Tag: family

Discernment or Loyalty?

Part of my authenticity was to speak my mind and way too fast . I had friends who called and we talked for long periods of time while watching our children , cooking a meal , having a coffee

Not having an adult invested in our family was hard ; single married mom .

So yes I am guilty of saying things that could have been trippy for our children and I’ve asked and received forgiveness from on high . 🙏🙏🙏

Love the shadow & the dark within

Love the Saint & the Sinner

With

The child who hears you gossip about friends and family is not learning about other people.
They are learning that the people we love are targets for criticism the moment they leave the room.

You think it’s just harmless venting. A quiet phone call while they play nearby.
You believe they don’t understand the adult complexities.
Let’s call it what it really is.
You are not just talking. You are teaching them your definition of loyalty.

In those moments, you teach them that affection and judgment can come from the same mouth.
You teach them that relationships are conditional, and trust is something that evaporates with distance.
You are damaging the very concept of a safe, authentic friendship.

This is how you raise an adult who is deeply insecure, always wondering what is being said about them when they walk away.
Or worse, an adult who perpetuates this cycle, unable to form genuine bonds because they only know how to connect through criticism.

Speak of others as if they are in the room.
Model the integrity you want your child to embody. The most powerful lesson on loyalty is taught in the whispers they were never meant to overhear.

Author: Arsalan Moin

A child’s Inner Experience

Why Do They Need to Keep Their Distance for So Long?”

Many estranged or distant adult children struggle with feelings that are hard for parents to see. Understanding these inner conflicts can help you better grasp why your child may keep their guard up, even if you’re longing for closeness.

From their perspective, some common fears and worries include:

“My parent is more interested in preserving their image of themselves as a good parent than in taking responsibility for the past.”

For many adult children, the deepest need is to feel that their pain is taken seriously. If they sense that a parent’s focus is on proving they were not at fault, rather than acknowledging the child’s experience, it can make reconciliation feel impossible. Even if you strongly disagree with their interpretation, the perception that you’re defending your position instead of hearing them can block closeness.

“If I’m kind to my parent, they’ll take that as a free pass for the things that bother me.”

Some adult children fear that showing warmth will erase or minimize their struggles. Being nice might feel like saying, “It wasn’t so bad after all.” For them, distance can be a way of keeping the past on the record.

“If I act warmly, it might look like the past doesn’t matter.”

Your child may want to feel understood without having to constantly restate their pain. If they sense that their kindness will be used as evidence that the past wasn’t as important, they may withhold affection as a way of insisting that their story still counts.

“It’s scary to let myself get close—I might feel how much I still need them, lower my guard, and get hurt again.”

Many estranged children still carry a longing for their parent’s love and approval. But closeness makes them vulnerable to disappointment, dependency or enmeshment. The act of staying distant can feel safer than those risks.

“It feels weak to admit or show how much love or dependence I still feel for them.”

Some adult children believe that acknowledging their love or need makes them powerless, or undermines the independence they’ve worked so hard to establish. What looks like coldness may actually be self-protection.

What This Means for Parents

It’s important to remember that these fears don’t necessarily reflect the whole truth about you as a parent—they reflect your child’s inner experience. That distinction matters, because it can help you respond without defensiveness.

If you need help in understanding your child’s estrangement, join us TONIGHT for

“What Could They Be Thinking??”

Tuesday Sep2 at 430 Pacific

Register here https://drjoshuacoleman.as.me/Whatcouldtheybethinking

Born to be whole

The Cost of Being the Emotional Healer in a Dysfunctional Family.

When a family system is built on silence, suppression, or survival,

someone always gets assigned the unspoken role of the healer.

Not because they were ready —

but because they were willing.

Willing to listen.

Willing to soothe.

Willing to become emotionally available in a system that gave them nothing in return.

If this was you,

you became the stabilizer.

The peacekeeper.

The one who “understood.”

You decoded moods like a second language.

You anticipated everyone’s emotional needs — while yours became invisible.

And here’s the tragic psychology of it:

In many trauma-bonded families,

the child who senses the most becomes responsible for the most.

Not by force — but by emotional delegation.

You were praised for your maturity,

not realizing that “maturity” was code for self-abandonment.

Because what they called “wise beyond your years”

was really a child performing as a therapist.

According to Internal Family Systems (IFS),

a part of you became a manager —

tasked with keeping everyone else okay

so the system didn’t collapse.

But this comes at a cost:

The healer is rarely allowed to break.

The one who absorbs becomes the one who disappears.

And the more you regulated the chaos around you,

the less they noticed the storm INSIDE YOU.

Jungian theory would call this a fracture of individuation —

when your identity becomes fused with function.

You don’t know who you are without fixing someone.

But here’s the truth they never told you:

Healing isn’t your job.

Your nervous system was never meant to be the family’s emotional regulator.

You were meant to be a child.

Not a counsellor.

Not a mirror.

Not a bandage for generational wounds.

And now that you’re older,

you don’t owe anyone the version of you that kept them comfortable.

You can set it down.

The soothing.

The translating.

The pretending you’re fine.

You’re allowed to fall apart.

To be held.

To rebuild an identity that isn’t built on being useful.

Being the healer gave you survival.

But it’s not who you are.

You’re not their anchor.

You’re not their lifeboat.

You’re not the glue that holds the dysfunction in place.

You’re the one who gets to step out of the role.

Who gets to be more than what they needed from you.

Who gets to begin again — on your terms.

You were not born to be their solution.

You were born to be whole.