Raising and launching children while working through childhood trauma

With our 22 year old daughter’s recent moving out of the house, we are on the verge of being complete empty nesters. Only one 22 year old still at home, but between work, school, studying and friends we see him mostly in passing - though the late night conversations over snacks in the kitchen keep this momma’s heart happy. And this time, I am ready – which I wasn’t able to say when our 1st and 2nd quietly left home to get married 5 and 6 years ago. There were tears, lots of disbelief at how fast all of those years went, and most of all an emptiness – like a part of my identity was leaving with them. Lots of work has happened between then and now, and now, I’m ready.

Another added layer to this time in my life is that I am a childhood CPTSD survivor who grew up in a very chaotic, enmeshed, neglectful home. Angry outbursts, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, and being parentified were the water I swam in, these things were normal to me. On the outside and on paper, our family looked great, and of course because this was my normal, it took me years to figure out that the problem did not originate with me. I knew I wanted more for my family and my children, and though I didn’t know the term at the time – I know now that both my father and mother’s family suffered from generation after generation of trauma. And I also knew that I wanted that to end with me.

I really did not know how to be a mom, I did not have an example to emulate, so having children was a scary prospect for me. My husband and I married young and were blessed with 8 years of marriage before our first child arrived, thank you God and infertility! I was given those 8 years to grow up and to begin to heal. Some of the “gifts” of my trauma – perfectionism, workaholicness and hyperfocus, came in handy while trying to figure out what my idea of being a “good enough” mom looked like. I was far from the perfect mom, but I can say that I did my best. I parented with the future in mind – the future relationships I wanted to have with my kids and the future people they would be. They are awesome adults today - if I can say that without sounding prideful, and I love the strong, independent, and successful people they are. Most of all, I love that we still talk and laugh and go on vacations and enjoy being with each other. They have made awesome choices in lifemates, and I can’t be more proud of all of them.

I was barely done patting myself on the back for the wonderful job I’d done as a mom when my 26 year-old daughter called and our conversation took the turn that I had most feared. I have to preface this by saying that she lives in AZ with her husband, and I LOVE our conversations! On this call we started to reminisce, and then she began to ask me things like - if I remembered the time when…. Or how I always used to… or how sad she felt when I … or how she felt unseen when… or how she always got blamed for… or how hard it was for her to have to be the responsible one when I was trying to manage her brother.

Yikes – I knew how I responded was going to be one of those defining moments in our relationship. But the CPTSD survivor in me was feeling the need to defend herself from this attack from this “ungrateful child” (where did that come from?) who had it so much better than me. A part of me wanted to point out what I did better as a mom than my mom. A part wanted her to know how I didn’t abuse her and neglect her in the ways I had been. Another part wanted to explain CPTSD flashbacks and how dissociated I was during much of her childhood – it was my safest coping mechanism for stress, but when it was happening – connection was lost, even from my children. I was outside of my window of tolerance ALL.THE.TIME. Those angry outbursts she experienced were just me trying to protect her from my own childhood – which in my mind, for that small time, was still happening…

Instead, I listened. I tried to see her childhood from her point of view and I cried for the unfairness of it. That she had a mom who couldn’t be what she needed and couldn’t see what she needed at the time. I apologized for my not knowing, and for my part in her pain. And I stayed present – as hard as it was. Oh, how difficult and painful it is to be healing from my own childhood trauma while also owning up to the things I did as a parent, and helping my children heal from theirs. But, what a beautifully healing gift at the same time, for both of us.

As the call wound down, my daughter laughed and made a comment how our conversations go down these serious paths sometimes and she started talking about something fun, and we ended on a happy note. I sent a text later thanking her for talking to me, and that I loved her. She responded with “Thanks for calling me!! I always love getting to talk to you. Love you so much!!” I was humbled and amazed at my beautiful, thoughtful daughter’s ability to touch on painful subjects, talk about them, and move on. What an example of relationship rupture, repair and back to relationship. This was not an option in my family of origin, and I did not have the freedom to speak my thoughts and feelings to my mother and stay in relationship. How amazing that my own children feel safe enough with me that they can. I thought that healing generational trauma would look different than this – I thought it meant no ruptures. Now I realize the truth – rupture is inevitable, we are all human. Healing generational trauma is the ability to hold space during the rupture for the healing work of repair, and helping your people feel safe with you during the repair. Oh, what a healing gift my children are to me, and how I grieve that my parents did not and could not see that truth.

Beth lives with her husband of 36 years, their youngest son, two standard Poodles - Scooby and Winston, and Cleo the Bernedoodle, in Middle Georgia. She is the financial controller of their 3 family businesses, has a Masters Degree in Biblical Counseling, and has a passion for helping people recover from childhood trauma.