Generational Trauma

Most people who know me as an adult likely see me as abrasive, perhaps even mean—someone who’s always ready for a fight. My reserved, almost standoffish demeanor probably doesn’t help, but the truth is, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always been timid and withdrawn, not naturally personable. I can open up to those I’ve known and trusted for years, but even then, it’s a struggle. Instead, I’ve often bottled up my emotions for days, weeks, sometimes even years. These emotions sometimes escape in small bursts of anger and frustration. Fortunately—and unfortunately—my wife can sense when I’m battling something inside and knows how to gently coax me into opening up, so I can keep going.

Recently, I’ve come to understand more about generational trauma—the idea that the wounds our parents carry can unintentionally be passed down to us. For years, I’ve wondered why I struggle so much with trust, why anxiety weighs on me, why I often feel down and prefer solitude, even when I have no clear reason to. 

As I look back, most of my childhood and teenage memories are shadowed by negativity. My relationship with my parents has been rocky for the majority of my life. Despite their best intentions, my parents shared far too much of their own traumas with me, the oldest of four. I was quiet and timid, absorbing everything they told me, no matter how heavy. I wanted to appear strong for them since I knew they needed someone to vent to, but I was simply not the right person for this. This oversharing took a toll on me. No child should witness their parents’ constant fighting, or hear repeatedly that a divorce is looming, or be burdened with the knowledge that the family is struggling to make ends meet. This relentless psychological strain over two decades shaped me into the broken person I am today.

I’ve been with my wife since 2011, and my brokenness has caused difficult times in our relationship. It wasn’t until a few years ago that she finally, after years of tireless effort, broke through my defenses and helped me confront my past traumas, starting the process of healing. Honestly, I’m incredibly fortunate to have a wife like her—someone who stood by me through my darkest times and never once gave up on me. It was just before we became pregnant with our son that I began to break free from this curse that had defined me for so long.

While I’ve changed in many ways and am noticeably happier more often, I still feel that a part of that darkness lingers inside me, occasionally resurfacing. But with the love and support of my wife and our two beautiful children, I can quickly push it back down and return to the person I strive to be. I still find it hard to trust others, and I may still come across as unapproachable or unfriendly. For the most part, my outward appearance is just that—an appearance. Inside, I’m truly happy, even if my face doesn’t always show it.

Now, my struggles revolve around my children and their well-being. I’m committed to breaking this cycle of generational trauma by being a better person for my family. I don’t want my children to grow up with the burdens I carried—to worry about finances, to witness arguments, or to be weighed down by emotional or psychological scars from overshared information. I want them to feel loved, safe, and secure with their parents, to be open and able to make friends with ease. I want them to be better than I was, better than I am now.

Though this blog may feel raw, it is essential to grasp the profound impact of generational trauma. This kind of trauma is all too real, and its effects can be deeply damaging—to yourself, your family, and those around you. I urge anyone reading this week’s blog to confront the demons that may stem from such trauma and to take the necessary steps toward healing. The sooner you can identify the root of these issues, the sooner you can begin the journey toward healing and becoming a better, more contented person. Take care.