ready, book a call. The link is in the show notes. If this episode felt uncomfortably familiar, that's your signal. Not your shame, your signal. You are not defined by this instinct to fix. Every single parent has it. It's wired in us. But you will shape your relationship by how you respond to that instinct. You can let fear keep driving, or you can pause, get honest, and choose connection. Book call. The link is in the show notes. Choose intentionally. Until next time.