In many families, cultures, and social structures, there exists an invisible yet omnipresent force known as patriarchy. It does not bind you with iron chains, nor does it control you with violence. Its true power lies in its quiet infiltration of your inner self—making you its own guardian.
It is like an internal colonization: it does not occupy your body but rather takes over your mental map. It tells you who should speak and who should obey; it tells you what is "obedient" and what is "rebellious"; more critically, it makes you see "submission" as a virtue and "independence" as a danger.
At the core of this system is a vertical power chain: at the top is the supreme "father"—not necessarily just a biological dad, but could also be a mother, teacher, leader, tradition, rule, or even some voice telling you "how you should be." At the bottom is the eternally immature "child"—which is ourselves.
This system operates through three mechanisms, like three locks, that confine our growth:
The first lock: prohibition of patricide.
It does not truly mean to harm anyone, but rather says—you cannot question that authority. Once you express dissatisfaction or raise objections, you will be labeled as "unfilial," "immature," or "ingrate." Over time, you even begin to fear your own anger, feeling that resistance is a sin.
The second lock: rewarding obedience.
As long as you comply, you will receive benefits: resources at home, smiles from parents, praise from relatives, and social recognition. Thus, you learn to perform: smile, nod, say "I will do as you say." You exchange "obedience" for a sense of security and "submission" for a sense of belonging.
The third lock: erasing individuality.
Here, "I" is a dangerous word. "You must think of the family," "Don't be too selfish," "Everyone does this," these phrases seep into your soul like fine rain. Over time, you begin to doubt: Who am I, really? Are my feelings important? Are my desires too much to ask for?
Thus, you fall into a state of contradictory coexistence:
On one hand, you hate the authority that controls you, feeling that it suppresses and confines you;
On the other hand, you fear losing it—afraid that once you leave, you will have nothing and no one to rely on.
This feeling of both love and hate, dependence and resentment, is the essence of a "psychological giant baby."
What is a "psychological giant baby"?
It is someone whose body has matured, but whose mind remains stuck in the infant stage that must rely on adults to survive. They crave freedom but do not dare to truly leave; they want to express themselves but fear abandonment; they are angry but can only complain in secret; they dream of change but do not even dare to take the first step.
Why does this happen?
There is a very important concept in psychoanalysis called separation-individuation. Simply put, it means that a child must "psychologically leave" their parents to become a complete, independent person.
The key to this process is a symbolic patricide—not truly hating or harming parents, but daring to say: "I can choose a different path from you."
This is the rite of passage into adulthood. Only after completing this step can a person establish a stable, unified self—a self that knows who they are, what they want, and can take responsibility for themselves.
But in a patriarchal culture, this lesson is abruptly cut off.
Thus, we see:
- Some fail to commit patricide: just as they want to say "no," a strong sense of guilt immediately surges, forcing them to lower their heads and admit fault, returning to a position of obedience;
- Some experience self-fracture: to please others, they suppress their true emotions, don a "good child" mask, and live increasingly unlike themselves;
- Some shift their attachment: they leave their parents but immediately seek a new "authority" to rely on—bosses, partners, celebrities, systems, or even some ideology. As long as someone can give them direction, recognition, they are willing to follow.
Thus, a person who is "physically adult but psychologically still dependent" is born.
They may be successful in their careers, with a glamorous social circle, but internally, there remains a void—an emptiness that belongs to "autonomy."
In modern society, such "giant babies" often appear wearing three types of masks:
The first type: mama's boy.
He talks about "filial piety," but in reality, he is avoiding responsibility and independence. He treats his mother as an emotional partner, even replacing the role of a wife. He cannot establish equal intimate relationships because his true attachment figure is always that woman who raised him.
The second type: princess syndrome.
She appears weak and helpless, as if the whole world should pamper, provide for, and satisfy her. She is not truly weak but has never learned to stand on her own. She sees others as "omnipotent parents," expecting them to love her unconditionally, accept her, and solve her problems.
The third type: authority addict.
He was once an oppressed child, but once he has power, he immediately becomes the kind of person he hates the most—autocratic, controlling, and unquestionable. Because he has never learned how to treat others equally, he can only replicate the power dynamics from his childhood experiences.
They may seem different, but their core is astonishingly consistent:
The exterior is narcissism, the core is inferiority.
They need to constantly seek affirmation, attention, and a sense of control from the outside to confirm their existence. Once no one sees them, hears them, or obeys them, they feel emptiness, as if they do not exist.
Dear friend, if you understand this, you may suddenly realize:
It turns out that my anxieties, procrastination, people-pleasing, anger, and sense of powerlessness… are not entirely my problem.
They are imprints left by my growing environment, systemic psychological traumas.
But please remember: Awakening itself is the beginning of healing.
True "patricide" is never about hating parents or severing ties.
It is about saying goodbye to parasitic dependence, gently saying in your heart: "Thank you for raising me, but now, I must walk my own path."
This is not betrayal, but maturity.
Like a tree, whose roots once drew nourishment from the earth, but ultimately grows upward, reaching toward its own sunlight.
What you need to do is not to overthrow the father, but to step out of his shadow.
What you want is not rebellion, but rebuilding yourself—to reclaim those suppressed feelings, to hear those denied desires again, to liberate that "I" from "we."
This process is not easy. You will feel fear, guilt, and doubt whether you are too cold or too selfish.
But please believe: a truly healthy relationship is not maintained by attachment, but by two independent individuals who see each other, respect each other, and freely choose to be together.
When you no longer need to rely on others' recognition to prove your worthiness of love,
When you can still feel complete in solitude,
When you dare to take responsibility for your choices without blaming the heavens or others—
At that moment, you will have completed your psychological rite of passage.
You are no longer a giant baby, but a complete person.
And this is the beginning of freedom.