Painful Family Stuff, Healing from Trauma, It’s a Process

The Silence Between Us: Navigating Motherhood, Forgiveness, and the Cycle of Pain

For a long time, I had wished to have a conversation with my biological mother. The conversation I imagined was one filled with questions, raw emotion, and the desperate need for an explanation and validation. Why did she place me in an abusive environment? Why did she feel I deserved the treatment I endured? Growing up in that life, I often felt like I was on trial, condemned without a voice. But then, I came to a painful realization: my mother didn’t intentionally place me in harm’s way. She raised me within the limits of her knowledge, her resources, and her worldview. And yes, while she put me in situations that broke my heart and spirit, she believed, in her way, she was doing her best.

Understanding that doesn’t erase the damage, but it brings some clarity. And now, as I find myself in a situation with one of my children, I can’t help but reflect on this cycle of parent-child dynamics. The roles seem reversed. I’m the mother now, and my heart feels heavy with the fear that I’m losing my child—not to physical absence, but to something more intangible—a distance that words can’t seem to cross.

I often wonder what I could say or do to repair whatever feels broken between us. And yet, I know they’re an adult, with their own path, their own story, and their own struggles that I may never fully understand. The hardest part? Accepting that while I don’t hold direct fault for what my child is going through, it’s still connected to how they feel I wronged them as a mother, and how those experiences shaped what they’re carrying now.

A Reflection on Generational Pain

In my journal today, I wrote about sending a letter, giving “my side” of things. But even as I considered it, I realized how self-centered that might be. It’s what I want. It’s what I feel might fix things. But is it what they need? I’m not sure. One of the things I always wanted from my mother was an apology. Just a simple acknowledgment that she saw my pain, that she understood the suffering she had caused, whether intentional or not.

Instead, when things got difficult, she sent a letter to my Aunt, blaming me for everything. She painted a picture of me as a horrible child, someone deserving of the pain I was living. It was like a knife to the gut. But that’s how she coped—with deflection and justification.

As I think back to that moment, I’m struck by how differently I responded when my relationship with my child hit a bump. When the tension rose, I didn’t blame them. I didn’t think for one second that they were at fault. I marveled at what an amazing child they had always been, feeling deeply blessed to have them in my life. My children were never to blame for the moments of strain between us; they were, and still are, the greatest blessings of my life.

The Weight of Parental Expectations

When children come into the world, they are blank slates. They don’t know right from wrong. They don’t have a built-in sense of what is expected of them. They rely on us, their parents, to teach them, guide them, and most importantly, love them unconditionally. They shouldn’t be punished for things they don’t understand. And yet, even with the best intentions, many parents—myself included—unintentionally pass on their pain and insecurities to their children. As my brother once pointed out, we tend to overcompensate, trying so hard to ensure our kids don’t suffer like we did. Ironically, in doing so, we often create new types of suffering.

This reflection has brought me face-to-face with the difficult truth: no matter how hard we try, we can’t shield our children from pain. And sometimes, despite our efforts, the very things we do to protect them become the sources of their hurt.

A Letter Unwritten

So now, I find myself wondering, should I write that letter to my child? Should I tell them that I’m here for them, no matter what they’re going through? Should I apologize for any unintended hurt, even if I don’t know what it is? Or should I let them find their own way to heal, to process, to forgive if that’s what they need?

It’s hard to know what the right course of action is. But what I do know is that I love them—deeply, unconditionally—and that I will always be here for them. Sometimes, the best thing we can do as parents is to step back, offer our love without expectation, and trust that our children will find their way.

Breaking the Cycle

I never got the apology I needed from my mother. And perhaps my child doesn’t need an apology from me—perhaps they need space, or time, or understanding. What I hope they know is that I love them beyond words and that no matter what, I’ll be here. And that, in itself, is a form of breaking the cycle. Instead of repeating the patterns of blame and deflection, I’m choosing openness and love. It may not solve everything, but it’s a step toward healing—both for me and, I hope, for them.

The Path to Healing: Finding Yourself Beyond the Pain

In the process of writing my book, I delved deep into my healing journey, and one thing became clear: healing doesn’t look the same for everyone. There is no one-size-fits-all path to recovery and no universal timeline for when the pieces will fall into place. Some people take years to face their pain; others might avoid it for a lifetime. But for those willing to take the time for themselves, the answers often lie within, waiting to be uncovered.

I know firsthand that the process of healing can feel overwhelming, and at times, nearly impossible. The pain, the grief, the unresolved emotions can weigh heavily. It’s easy to feel lost and disconnected from who you truly are. But what I discovered is that the person you’ve always been—the one untouched by the trauma or hardships—is still there. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of creating the time and space to see yourself again, beyond all the noise.

Through my writing, I reflected on how I, too, struggled with self-discovery and forgiveness. I wrote my book not to offer solutions, but to share the truths I uncovered along the way. It became a personal testimony to the fact that healing is possible, no matter how long the journey may take. I wanted to put into words the very things I wish someone had told me when I felt lost in my pain.

And while I don’t have all the answers, I do know this: true healing requires patience, vulnerability, and a willingness to face the depths of your own soul. It’s about peeling back the layers, understanding your own story, and realizing that you are more than the pain you’ve endured. You are whole, even if it takes time to feel that way again.

For those reading this who may be struggling with their journey, I want you to know that healing is not out of reach. It’s not reserved for the few, nor is it dependent on anyone else’s timeline or expectations. It’s about you, your growth, and your willingness to reconnect with yourself.

No matter what your situation is or how deep the hurt goes, I encourage you to believe in the possibility of healing. Take the time for yourself. Let go of the need for quick fixes or external validation. The journey is yours to take, at your own pace, in your way. The most important thing is that you begin.

Beyond My Story: Inspiring Healing for All

I want to be clear: this story isn’t about me. It’s not about what I’ve gone through or the struggles I’ve faced. My journey is just one among countless others, and I share it only in the hope that it might help someone else feel less alone. We all carry our own stories, our pain, and our paths toward healing. I was there, in the thick of it—feeling lost, angry, and unsure of how to move forward. But if my story can serve as a reminder that healing is possible, and that change is within reach, then it’s worth sharing.

What I hope people take away from this is the understanding that you don’t have to stay stuck in that place of fear and frustration. You are not defined by the things that have hurt you. Healing isn’t just for a select few—it’s for anyone willing to take that first step, even if it’s the hardest thing they’ll ever do.

This isn’t just about me or my family. It’s about breaking the cycle of pain for all of us who’ve been caught in it. It’s about those who fear they’ll always be trapped by their past, unable to move forward. I share my story because I believe that no one should have to stay in that dark place. I share it because I want to inspire others to see that healing—real, deep healing—is possible.

If you’re reading this and feeling like your wounds will never heal, I want you to know that there is hope. I want to inspire you to believe that you can move beyond the hurt, that you can find peace, and that you can reclaim your life. It won’t happen overnight, and it won’t always be easy. But you are worth the effort, and your healing matters—not just for you, but for everyone who loves you, and for the world that benefits from your wholeness.