Forgiving Our Parents: Healing the Wounds We Didn’t Know We Still Carried

“You never stop being someone’s child… even when you’re long past childhood.”

That quiet truth has lived in my bones for years. And maybe it’s lived in yours, too.

This blog isn’t about blame. It’s not about resentment. It’s about something far more radical—something harder and more freeing: Healing. Integration. Forgiveness.

Not the performative kind. Not the “I guess I forgive you” kind. I’m talking about the kind of forgiveness that actually changes you. The kind that brings peace to old wars still echoing inside your body. The kind that helps you drop the weight of carrying pain you didn’t ask for—and make space for something better: compassion, freedom, and self-trust.

The Wounds We Don’t Talk About

I love my parents. Truly. They are amazing in many ways. They did the best they could with what they had.

But sometimes love gets tangled in criticism, silence, or control. Sometimes love comes in forms that don’t feel like love at all.

And if I’m honest, some of those tangled forms of love shaped who I became.

They left scars that weren’t always visible—but still drove my behavior, my relationships, my self-image.

And maybe, like me, you’ve found yourself wondering:

• Why do I feel like I’m not enough?

• Why do I feel guilty setting boundaries?

• Why does their voice still echo in my head long after I’ve grown up and moved out?

Because even if the words are gone, the beliefs they planted still grow roots inside us. And those beliefs often have very little to do with truth—and more to do with our interpretation of how we were treated.

When Love Comes in a Different Language

Here’s something it’s taken me decades to understand:

Sometimes our parents did love us… they just didn’t know how to show it the way we needed.

They didn’t say “I’m proud of you” or “I see how hard you’re trying.”

They didn’t wrap us in emotional warmth or validate our struggles.

But maybe…

They paid the bills when we needed help.

They silently fixed our car or cooked our favorite meal.

Was it the love we longed for or needed?

No, not always.

But was it love, in the only language they knew how to speak?

Often, yes.

That doesn’t make everything okay. But it adds complexity to the relationship. And sometimes, it softens our grief just enough to start healing.

It’s Not Just What Happened—It’s What We Made It Mean

One of the most transformative things I’ve ever learned is this:

It’s not reality that creates our suffering. It’s our interpretation of reality.

Let that sink in.

What if it wasn’t the absence of words like “I’m proud of you” that hurt most—but the meaning we assigned to that absence: “I must not be worth loving.”

What if it wasn’t the criticism itself—but our interpretation: “I’m a disappointment.”

The pain is real, no question. But sometimes it’s amplified by the meaning our mind adds in the absence of clarity or reassurance.

And this is where forgiveness begins—not in erasing the past, but in challenging the conclusions we drew from it.

Parenting With Old Bruises

When I became a parent, I saw just how easy it is to unintentionally pass those meanings forward.

I said things I wish I hadn’t. I missed signals. I made promises I didn’t keep. I was distracted when I should have been present. I was critical when my kids needed empathy. Not because I didn’t love them—but because I was parenting with a bruised blueprint.

We all are.

And that’s why this journey isn’t about blame. It’s about compassion—for our parents, and for ourselves.

Forgiveness Is a Doorway, Not a Denial

Forgiveness is not a denial of pain -It’s a decision to stop letting that pain run your life.

It’s not about letting anyone off the hook - It’s about letting yourself off the hook—from guilt, from resentment, from the inner critic that’s been wearing your parent’s voice like a mask.

Forgiveness isn’t about fixing the past. It’s about not letting the past fix you in place.

What’s In It for You?

When you do this inner work, you begin to:

• Understand your parents without excusing their behavior.

• Separate your story from the one you inherited.

• Release guilt, resentment, and shame that was never yours to carry.

• Experience emotional freedom.

• Create relationships from a place of authenticity, not woundedness.

• Parent with intention, not reaction.

How to Start Healing and Forgiving

Here are some reflection points and practices that have helped me—maybe they’ll help you, too:

1. Honor the Hurt Without Becoming It

Acknowledge the pain without letting it define you. You can say, “That wasn’t okay,” and still choose not to carry it forever.

Journal: What hurt me growing up that I still carry today? What do I want to do with that pain now—cling to it, or compost it into wisdom?

2. Look for Love in Unfamiliar Places

Consider the ways your parents may have shown love differently than you hoped. Were they showing up in actions more than words? Were they trying—even imperfectly?

Reflection: Where did I miss the love that was there, just not in the form I expected?

3. Challenge the Old Beliefs

Just because your parent was critical doesn’t mean you’re inadequate. Just because they were silent doesn’t mean you were invisible.

Exercise: Write down a painful belief you inherited. Now write a kinder, truer belief beside it.

4. Reframe the Narrative

Try seeing your parent not as a perfect caregiver who failed, but as a flawed human doing the best they could—with their own traumas, limitations, and fears.

Prompt: What might have been going on beneath their behavior? What story were they living that shaped the way they loved?

5. Give Yourself the Love You Wanted

You might never get the apology, the validation, or the moment you needed. But you can give it to yourself now.

Practice: Write a letter to your inner child. Tell them what they needed to hear. Say it all. Say it with tenderness.

6. Forgive as an Act of Freedom

Forgive not because they earned it—but because you deserve peace.

Mantra: “I release what no longer serves me. I choose to live from healing, not from hurt.”

This Isn’t About Perfection. It’s About Peace.

I’ve stopped waiting for perfect words from my parents.

I’ve stopped needing to rewrite our whole story.

What I’ve started doing instead… is forgiving. Integrating.

Choosing peace over perfection. Wholeness over resentment.

And you can too.

If you’ve been walking around carrying hurt, waiting for someone to come back and fix it, I want to gently offer this:

You can begin healing without their permission. You can begin forgiving without their apology. You can begin living differently—starting today.

Because the cycle doesn’t stop when your parents change.

It stops when you do.

With compassion.

With boundaries.

With grace.

With courage.

You’ve got that in you. I promise.

And you don’t have to do it perfectly.

You just to begin.