“The greatest gift you can give your children is your own healing,” says Dr. Shefali Tsabary. Many parents find themselves asking constant questions. Am I doing too much or not enough? Am I harming my child? Am I being too hard or too soft? Am I spending enough time with them? Do I help too much, or should I help more?
They worry a son who talks about his feelings will be taken advantage of. They worry a daughter with boundaries will be considered too bossy. Should they be doing more as a parent, or less?
These questions flood the minds of parents who had childhood trauma and are trying to heal while raising their own children. Their main goal is often simple: not to do to their children what was done to them. One parent recalls that being the goal before having a son. The thought was not to have a baby until healed enough to not repeat past trauma. It seemed like it would not be too hard.
There was no way this parent would dismiss a child’s feelings. The plan was to be emotionally and physically present. No matter what the child went through, the parent would be compassionate, nurturing, and unconditionally loving. That is what children need and deserve. It is also what the parent needed and deserved.
But then the questions started. The doubt. The constant second-guessing. That quiet voice that asks if you are doing it wrong. One parent calls that “Not Good Enough Stuff.” No matter how many loving things were done, that voice still showed up. Am I talking about feelings too much? Should I let him handle things with friends on his own? When he is upset and says he needs space, do I leave or stay close?
When a teacher seems unfair, do I step in or let it go? If I know he needs help, do I wait for him to ask, or do I offer it? It is exhausting trying to get it right all the time. Upon reflection, two core fears often appear underneath everything.
The first fear is this: Am I giving my child too much affection? One parent always asks for permission before giving a hug. One day, the child was upset about something that happened at school. The parent sat next to him and asked, “Do you want a hug?” He did not even look up and said, “No.”
The parent paused, unsure what to do next. Every part wanted to pull him in anyway, to comfort him in the way that was always needed but never received as a child. Instead, the parent asked, “Do you want me to sit with you or give you space?” The child replied, “Just sit there.” So, the parent did. The parent sat in silence, fighting the urge to fix it, to say something, to do more, and the mind got loud with questions. Am I doing enough? Am I doing too much? Am I getting this wrong?
That moment hits something deeper because affection and comfort were not consistently received in childhood. For a long time, that felt normal. That belief started to shift the first time a friend’s mother gave a hug goodnight. It felt like one of the best feelings ever experienced. It felt safe, warm, and easy. More was wanted.
So, the next night, a request was made for a similar bedtime hug at home. That did not go well. The request triggered anger. The message was that if a mom like the friend’s was wanted, then go live with her. This is not shared to shame a parent. That parent did not receive affection or nurturing either. It is likely she did not know how to give something she never had.
But as a child, that was not understood. What was learned instead was that personal needs were too much. Those beliefs do not just disappear when we grow up. They follow us into adulthood, into relationships, into parenting. So now, when a child says no to a hug, it does not just feel like a simple preference. It brushes up against something old. And that is where “Not Good Enough Stuff” gets louder.
The second fear underneath all of this is quieter, but just as powerful: Am I pushing him too much to talk about his feelings? Am I setting him up to be seen as weak? Why do parents do this to themselves? Like so many things, it goes back to childhood. They had emotional needs that were not met, and now they are trying to make sure their children do not experience that same emptiness. That is a beautiful thing.
But there is one major problem. They were never shown how to do this. It is like trying to get somewhere without a map. A couple of years ago, one family moved from Mississippi to the mountains of Southern Oregon. Imagine making that drive with no directions, no GPS, and no one to guide you. Would you get there eventually? Probably. Would you take wrong turns, get lost, and feel frustrated along the way? Absolutely. That is what this feels like.
Parents know the kind of parents they want to be. They just do not have a clear path for how to get there. So, they make mistakes, and then they turn on themselves for making them. They try so hard to give their kids what they did not have that they start to question if they are overcorrecting. But here is something that grounds one parent when that voice gets loud.
People often think they need to give kids more. More activities. More opportunities. More things. But this parent has seen children who had very little financially, whose emotional needs were met, and they were okay, more than okay. They were more emotionally healthy than most kids. This parent has also known what it feels like to have things but not have the affection, comfort, and nurturing that actually mattered.
In honesty, this parent would have given up a lot of what was had just to feel safe, seen, and loved. That reminder brings the focus back to what actually matters. Not perfection, but connection. Of course, mistakes will be made. That is unavoidable. And yes, in some ways, parents will get it wrong. But here is what makes the difference.
These parents are doing things their own parents did not do. They reflect. They question. They care. They are willing to change. They are working on their own healing while raising a child. That matters more than getting everything right. If one had to bet, these parents are also doing something meaningful that a child will carry for the rest of their life.
Maybe they apologize when they mess up. Maybe they listen instead of dismissing. Maybe they try again the next day. Those things are not small. One parent admits to sometimes losing their temper with their son. In those moments, echoes of how they were raised are heard, and sometimes things heard as a child that were harmful are repeated.
But there is also notice. Sometimes right after, sometimes in the moment. That awareness allows for repair, and repair matters more than perfection ever will. When parents repair with their children, they teach them that mistakes are okay. They teach them how to take responsibility, how to reconnect, and how to build healthy relationships. That is something many were never taught, and it changes everything.
So, when the questioning starts again, it is advised to take a step back. Remember that this is incredibly hard work. It is parenting in a way one was never parented. It is learning as you go. It is choosing something different. That matters more than doing it perfectly ever could. The parent deserves compassion. They always did. And now, they get to give some of that compassion to themselves.
The journey of breaking cycles of trauma is a central theme in modern parenting discussions. Experts in child psychology often point to the act of self-reflection and repair as key factors in raising emotionally resilient children, highlighting that the process itself, not a flawless execution, fosters secure attachments.