The coaching centre was enrolled before you finished 10th. The stream was decided in a conversation your parents had together — you were told afterward. The college list was compiled from relatives' suggestions and YouTube rankings. And somewhere in all of that, your opinion was asked about, sort of, but in a way where the answer was already expected.
You don't even know what you would want instead. You just know that you feel a low, constant dread about the direction everything is moving in.
That dread is worth paying attention to. It's not ingratitude. It's not confusion. It's your inner life trying to be heard in a situation that has left very little room for it.
Why it's so hard to say something
In Indian families, parental sacrifice is real and visible. Your parents have worked hard, made specific choices, possibly taken on financial strain — all with you in mind. Disagreeing with their plan can feel like ingratitude. Like you're throwing their love back at them.
The cost of saying "I don't want this" feels enormous — not just the conflict itself, but the guilt that comes before and after it. The fear of watching your parent's face fall. The worry that you are being selfish, or naive, or ungrateful for opportunities they never had.
So you stay quiet. You go to the coaching centre. You study the subjects they chose. You perform the version of yourself that fits inside the plan. And underneath all of that, the dread keeps sitting there.
What the silence costs you
Living inside someone else's plan for your life without voicing disagreement has a slow, cumulative cost. You stop trusting your own preferences. Small things — what you want to eat, which film you want to watch, which subject you actually find interesting — start to feel irrelevant, because the big things have already been decided without you.
Over time, you can start to feel like your inner life — what you want, what you enjoy, what genuinely interests you — is not particularly relevant to the actual decisions being made about your future. The disconnect between what is happening and what you feel about it becomes something you manage rather than something you address.
This disconnection has a longer reach than most people realise. Difficulty knowing what you want. Difficulty advocating for yourself in relationships and work. A kind of passivity about your own life — watching it happen to you rather than living it from the inside. These patterns often start here, in the years when you learned that your preferences came last.
The conversation doesn't have to be a confrontation
Most parents in this situation are acting from love, not control — even when it doesn't feel that way. The plan exists because they are afraid for you, because they want you to be secure, because in their experience, certain paths lead to certain outcomes and they want the best ones for you.
That matters. It doesn't mean the plan is right for you, but understanding where it comes from changes how the conversation can go.
The goal is not to blow up the plan. The goal is to find a way to be heard. To introduce your perspective into the conversation — not as an ultimatum, not as a rejection of everything they have done for you, but as something real about you that the plan should account for. I have some thoughts about this. Can we talk? is very different from I refuse.
Many young people find it helpful to write things down first — not to send, but to get clear on what they actually want to say. What are you genuinely uncertain about? What do you actually want? What are you afraid will happen if you speak? Getting clear on the answers before the conversation makes it easier to stay grounded when emotions run high.
What you're allowed to want
Your preferences are data. They are information about who you are — what energises you, what you're curious about, where your strengths actually sit. This information belongs in any conversation about your future. Not as the only input, but as a real one.
You are allowed to have preferences. You are allowed to voice them — not as demands, not as ingratitude, but as something true about you that the people who love you deserve to know. A future built entirely without your input is not more secure. It is just more likely to feel hollow when you arrive in it.
If you're feeling trapped, anxious, or increasingly dissociated from your own life — like you're watching someone else live a life that has your name on it — therapy can help. It's a space where your inner life is actually the point. Where what you want matters, and where you can start to figure out how to bring that into the conversations that are shaping your future.
You can reach out on WhatsApp: wa.me/919560067620. No commitment, no intake forms — just a conversation about what's going on.
Try: Unsent Letter — say what you can't yet say out loud Try: What's Actually True? — what are you actually afraid will happen? Take the free anxiety screening — 3 minutesYour voice belongs in your own future.
Therapy is a space where what you want is the point — not a distraction from it. If you're ready to start that conversation, Ruchi is here.