“The most precious gift you can provide for your children is your own healing.” ~Dr. Shefali Tsabary
Am I overdoing it or not doing enough?
Am I harming my child? Am I overly strict or not strict enough? Am I giving them sufficient quality time? Do I provide too much assistance or not adequate support?
Will my son’s willingness to share his feelings make him prone to vulnerability? Will my daughter’s assertiveness be interpreted negatively? Should I be more or less involved as a parent?
These uncertainties are common among parents healing from their childhood traumas while nurturing their own children. Our primary goal is to stop the cycle.
Before the birth of my son, I promised myself to avoid passing on my trauma. I would only become a parent once I felt assured I wouldn’t repeat previous errors. It seemed simple back then.
I committed to acknowledging his emotions. I would be present both physically and emotionally, showering him with compassion and love, giving him what every child deserves and what I once needed.
Yet doubt lingers. The discomfort of questioning whether I’m “doing it incorrectly.” I label this the Not Good Enough Stuff.
Regardless of the love I provide, that voice continues to resonate.
Do I concentrate too heavily on feelings? Should I allow him to manage friend challenges independently? When he’s upset, should I give him distance or remain nearby?
When I suspect a teacher is being unjust, do I step in or let it go? If he requires assistance, do I wait to offer it or extend help immediately?
Striving always for correctness is draining, revealing two fundamental fears.
Firstly, am I showing too much affection?
I consistently ask before I hug him.
Recently, after a tough day at school, I inquired, “Would you like a hug?”
Without even looking, he said, “No.”
Perplexed, I fought the instinct to comfort him as I had always wished to be comforted.
Instead, I asked, “Should I stay or offer you space?”
“Just sit there.”
So I sat, suppressing my urge to resolve matters as my thoughts raced.
Am I doing sufficient? Overdoing it? Am I mistaken?
This connects to my unfulfilled affection needs from childhood—something I once perceived as normal.
The first evening at my friend Molly’s, her mother embraced me, and I felt a warmth and safety I’d never experienced before. I longed for it.
I requested bedtime hugs from my mom, which ended in anger. She suggested I stay with Molly’s mom.
I share this not to blame her but to illustrate that she most likely never experienced affection to pass on. As a child, I misinterpreted her responses, learning that my needs were “excessive.”
These beliefs persist into adulthood, impacting parenting.
So when my son declines a hug, it triggers my Not Good Enough Stuff.
The second, more subtle fear: Am I urging him too much to share his feelings, causing him to seem weak?
It circles back to unfulfilled emotional needs from our own childhoods, leading us to try to shield our children from feeling that emptiness, despite lacking a role model.
Transitioning from Mississippi to Southern Oregon without a roadmap reflects what this healing journey feels like. Mistakes and frustrations arise.
We are aware of the kind of parent we aspire to be but lack the instruction, resulting in self-criticism after errors.
In our quest to fill our children’s emotional gaps, we fear overstepping, yet remember this when uncertainties surface.
More activities, opportunities, and possessions do not compare to fulfilling emotional needs. I have witnessed children in modest financial situations thrive emotionally.
I would have exchanged my belongings for security, acknowledgment, and love. That keeps me anchored.
Aim for connection, not flawless execution.
Errors are part of the journey. Achieving everything correctly isn’t. What truly matters is breaking old patterns.
Reflect, inquire, care, and adjust—these actions disrupt cycles.
You’re healing while nurturing a child. That’s far more important than perfection.