The Revolutionary Self-Love of Seeing My Parents As People, Not Perpetrators

I saw a Facebook post about the need to forgive parents for the traumas they caused their children. It hit me hard, both as an adult from a traumatic childhood and as a mother who could never imagine raising children the way my parents raised me. It has lingered in the back of my mind; so, since the topic hit me like a ton of bricks when I saw it, I wanted to preserve it here, with a snippet of my own journey through healing parental trauma.

Learning to see my parents as people—allowing them to transition from partial perpetrators of my trauma to traumatized people in their own right—was a long, difficult process. Each new revelation of my childhood held me down and shoved me backward even as character development and maturity adjusted my outlook, allowing me to keep going.

My parents were truly horrible; they were neglectful, dishonest, resentful, emotionally unavailable. They divorced, then married partners who were violent and mentally unstable. Instead of protecting me (and my siblings), they allowed us to see and experience things no child ever should. They put themselves first in everything, even when they could’ve done better.

For years, I thought it was just me, just a grown kid seeing things through a self-centered, perhaps naive lens. But then I found myself sitting in trauma therapy, recounting my story. I’ll never forget the expression on my therapist's face; she sat back in her chair, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. All she could say was, “Oh, wow.” She was a trauma specialist. And I had enough to surprise her. To be honest, that surprised me.

But being heard changed everything. It wasn’t just validation; it was the beginning of letting go of anger and emotional pain. It was a step toward healing I didn't even hope was possible anymore, and in that healing, I found grace to look at my parents in new ways. Not just parent to child, but human to human, and the more I learned about where they came from and explored the traumas they experienced, the more I felt sorry for them. They didn’t have it as bad as I did, but they had their own pain—and they lived in a different time, one with very little space for healing or acceptance of the search for mental wellness.

They never had the tools to break free of those emotional chains, or the capacity to see how their pain poured over my brothers and I like poison. Understanding didn’t erase what they did, but it gave me compassion—not just for them, but for myself. That wild anger? That bitter, clinging resentment? Symptoms of a trauma cycle that began long before my brothers and I were born. And I decided it would stop with me.

As a mother, this has a much deeper meaning; every moment of my life, I'm stretching against the internal pressure, armored up and fighting to give my children a better life than I had. One where we talk openly about trauma and mental wellness, not because it's some badge of honor, but because you can't clean up a mess in the dark. I want my daughters to feel safe, seen, and supported. To know they're not alone in their struggles. I want to protect them from the things I experienced, and I want them to understand that it's okay to be vulnerable, because healing starts with acknowledgment.

I won’t pretend I’ve always succeeded. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve had moments where my past crept into my parenting. But I’ve been honest with my daughters about my challenges; I’ve shared my story, not to seek pity or attention but to plant the seeds of a better cycle, where emotional wellness and understanding take precedence over silence and shame.

It's more than forgiving my parents for the mess they made of my past. It’s taking responsibility for my present, and being intentional about how I shape the future for my children. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and creating a new legacy—one where love, compassion, and openness are the foundation. The cycle stops here. Not just for me, but for the next generation.

This week was a bit of a draw on the writing front. I hate that I didn't finish SFFF Chapter 17, but I loved playing around with a transcript for the upcoming trial in the final chapters of this novel. Given my personal background, I'm sure it's no surprise that my favorite go-to binge-watch is Law& Order: SVU, but watching TV (or reading fiction) is only the upper crust of what really goes down in a courtroom.

Part of why I didn't hit my writing goal this week (finishing that chapter) is that I spent some time digging into the real-life laws that govern cases like the one portrayed in the Freedom Series, which helped me dig deeper into Christine's mind and heart. I feel more ready to tackle the weight of writing this portion of the story now, armed with realism and the emotional depth Christine deserves. I'm so ready to see this in reader's hands!

In the meantime, we're twenty-nine weeks away from the release of the second-edition FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM! I hope to have everything set up for pre-orders by the end of this month, I'm brainstorming ideas for a release-day event, and if I ever find a spare moment, I'd love to design some merch. If I can get it all done, what would y'all like to see?

Feel free to drop your suggestions in the comments, and until next week's update...