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Raising Adults by Breaking Children

Vaibhav Chaudhary Student Contributor, Manipal University Jaipur
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MUJ chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.

There is no clear point in time when a person transitions into an adult. The transition typically occurs gradually, as people stop feeling a certain kind of way (you know, somewhat carefree), as if they were under some permission to be children. Gradually, people develop internal rules for life and understand that exhibiting signs of childishness leads to feelings of disappointment or judgement from others, which is true in several scenarios in today’s life (even if someone tends to deny it).

“Don’t be upset.”
“Use your common sense.”
“Act your age.”

People develop such internal rules in their life as a way to survive in a world where childhood exhibits are viewed as a sign of inefficiency. As children grow, they develop the ability to suppress their emotions before expressing them orally, as well as the understanding that being vocal leads to danger. They also come to realise that curiosity is bothersome, and vulnerability does not earn compassion from those in authority. The concepts of guidance and support for children become used as a way for the adults around them to acclimate them into becoming smaller, less demanding and easier-to-handle behaviour patterns. While a child may still physically exist presently, their current environment has become unfriendly and, therefore, not conducive to being a child anymore.

The justifications for preparing children for adulthood are that the people out there — the very world itself — are cruel and, to protect you from it, you need this conditioning. However, this justification becomes a form of punishment when love is given conditionally based on your behaviours. Your actions are rewarded with love. Your successes are rewarded with love. Your mistakes are not met with compassion but disappointment instead. A child learns very quickly that in order to be loved, they must earn it; they must learn to hide their pain from the public; they must learn to put on a smile when necessary; and they must present a version of themselves that will not create any issues for the adults surrounding them. Throughout the process of meeting the aforementioned criteria for acceptance within the adult world, a child is often praised for their maturity without realising that it was not safe to maintain the innocence of being a child for that long.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Maya Angelou

The detriment to trust is quiet, cumulative and does not happen in an instant. The pain is the perpetual yearning for unconditional acceptance. It is the impulse to control how much you are perceived. Your laughs are tentative; you edit your opinions before they leave your lips; you begin apologising for taking up space. An unfinished version of yourself is nestled within you. There is a child inside you that has been patiently waiting, with the belief that through hard work, you will receive tenderness. The child is running out of patience.

This trauma that we label “childhood abuse” continues into adulthood but continues to evolve to become your greatest strength and ability to remain steadfast in the face of adversity. You may be deemed “responsible” by colleagues and peers to the point that you have lost your ability to rest and back down from your duties, disallowing yourself the “luxury” of rest without guilt. You do not know how to allow others to care for you without feeling guilty and constantly worrying about how you can prove yourself to the world. As the person you have grown into, there may be a child still living within you that has realised from an early age that tenderness was something that was or could be compromised. The process of healing begins when you can finally admit that this degree of self-sufficiency you are relying on is an adaptation and not a true sign of strength. In other words, when we adapt to survive, that does not make the adaptation a strength; it makes it a broken childhood.

Discover more stories on Her Campus at MUJ. More articles by me coming soon at Vaibhav Chaudhary at HCMUJ; he who watches the world and its miracles closely, noticing what slips between moments, between the infinite realities.

Vaibhav is the kind of person who makes duality look easy. One moment he’s dissecting history, the next he’s deadlifting it. He lives in the overlap of muscle and mind, the gym and the journal, the logic and the lyric.

His world is stitched together by curiosity, history, science, and philosophy all colliding in his search for meaning that feels older than reason itself.

He digs through the past not for nostalgia, but for proof, connecting myths to logic, faith to physics, and stories to structures that still shape the human mind. When he’s not writing or lifting, he’s gaming, learning, or experimenting with ways to make sense of both chaos and calm.

He writes to remember, to question, and to keep the fire alive when certainty fades. In every silence, he senses a rhythm; in every story, a blueprint of something eternal.

Some chase power, others peace, Vaibhav is learning to forge both, one page and one breath at a time.
To Vaibhav, growth is sacred. He’s not chasing just mere perfection but alignment, alignment between mind, body, and something far beyond both.