Why Do So Many People in Their 30s and 40s Feel So Unseen by Their Parents?

Well, technically, the short answer is “I don’t know.”

But, I’ve got a very good theory!

For those of us now in our 30s and 40s, our parents are aging into their 60s, 70s, and beyond. And with that comes a collision of generations—values, norms, and needs that don’t always align. One of the most persistent frustrations I hear from clients in our age range is simple, yet profound:

“I don’t feel seen by my parents.”

They’re not usually talking about rejection or abuse—although those things certainly exist. More often, the issue is subtler. Their parents may love them deeply, may even say the words—but there’s a disconnect. A way in which they are not recognized. Not attuned to. Not fully met.

And over time, that invisibility starts to hurt.

The Inheritance of Emotional Frugality

To understand this rupture, we have to look backward. Our parents—those now in their 60s and 70s—were raised by people who lived through some combination of World Wars I and II, the Great Depression, and thei cultural aftershocks. Many of their parents were stuck in survival mode. The message, overt or implied, was clear: If you have food, clothing, and shelter, you have nothing to complain about.

It wasn’t that those generations didn’t love their children (i.e., our parents). But their version of love was practical, not emotional. Emotions weren’t attended to. Emotional needs probably weren’t viewed as valid. If a child was sad or lonely, they were told to go outside, play, get some fresh air. Rub some dirt on it. Laugh it off.

And so many of our parents grew up not feeling seen—because they weren’t. They were taught that hardship is life, and the only solution is stoicism.

An Unconscious Preoperational Loop of Egocentrism

That inheritance gets passed down. Children who grow up emotionally unseen don’t simply “get over it.” Many become adults still craving to be noticed.

Ahem. Enter some of our parents.

Many of them never really resolved this need and so, unconsciously, began using us—their children—as their audience. They monologue. They dominate conversations. They seek affirmation. They tell us all about themselves, seemingly fixated on their own internal world, while never thinking to ask about ours.

And when we grew up, the dynamic didn’t. We continued being “good kids”—listening, accommodating, deferring. And now, we find ourselves frustrated by the imbalance. Many of us sit across from our parents at holiday time, imaginally rolling our eyes, and thinking:

“Can you ask me a question for once?”

“Can you stop talking about yourself and get to know me!?!?”

It’s a sort of unconscious egocentrism in the most classic Piagetian sense of the word. In a way, many of them are stuck in a preoperational stage in which they struggle to truly take on, empathize with, consider, or appreciate another person’s point of view, whether it is perceptually, emotionally, or cognitively.

And they endlessly replay this loop, unconsciously fantasizing the need will be met now…by their children (or important others in their environment). Only, when these impulses are unconscious, it’s damn near impossible to gratify the need because you never understand it’s there in the first place.

Why It Hurts More Now

I believe these patterns come into sharper focus in our 30s and 40s because it is the season of life when many of us are becoming parents ourselves. We see how we feel about and act towards our children. We noticed our keen interest in their experiences.

And we can’t help but wonder why our parents didn’t feel and act this way, too.

Sadly, I think the capacity was originally within them but buried under the sands of unmet needs for feeling seen, known, and heard in early childhood.

Some clients have said to me: “I never realized how much I did for my parents emotionally until I had kids of my own.” Others note how absurd it now seems that their parents still talk “at them” rather than “with them.” They still forget key details. They still don’t ask how we’re doing.

And what once felt like “just how my parents are” now feels like loss. Like grief. Because we realize: We’re probably not going to get it from them.

Breaking the Cycle

But here’s the hope.

Our generation—Gen X, Millennials, and those after—has started doing something radical: We’ve normalized therapy. We’ve begun talking about emotional needs without shame. We’ve said, collectively, “The buck stops here.”

We are the ones who said: “That wasn’t good enough. We can do better.”

We’re trying to raise kids we actually are attuned with. We’re learning how to co-regulate, how to apologize, how to be present. And many of us are beginning the long, messy process of healing our own wounds—so we don’t pass them along.

What Now?

For some, that means confronting our parents. Telling them what we need. Asking to be seen. Sometimes, they hear us and we feel met-in-the-middle. That’s gravy because, other times, they just can’t get there.

And that’s part of the grief, too.

For others, it means creating the kind of family—chosen or biological—that gives us what we didn’t get. It means learning to believe our needs are not burdens. That we are not too much. That we deserve to be met.

And for all of us, it means allowing ourselves to want something better. Even if we never get it from our parents, we can learn to give it to ourselves—and to those we love.

It’s not too late to stop the cycle.