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๐๐š๐ซ๐ž๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐‚๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ž๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐€๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ ๐‚๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐ž๐ง: ๐๐š๐ฏ๐ข๐ ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐”๐ง๐ฌ๐ž๐ž๐ง ๐‘๐ข๐ฏ๐š๐ฅ๐ซ๐ฒ.

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A milestone is reached. An adult daughter, her own money in hand, buys a beautiful saree, a celebration of her independence and taste. She shows her mother, hoping to share a moment of joy. And soon, her mother has bought a newer, more expensive saree for herself. You share how you gave up something for you child and get a response of how they gave up something bigger for raising you. An adult son commits to his health, joining a gym with a feeling of purpose. Shortly after, his father announces he too is joining a gym in a more expensive program, not for companionship, but with a quiet air of challenge.. The spirit is not one of shared improvement. The spirit is one of competition.

This is the subtle, confusing dance of parental rivalry. It is a competition that often goes unspoken, yet it creates a profound tension for the adult child. They cannot share a promotion without hearing of a past, greater promotion. They cannot speak of a vacation without a parent detailing a more luxurious itinerary. Their joy becomes a trigger for a parentโ€™s need to reclaim a spotlight, to prove they are still relevant, still successful, still ahead.

This behaviour is not about pride in their child. It is about a deep-seated insecurity within the parent. It is a fragile ego that mistakes a childโ€™s success for a personal defeat. The parentsโ€™ identity, once built on being the provider and the achiever, feels threatened by the rise of their own offspring. So they compete. They compete over whose career was more demanding, whose sacrifices were greater, whose social life is more vibrant, whose home is more impressive. They relate their own successes without ever truly acknowledging their children's success.

So how does an adult child handle this? How do they navigate this terrain without causing a rupture, while still protecting their own spirit?

The first step is a quiet internal shift. It is to recognise that this behaviour is not a reflection of your worth, but a reflection of their struggle. Their need to compete speaks of their own unmet needs, their own fears of fading relevance. This understanding does not excuse the behaviour, but it can drain it of its personal sting. It becomes their burden, not yours.

The second step is to change your own response. Stop feeding the competition. When you share a success and they immediately counter with their own, do not engage in the comparison. Do not try to top their story. Simply acknowledge it and gently return the focus. You can say, "I'm glad you had that experience. As I was saying, I was really proud of my team's effort." This is not rude. It is a quiet boundary. It teaches them, slowly, that your news is not an opening for a contest.

The third step is to consciously cultivate a different kind of sharing. Instead of announcing achievements, share your feelings. Share your struggles. Talk about the things that do not trigger their competitive instinct. Talk about a book you loved, an idea that moved you, a memory you cherish. Redirect the connection toward emotional intimacy, away from comparative milestones.

You cannot stop a parent from competing. But you can refuse to be a player in their game. You can choose to see their behaviour as the echo of their own insecurity. And you can build a life where your successes are celebrated by your own chosen family, by the friends and partners who know that your light does not dim their own. Your journey is your own. Do not let anyone, not even a parent, turn it into a race you were never meant to run.

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