What They Gave Me, What I Carry: Parenting Through the Gaps of Intergenerational Trauma

“I’m trying to give my kids something I’ve never had. But some days, it feels like I’m still figuring out how to give it to myself.”

If you’ve ever felt that—this blog is for you.

As a trauma therapist walking with families through cycles of hurt, hope, and healing, I’ve seen how deeply intergenerational trauma shapes the way we parent. In the Black community especially, parenting often feels like trying to quilt warmth from pieces that never fit right to begin with.

We’re trying to build a legacy of love while carrying the weight of what we didn’t receive.

When Affection Feels Foreign

Parent’s story: “Every morning, my daughter runs in and hugs me like it’s been years since she’s seen me. And even though I love her, my body tenses. I didn’t grow up like that. I was the kid standing at the bus stop alone, lunchbox in hand, waiting for someone to notice I was gone. Now I have this child who needs love so freely, and sometimes it makes me feel like I’m being smothered in all the ways I never learned to breathe.”

Affection can feel overwhelming when you didn’t grow up with it. It’s okay to admit that. It doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you a person still learning what it means to receive love—without condition or performance.

Ask yourself:

• What was affection like in my home growing up?

• When I feel smothered by my child’s love, what might that be bringing up in me?

Healing Tip: When you feel overstimulated, gently narrate it: “Mommy’s heart is full, but my body feels tired. Let’s take a cuddle break and pick it back up in 10 minutes.”

You’re not rejecting them, you’re regulating yourself.

The Overstimulated Parent

Parent’s story: “I snapped at my son yesterday because he dropped juice on the floor. He cried, and I immediately felt shame. It wasn’t about the juice—it was the noise, the movement, the fact that I’ve been ‘on’ since 6 a.m. I don’t remember my mom playing with us. She worked two jobs, and we kept quiet. I thought I’d parent differently, but I didn’t know how hard it would be to stay emotionally available when I’m mentally exhausted.”

Overstimulation isn’t just about noise—it's emotional history colliding with the chaos of parenting. If you were raised in a house where survival came before self-care, overstimulation might be your body’s cry for regulation.

Ask yourself:

• How do I handle noise, chaos, or mess?

• Do I feel guilty for needing rest?

Healing Tip: Create a pause practice. Even 5 minutes to breathe, journal, or just be still can shift your nervous system.

Building a Two-Parent Household With No Blueprint

Parent’s story: “We got into a fight about bedtime routines. I shut down, he got louder, and suddenly I felt like a child again—like I was back in the room where grown folks talked and kids just did what they were told. I didn’t see partnership growing up. Just my mom doing everything alone. Now that I have a partner, I don’t know how to be in a parenting team without feeling like I’m losing control or being unheard.”

When you’ve never seen healthy conflict resolution or emotional intimacy modeled, partnership feels like guesswork.

Ask yourself:

• What do I believe a partner “should” be doing?

• Are my expectations rooted in fear, fantasy, or fairness?

Conversation Starter: “I realized I never saw what healthy partnership looked like growing up. I want us to talk about how we can build it together.”

The Legacy of Silence

Parent’s story: “I heard my son yelling at his sister the other day and realized… he sounded like me. But the thing is—I don’t even yell because I’m angry. I yell because I don’t know how else to be heard. My parents didn’t explain things. They barked orders. I didn’t see them talk through conflict. I saw tension, slammed doors, and weeks of silence. So now, I either explode or retreat. I want more for my kids, but I’m learning this in real time.”

Ask yourself:

• What did conflict resolution look like in my home?

• When I disagree with my partner or child, what emotions rise up first—fear? Anger? Shame?

Healing Practice: Say: “I’m feeling overwhelmed, and I need a moment.” This models that emotions aren’t shameful—they’re signals.

The Mother-Daughter Wound

Parent’s story: “My daughter told me I was ‘mean’ yesterday. I felt like the breath left my chest. I swore I’d never be like my mom—cold, always criticizing, never praising. But when I look at her, I see my younger self… and sometimes that frustrates me more than I want to admit. Her sensitivity feels inconvenient because no one ever held space for mine.”

Ask yourself:

• Do I feel triggered when my daughter needs me emotionally?

• Am I repeating patterns of comparison, pressure, or performance?

Healing Tip: Break the cycle by affirming—not fixing. Tell her: “I’m proud of your heart. You don’t have to earn my love.”

The Mother-Son Blurred Line

Parent’s story: “He asked me if I was okay—my 10-year-old son. I had just gotten off the phone crying after an argument with his dad. And I looked at him, feeling both comforted and guilty. He’s always ‘checking on me.’ Always trying to make me laugh. But that’s not his job. I keep calling him my little man, but maybe I’ve been asking him to carry adult emotions that aren’t his to hold.”

Ask yourself:

• Do I confide in my son more than I should?

• Do I expect emotional support from him?

Healing Tip: Build a village so your son can be free to feel, play, and make mistakes. He deserves to be a boy—not a buffer.

The Absent Father Wound

Parent’s story: “My daughter asked why her grandpa never visits. I didn’t know what to say. My own dad left when I was five. I spent years wondering what I did wrong. Now I see that wound show up when I bend over backwards trying to prove my worth—to friends, to my husband, even to my kids. I didn’t realize how deep that ache was until I saw it start forming in her.”

Ask yourself:

• When I think of my father, what emotion comes up first—anger, grief, numbness?

• How does that impact my parenting?

Healing Practice: Write your inner child a letter. Say what you wish your father had said. And then say it to your own child.

The Harsh Fathering Blueprint

Parent’s story: “My dad used to say, ‘Crying is for girls.’ So I stopped crying around 8 years old. Now I have a son, and when he cries, something in me wants to yell, ‘Toughen up!’ But I stop myself. Because I remember how lonely it felt to hurt and be told that pain was weakness. I’m trying to let him feel. But I won’t lie—sometimes, it makes me feel like I’m doing it wrong.”

Ask yourself:

• Am I parenting my child or projecting my pain?

• What emotion do I struggle to express?

Healing Tip: Let your son cry. Let your daughter challenge. Let yourself soften. Healing begins when love becomes louder than fear.

Closing Reflection: You’re Not Failing. You’re First.

You are the blueprint.The first to say “I love you” out loud.The first to pause, breathe, and ask, “Why did I react like that?”The first to rewrite the story.

Call to Action: 3 Next Steps to Support Your Healing

1. Therapy: Speak to a parenting therapist or coach who can help you unpack your upbringing and develop new patterns.

   
   

2. Journaling Prompts:

   • What did I need most as a child?

   • What am I trying to overcompensate for as a parent?

   • What emotion do I suppress the most in parenting?

     
     

3. Community Conversations: Host or attend a healing circle or parent support group rooted in reflection and accountability.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going: Share this post with someone breaking cycles. If you're ready to explore these questions in community, stay tuned for upcoming workshops and healing spaces.

You don’t have to do this alone. You’re navigating the stream—and the ripples will change everything.