Changing Your Child's
Emotional Inheritance
Changing Your Child's
Emotional Inheritance
Emotional Inheritance
A few months ago, a coaching client I’ll call Mary shared her frustration about her 11-year-old son, Brian. Ever since her divorce, parenting had become more challenging.
Every day, Brian argued against Mary's screen time rules: “You’re so controlling! Why can't you be as laid back as dad?"
He complained about the meals she provided: “Dad makes stuff I actually want to eat!”
Homework was a constant power struggle, as were showers, chores, and getting Brian to put his dirty clothes in the hamper.
Mary knew Brian missed her when he was with his dad. She knew how sad he felt when he had to say goodbye to his dad to come back to her. She felt a great depth of tenderness for her son’s grief.
Every day, Brian argued against Mary's screen time rules: “You’re so controlling! Why can't you be as laid back as dad?"
He complained about the meals she provided: “Dad makes stuff I actually want to eat!”
Homework was a constant power struggle, as were showers, chores, and getting Brian to put his dirty clothes in the hamper.
Mary knew Brian missed her when he was with his dad. She knew how sad he felt when he had to say goodbye to his dad to come back to her. She felt a great depth of tenderness for her son’s grief.
But when Brian became rude and defiant, she quickly found herself enraged.
“I know he’s hurting, but when he’s disrespectful, I lose it. I quickly start yelling, threatening, and punishing. I can’t stop myself!”
When Mary discovered my podcast, she had resonated with the idea of being the Captain of the Ship—staying calm and steady.
But, she confessed, “In the heat of the moment, I find it impossible to avoid taking his rude behavior personally. All my good intentions fly out the window..”
I assured Mary that she wasn’t alone, sharing something I’d learned in my 40 years of working with families:
No amount of wisdom or advice can override the patterns we absorbed in childhood. When something unresolved gets triggered in us, our automatic reactions take over….until we address those unhealed places we carry inside.
This is why becoming the calm Captain of the ship isn’t just about learning techniques—it’s about unlearning old patterns.
It’s about healing the parts of ourselves that get in the way of showing up as the calm, steady presence our children need.
“I know he’s hurting, but when he’s disrespectful, I lose it. I quickly start yelling, threatening, and punishing. I can’t stop myself!”
When Mary discovered my podcast, she had resonated with the idea of being the Captain of the Ship—staying calm and steady.
But, she confessed, “In the heat of the moment, I find it impossible to avoid taking his rude behavior personally. All my good intentions fly out the window..”
I assured Mary that she wasn’t alone, sharing something I’d learned in my 40 years of working with families:
No amount of wisdom or advice can override the patterns we absorbed in childhood. When something unresolved gets triggered in us, our automatic reactions take over….until we address those unhealed places we carry inside.
This is why becoming the calm Captain of the ship isn’t just about learning techniques—it’s about unlearning old patterns.
It’s about healing the parts of ourselves that get in the way of showing up as the calm, steady presence our children need.
And that kind of change doesn’t happen through willpower alone. It takes reflection, practice, and support.
If you find yourself moving toward anger or dysregulation with your kids, pause and ask yourself: What’s happening here? Is this about my child, or is something older and deeper getting triggered?
I asked Mary what childhood memories surfaced when she thought about a recent argument with Brian. She sat quietly for a moment before saying, “When he’s rude and defiant, it reminds me of how tough my dad was on me. Nothing I did was good enough. I was desperate for dad’s approval, and felt hurt when he put me down. I think Brian’s behavior stirs up those old feelings—that insecurity and longing to know that I’m good enough.”
I acknowledged how painful that must have been for her as a young child and invited Mary to use her imagination to offer compassion to that younger version of herself. As she softened into the sorrow beneath her anger, her eyes filled with tears.
“I see how those old feelings rush in when Brian criticizes me or complains that nothing I do is good enough,” she said. “That anger is right below the surface—but it’s probably much more about my dad than my little boy.”
I’ve had hundreds of sessions like this one, and every single time, I’m touched by what I witness as parents begin to offer healing to the younger, more vulnerable versions of themselves.
We all want calm, connected relationships with our children, but sometimes, we need more than just good advice.
We need to use those small upsets as opportunities to reach back in time to offer ourselves the love, comfort, and reassurance we needed–and deserved– as children.
When we do this work, we don’t just improve our parenting. We change the emotional inheritance we pass down to our children.
I’ve had hundreds of sessions like this one, and every single time, I’m touched by what I witness as parents begin to offer healing to the younger, more vulnerable versions of themselves.
We all want calm, connected relationships with our children, but sometimes, we need more than just good advice.
We need to use those small upsets as opportunities to reach back in time to offer ourselves the love, comfort, and reassurance we needed–and deserved– as children.
When we do this work, we don’t just improve our parenting. We change the emotional inheritance we pass down to our children.
A few months ago, a coaching client I’ll call Mary shared her frustration about her 11-year-old son, Brian. Ever since her divorce, parenting had become more challenging.
Every day, Brian argued against Mary's screen time rules: “You’re so controlling! Why can't you be as laid back as dad?"
He complained about the meals she provided: “Dad makes stuff I actually want to eat!”
Homework was a constant power struggle, as were showers, chores, and getting Brian to put his dirty clothes in the hamper.
Mary knew Brian missed her when he was with his dad. She knew how sad he felt when he had to say goodbye to his dad to come back to her. She felt a great depth of tenderness for her son’s grief.
Every day, Brian argued against Mary's screen time rules: “You’re so controlling! Why can't you be as laid back as dad?"
He complained about the meals she provided: “Dad makes stuff I actually want to eat!”
Homework was a constant power struggle, as were showers, chores, and getting Brian to put his dirty clothes in the hamper.
Mary knew Brian missed her when he was with his dad. She knew how sad he felt when he had to say goodbye to his dad to come back to her. She felt a great depth of tenderness for her son’s grief.
But when Brian became rude and defiant, she quickly found herself enraged.
“I know he’s hurting, but when he’s disrespectful, I lose it. I quickly start yelling, threatening, and punishing. I can’t stop myself!”
When Mary discovered my podcast, she had resonated with the idea of being the Captain of the Ship—staying calm and steady.
But, she confessed, “In the heat of the moment, I find it impossible to avoid taking his rude behavior personally. All my good intentions fly out the window..”
I assured Mary that she wasn’t alone, sharing something I’d learned in my 40 years of working with families:
No amount of wisdom or advice can override the patterns we absorbed in childhood. When something unresolved gets triggered in us, our automatic reactions take over….until we address those unhealed places we carry inside.
This is why becoming the calm Captain of the ship isn’t just about learning techniques—it’s about unlearning old patterns.
It’s about healing the parts of ourselves that get in the way of showing up as the calm, steady presence our children need.
“I know he’s hurting, but when he’s disrespectful, I lose it. I quickly start yelling, threatening, and punishing. I can’t stop myself!”
When Mary discovered my podcast, she had resonated with the idea of being the Captain of the Ship—staying calm and steady.
But, she confessed, “In the heat of the moment, I find it impossible to avoid taking his rude behavior personally. All my good intentions fly out the window..”
I assured Mary that she wasn’t alone, sharing something I’d learned in my 40 years of working with families:
No amount of wisdom or advice can override the patterns we absorbed in childhood. When something unresolved gets triggered in us, our automatic reactions take over….until we address those unhealed places we carry inside.
This is why becoming the calm Captain of the ship isn’t just about learning techniques—it’s about unlearning old patterns.
It’s about healing the parts of ourselves that get in the way of showing up as the calm, steady presence our children need.
And that kind of change doesn’t happen through willpower alone. It takes reflection, practice, and support.
If you find yourself moving toward anger or dysregulation with your kids, pause and ask yourself: What’s happening here? Is this about my child, or is something older and deeper getting triggered?
I asked Mary what childhood memories surfaced when she thought about a recent argument with Brian. She sat quietly for a moment before saying, “When he’s rude and defiant, it reminds me of how tough my dad was on me. Nothing I did was good enough. I was desperate for dad’s approval, and felt hurt when he put me down. I think Brian’s behavior stirs up those old feelings—that insecurity and longing to know that I’m good enough.”
I acknowledged how painful that must have been for her as a young child and invited Mary to use her imagination to offer compassion to that younger version of herself. As she softened into the sorrow beneath her anger, her eyes filled with tears.
“I see how those old feelings rush in when Brian criticizes me or complains that nothing I do is good enough,” she said. “That anger is right below the surface—but it’s probably much more about my dad than my little boy.”
I’ve had hundreds of sessions like this one, and every single time, I’m touched by what I witness as parents begin to offer healing to the younger, more vulnerable versions of themselves.
We all want calm, connected relationships with our children, but sometimes, we need more than just good advice.
We need to use those small upsets as opportunities to reach back in time to offer ourselves the love, comfort, and reassurance we needed–and deserved– as children.
When we do this work, we don’t just improve our parenting. We change the emotional inheritance we pass down to our children.
“I see how those old feelings rush in when Brian criticizes me or complains that nothing I do is good enough,” she said. “That anger is right below the surface—but it’s probably much more about my dad than my little boy.”
I’ve had hundreds of sessions like this one, and every single time, I’m touched by what I witness as parents begin to offer healing to the younger, more vulnerable versions of themselves.
We all want calm, connected relationships with our children, but sometimes, we need more than just good advice.
We need to use those small upsets as opportunities to reach back in time to offer ourselves the love, comfort, and reassurance we needed–and deserved– as children.
When we do this work, we don’t just improve our parenting. We change the emotional inheritance we pass down to our children.
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