You're allowed to love your parents and grieve what they couldn't give you

You're allowed to love your mom or dad and grieve what they couldn't give you.

Grieving what your parents couldn't give you doesn't make you ungrateful. Still, most of us have a lightning-fast internal pivot. You catch yourself mid-sentence, swallow the lump in your throat, and offer up excuses.

"But she did her best."

"He worked so hard."

"I had a roof over my head."

"It wasn't bad enough"

It's as if we're all operating under some invisible contract that says we aren't allowed to be wounded by the people who raised us, because, by some math of suffering, our wounds aren't "bad enough."

We compare our childhoods to someone else's nightmare and decide that our own reality doesn't deserve to take up space.

Somewhere along the way you picked up the idea that if it wasn't bad enough, you don't get to be hurt by it.

The pivot

You're standing at the sink telling a friend about a phone call with your mother, and halfway through the sentence you hear yourself start defending her.

It's a reflex by now. The swallow, the quick correction, the little laugh on the end so nobody worries about you.

Then you hand over the part that lets everybody off the hook.

Why "but" erases your half of the story

"But" is a cancelling word. Whatever sits in front of it doesn't survive to the end of the sentence, and it's always your half that gets deleted. "And" lets both things stand.

Try it out loud:

She did the best she could with what she had… and I was lonely in that house.

He worked six days a week… and I don't remember him ever asking how I was.

Nobody ever laid a hand on me… and I was scared a lot.

Say those out loud and notice what didn't happen. Nothing got taken away from anybody.

Feelings aren't a zero-sum game. You don't have to trade your gratitude for your grief, or your love for your honesty.

How childhood wounds show up in your relationships now

When you shove those experiences into a dark corner (the loneliness, the emotional distance, the specific way you had to shrink yourself to fit into their world) you aren't actually protecting your parents.

You're just forcing yourself to carry a ghost, and ghosts are heavy. When you don't let yourself feel the weight of those missing pieces, they eventually start to sneak out in the places where you're trying to be the most present.

In the way you hold back with your partner. How you struggle to set a boundary with a friend. Why you panic the moment you sense someone might be pulling away from you.

The habit doesn't stay back there with them. It's in how long you wait before you say you're upset. It's in how much evidence you collect before you'll let yourself call something unfair. It's in how fast you go quiet when someone you love gets distant.

Both sentences can live in the same room

The truth is rarely a binary choice. It is usually a messy, tangled knot of both things.

Yes, they might have been doing the best they could with the tools they had, and that "best" still didn't give you what you needed to feel seen, safe, or enough.

Both of those sentences can live in the same room. Neither one cancels the other.

Naming it means you're finally being honest about your own history, so it stops dictating your present. You are allowed to stop tidying up your own heart to make other people more comfortable, even parents who are long gone or perfectly well-intentioned.

Where to begin

One honest note, because I'd say this to you in the room: you don't have to say any of this to the person it's about. Nobody else has to hear it. For a lot of people it's never been said out loud anywhere, not even in their own head.

If something stirs as you read this, slow down for a second. Pause. Breathe. Put your hand on your chest.

How does your body feel right now?

How old do you feel in this moment?

What did you need back then that you could give yourself now?

You've had a lifetime of practice at the pivot. You're allowed to practise the other thing, and you don't have to do it alone.

So let's put the "but" away for a second. If you didn't have to qualify it, if you didn't have to defend them or minimize your experience to prove you're a good person… what's the version of the story you've been holding back?

I work online across Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia, in English and French. Read more about how I work or meet me here. When you're ready, book a Java Chat: fifteen free minutes, bring your coffee.

Frequently asked questions

Can I be hurt by my childhood if nothing "bad" happened?

Yes. Loneliness, emotional distance, or having to shrink yourself to keep the peace can leave a real mark, even in a home where you were fed, housed and loved.

Does healing from childhood mean confronting my parents?

No. Many people never say any of it to the person it's about. The work is being honest with yourself, so the old story stops running your relationships now.

Why do I panic when someone pulls away?

Old patterns from childhood often show up in adult relationships: waiting too long to say you're upset, going quiet when someone gets distant, or panicking at the first sign of distance. Therapy can help you notice the pattern and respond differently.

If this is you, book a Java Chat, bring your coffee.