Short answer: When a parent says something cruel, the words are one thing and the meaning you give them is another. Slow down between the two. Write down exactly what was said, then ask what else could be true besides “I am failing.” You are not excusing the words. You are refusing to let them become a verdict on you.
You are holding a spoonful of soup at the level of your father’s mouth. He turns his face to the wall and says, “Get out. I never asked for you.”
Three years ago he taught you to drive in an empty church parking lot and never once raised his voice. Now you set the spoon down on the tray very carefully, because the other choice is to throw it. You stand in the hallway and say his sentence over again in your head.
How do I stop taking my parent’s hurtful words personally?
Epictetus was born enslaved in the Roman world, and after he was freed he spent his life teaching. His main point was that other people could control a great deal about his life, but not what he made of what they did to him.
“Remember that it is not he who reviles you or strikes you who insults you, but your opinion that these things are insulting.”
Epictetus, Enchiridion, Chapter 20
Why this hits differently when you are a caregiver
Epictetus is pulling apart two things we normally treat as one. First, something happens: a person says a harsh sentence. Second, we decide what it means: he really thinks this, I deserve it, nothing I do is enough.
The first part is just an event. The second part is a judgment, and it arrives so fast that it feels like part of the event.
He is not saying the sting is fake. He is saying there is a small gap between the words and the verdict, and the gap belongs to you.
That gap is harder to find when you are a caregiver. This is not a stranger on the bus. This is the person whose opinion of you once mattered more than anyone’s, and you are giving up your evenings, your savings, and sometimes your sleep to look after them. The words land on the most tender ground you have.
There is also no break. A coworker who insults you goes home at five. Your parent is there again at six the next morning, and you cannot leave.
And you often cannot tell why it was said. It could be pain, fear, exhaustion, an illness, or an old grudge that finally found a way out. When you cannot know, your mind tends to fill the blank with the worst possible reading, and the worst reading is usually about you.
None of this means you must accept cruelty with a calm face. Epictetus was not teaching people to be doormats. He was teaching them to be accurate. Some things said to you are unkind, and you can say so. What you do not have to do is sign your name to the verdict.
One thing you can do today
The next time a remark stings, take out your phone, or find the back of an envelope, and write exactly two lines.
On line one, write only what happened, as if a camera had recorded it. “He pushed the spoon away and said, ‘Get out. I never asked for you.'” No adjectives, no guesses about his motives.
On line two, write what you told yourself it meant. “He resents me. I am doing this badly. Nobody would want me here.”
Now read line two as if a friend had said it about her own situation. Ask one question: is there another reading that would fit line one just as well? Write it down. Maybe he is ashamed of needing help.
Maybe he is tired of being handled by strangers. Maybe you never find out. You are not picking the kind reading to feel better. You are noticing that line one does not prove line two.
When it gets hard, the sting will not always loosen, and that is fine. Sometimes the other reading feels like a lie. Then leave line two on the page and let line one stand by itself. It was a hurtful sentence. That is all the camera caught.
And if the words were truly cruel, you can still step out of the room, change the subject, or tell him that you will come back when he is ready to talk differently.
Sit with this
What is the sentence you most often say to yourself right after someone hurts you?
Going deeper with this lesson
The two-line check is one of four practical tools in this lesson. The book gives you the other three, plus a full written reflection, a journaling prompt, and a worksheet page you can fill out and keep. This lesson sits in Volume 2 of The Stoic Caregiver, which covers family conflict, anger, guilt, and the question of who you are when caregiving takes over.
