“The greatest gift you can give your child is your treat.” ~ Dr. Shefali Mail
Am I doing too much or not enough?
Am I beating my baby? Am I too difficult with my children? Am I too gentle? Do I spend enough time with my children? Am I helping too much? Should I help more?
Will my son benefit from talking about his feelings? Will my daughter be considered too bossy because she has boundaries? What else should I do as a parent? Or less?
These are questions that flood the minds of parents with childhood trauma and trying to heal while parents. Our main goal is simple: do not do to our children what has been done to us.
I knew that was my goal before I had my son. I remember that I would not have children until I recovered from the injuries I had grown up with. If you’re like me, you’re probably not that hard.
There is no way I can deny my child’s feelings. I will be present mentally and physically. No matter what he goes through, I will be compassionate, nurturing, loving and unconditional.
That’s what kids need and deserve. It’s what I need and deserve.
But then the question began. Doubt. Second constant prediction. That voice, which silently asks if you did it wrong, is what I call bad enough.
No matter how much I do love, that voice still comes out.
Am I talking too much about emotions? Should I let him handle things with his friends on his own? When he gets upset and says he needs space, do I leave?
When I think a teacher is doing something wrong, do I go in or leave him? If I know he needs help, do I wait for him to ask or do I offer it?
Tired of trying to do it all the time. When I actually sit with it, I notice two core fears under everything.
First: Do I give my children too much love?
I always ask him if he wants a hug before giving one.
The other day he was upset about something that happened at school. I sat next to him and asked, “Do you want a hug?”
He did not even look at me. “No”
I paused, not sure what to do next. Every part of me wanted to pull him in to comfort him the way I always wanted to but could not.
Instead, I asked, “Do you want me to sit with you or give you a place?”
“Just sit there”
So I did. I sat next to him in silence, struggling to correct it, saying something, doing more, and my heart was pounding.
Am I doing enough?
Am I doing too much?
Am I wrong?
That moment touched something deeper in me because love and comfort were not what I had as a child. For a long time, I thought it was normal.
That belief began to change the first time I spent the night at my friend Molly’s house. Before going to bed, her mom hugged me.
I remember it was one of the best feelings I have ever had. It feels safe, warm and comfortable. I want it more.
So the next night I told my mother what had happened. I asked if she would start hugging me at bedtime. That does not work well.
She was provoked and angry. She told me that if I wanted a mother like Molly’s, I could go live with her.
I do not share this to embarrass my mother. She was also not loved or nurtured. I do not think she knows how to give something she has never had.
But as a child I did not understand that. What I learned instead was that my needs were too much.
Those beliefs are not just lost when we grow up. They follow us in adulthood, communicating to parents.
So now when my son says no to hugs, it doesn’t just feel like a simple hobby.
It touches on the old. And that’s where bad things get worse.
The second fear under all of this is calmer, but only stronger: Do I push him too much to talk about his feelings? Do I consider him weak?
Why do we do this to ourselves? Like many things, it goes back to childhood.
We have unmet mental needs and now we are trying to make sure that our children do not experience the same emptiness. That’s a beautiful story.
But there is an important problem. We have never shown how to do this. It’s like trying to get somewhere without a map.
A few years ago my family and I moved from Mississippi to the mountains of South Oregon. Now imagine creating that drive without directions, without GPS and without a guide.
Will you get there eventually? Probably. Will you go astray and feel stressed along the way? Absolutely.
That’s what feels like.
We know what kind of parents we want to be. We just do not have a clear path for the way to get there. So we make a mistake and then we open ourselves up for it.
We try so hard to give our children what we do not have that we begin to question if we correct too much. But this is something that makes me when that voice is loud.
We often think we need to give our children more. More activities. More opportunities. More things.
But I have seen children with very little finances whose emotional needs are met and they are more than okay. They are more mentally healthy than most children.
I also knew the feeling of having things but not the love, comfort and upbringing that really matters.
If I am honest, I will sacrifice what I have to feel safe, seen and loved. That reminder brings me back to what matters.
Not perfect. Connection.
Of course we will be wrong. That is inevitable. And yes, in some ways we will misunderstand. But this is what makes the difference.
You are doing things that your parents did not do. You reflect. You ask. You care. You are willing to change.
You are working on self-medication while raising your child. That’s more important than getting everything right.
If I had to bet, I would say you are doing something meaningful that your children will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Maybe you apologize when you mess up. Maybe you listen instead of rejecting. Maybe you try again the next day. Those things are not small.
Sometimes I lose my children. I hate acknowledging it, but it is true. During that time I heard echoes of how I grew up, and sometimes I recounted things I had heard as a dangerous childhood.
But I also noticed it. Sometimes later, sometimes in the present. That understanding allowed me to fix, and fix was more of a problem than perfection.
When we fix things with our kids, we teach them that mistakes are okay. We teach them how to be responsible, how to reconnect, and how to build healthy relationships.
That’s something many of us have never been taught, and it changes everything. So when you start asking yourself again, take a step back.
Remember you are doing something incredibly difficult. You are raising children in a way you have never been before.
You are learning when you go. You are choosing something different. That’s more important than doing it perfectly. You deserve sympathy.
You always do. And now you have to give yourself some mercy.
About Mary Beth Fox
Mary Beth Fox is a licensed career counselor, speaker and author who helps people understand and treat the root causes of bad childhood feelings. Her work focuses on how this belief expresses anxiety, relationships, and self-doubt. She is the author of a forthcoming book. Bad Things: Finding Your Root to Get Back to Who You Want to Be. Watch theinnerchildtherapist.comGet her free advice, Why do you feel “not good enough”And connect with her Instagram, FacebookAnd TikTok.
