Isn’t It Time We Stop Passing Generational Trauma Down to Our Children?
Awareness is the first step to saving our kids.
As a kid, my home life was atypical. Both parents grew up during World War II and, as adults, immigrated to a country where they could find work and affordable housing. Even though they had greatly improved their circumstances by coming here, they still lived like children of war.
They never lost their prepare-for-armageddon mindset.
Our basement overflowed with canned goods bought on sale. We ate every morsel of food, even if it had expired. I was never excused from the table until I had eaten all the food on my plate. (I can still feel the ice-cold peas in my mouth.) Leftovers were never thrown away, even if they'd been in the fridge for a week.
My parents wore their clothes until they were ready for the rag pile. I was embarrassed at how they looked. As a child, I outgrew my clothes quickly so they never wore out. Because I was so tall, Sears Roebuck sold the only clothes that fit me, a sparse collection of hideous items for tall, skinny kids.
Mostly, I walked around in flood pants with sleeves that were way too short.
While I always had fresh bathwater to clean myself, my parents bathed in the dirty water I left behind. My dad would wash last since he was a laborer covered in paint and sweat. The water was black as night when he was through. I know this because they believed the heat from the bathwater would heat the upstairs, so the water stayed until it was cold.
My dad tried to fix everything himself because calling outside help meant they had to pay. They barely kept the heater on in the winter, although we had a smelly kerosene space heater in the TV room. The air conditioner was always on its warmest setting if they turned it on at all.
Had my parents been raised in America, or had I had siblings to bring in opposing points of view, I wouldn't have felt that I lived in the Sahara while my classmates lived in the land of milk and honey.
I never gave my parents any trouble, mostly because I was scared to anger my mother. My mother’s mental illness was a wedge that kept us from having a cohesive family. My dad catered to my mother and her moods, and that lack of support affected me for the rest of my life. You can read more about that here.
My parents' expectation was I had nothing to ever complain given how little they had growing up. I stayed out of sight and kept quiet. I didn't need anything bad enough to risk disrupting the peace or seeming ungrateful.
Kids at school used to tease me by calling me A-lona, but were surprisingly perceptive. We were foreigners.
It makes sense now that I would marry someone who perpetuated my beliefs about myself. Solo was my way. I was that way since childhood, and the feeling never left.
Is it surprising that my number one complaint was that my ex ignored me? That I felt lonely being married to him? That I never felt seen or heard?
I wish it weren't true, but I set that up for myself. My ex-husband chose me for his unhealthy reasons, too. We combined ecosystems.
I realized early in my marriage that I messed up. Cutting my losses was never an option. No one in our circle was divorced, making it impossible for me. I wasn't emotionally or financially equipped to leave. I didn't possess the strength to stand up against my parents, let alone my spouse, at the time.
Even so, I was slowly evolving and growing in awareness, but not fast enough to avoid replicating a similar dynamic within my family. Even though I loved my kids and wanted the best for them, our home wasn't a place to thrive and flourish.
For a long time, I thought they were okay despite our dysfunction. Now, I know that’s not the case. I wasn’t hiding anything. They knew things weren’t right.
You may think nobody's perfect, and I'm being too hard on myself. None of our parents ever apologized to us for their mistakes.
Even though we have no control over what families we are born in, that doesn't relieve me from taking responsibility for the trauma and dysfunction I passed down.
Now that I can see it, it can't be unseen.
With compassion for myself, I accept that I only had a limited capacity to nurture them as their mother. My childhood shaped who I became, which wasn’t the best version of myself. I can attempt to remedy the situation with my own kids through my awareness now.
It's really important that I at least try.
The relationship between a parent and a child isn't equal but hierarchical. The parent is the caregiver, and the child is cared for. When the kids are adults, that hierarchy fades, but it's still important that I, as a parent, take the initiative and show that I could have done better.
Admitting that I wasn't perfect is humbling. Knowing that I could have done better for three of the most precious people in my life is not a great feeling.
I have friends whose adult children no longer speak to them, and it's an alarming trend. Those kids are hurting and suffering the consequences of their childhoods. Children should strive for mental health, even cutting off their parents if that makes sense.
Besides the fear of being cut off, there's a better reason to come clean with the kids. We must stop passing down trauma from generation to generation for our grandchildren’s sake.
We must point out where we could have done better so that the dysfunction doesn't continue and our kids become aware enough not to repeat our mistakes.
Letting our kids know we made mistakes is not a weakness. It's human. What a gift to tell our kids that mistakes are ok and even expected. (Read my friend,
’s fabulous newsletter about embracing our weaknesses here.)We don't own our children. We are merely the vessels through which they come through. Once they're adults, we have no choice but to stand back and witness their becoming. Let’s help them by showing them they can choose differently.
Thought from my walk today: Don't wear open-toed shoes if you don't want stones under your feet.
You are so natural with personal storytelling. I love the way you weave them with a message. And mention of Sadhguru’s advice on parenting is the cherry on the top. Thanks for mention of my post too. I am so excited with the new direction your newsletter is taking. I love the name, it’s brilliant.