When the Past Shows Up in Our Parenting
Ya know how I said last month my daughter left for school? Well, I wasn’t empty nesting for long. My son is between houses and has moved in for a little bit while he looks for his next dwelling. It is terrific, and also slightly chaotic with a snake and a recalcitrant young feline in my small house, but we’re finding our way.
Last week, he did something so ordinary and insignificant, and yet, it sent me right back to being a kid with my dad. What the heck! Suddenly, I felt the same stress I carried then: the sense of being responsible for my dad and for his depression, the fear that if I didn’t “do the right thing,” something terrible would happen to him.
It was startling how quickly my body reacted, with tightness in my chest, worried thoughts, assumptions, and dread. My son is 21, highly competent and responsible, capable, healthy, and well. This was not about him; I wasn’t responding to him but was reacting from the part of me that was still a little girl looking for safety.
Luckily, I’m devoted to my ever-expanding toolbox. When I noticed my unsettled body sensations, I got curious, which led me to pause to check in with myself. What feelings are there? Allowing them just to be is hard for me. I like to fix sh*t, emotions included. A few other questions came next: What am I telling myself? What am I believing about him/me/the situation? Is what I’m telling myself true? The answer to that was a resounding no. This recognition allowed me to re-center, nurture that younger, scared part of myself, and return to the effective, thoughtful adult I actually am. And guess what? There wasn’t a problem at all; it was me creating meaning where there was none to be found.
We all carry echoes of our past—sometimes they whisper, sometimes they shout. And when they show up in parenting or in our primary relationships, it can be activating and disorienting. Every parent I know has had moments where they wonder, “Why did I react that way?”
Parenting asks us to practice again and again, catching ourselves, tending to old parts, and returning to connection. The good news is that every time we do this, we grow, we wake up, and return to our own authenticity a little bit more. By taking responsibility and nurturing ourselves, we become a safe harbor for our children to explore and live their most authentic lives—not the lives we imagine for them, but the ones that are truly theirs.
So if you’ve had one of those moments where your reaction surprised you, where you felt the tug of old wounds in the middle of present-day, know that you’re not alone. With compassion, practice, curiosity, and a little pause, we can keep choosing connection… again and again.
