“The greatest gift you can give your children is your own healing.” ~Dr. Shefali Tsabary
Am I doing too much or not enough?
Am I spoiling my child? Am I being too hard on my child? Am I too soft? Am I spending enough time with my child? Am I helping too much? Can I help you more?
Will my son be used because he talks about his feelings? Will my daughter be considered too bossy because she has boundaries? Should I be doing more as a parent? Or less?
These are the questions that flood the minds of parents who have experienced childhood trauma and are trying to heal while parenting. Our main goal is simple: don’t do to our children what they did to us.
I know this was my goal before my son was born. I remember telling myself that I wouldn’t have children until I was healed enough to not repeat the trauma I experienced as an adult. If you’re like me, you probably thought it wouldn’t be too hard.
There was no way I could push my son’s feelings away. I was emotionally and physically present. No matter what you went through, I would be compassionate, nurturing, and unconditionally loving.
This is what children need and deserve. This is what I needed and deserved.
But then the questions started. The doubt. The constant guesswork. That voice that softly asks if you’re doing it wrong… I call that not good enough.
No matter how many loving things I did, this voice still appeared.
Am I talking too much about feelings? Should I let him handle things with his friends on his own? If he is upset and says he needs space, should I leave or stay close?
If I think a teacher is being unfair, should I step in or let him go? If I know she needs help, should I wait until she asks or should I offer it?
It’s tiring to always try to fix it. When I really sit with him, I notice two fears behind everything.
The first is: Am I giving my son too much love?
I always ask him if he wants a hug before I give one.
He was upset the other day about something that happened at school. I sat down next to him and asked, “Do you want a hug?”
He didn’t even look at me. “Not.”
I stopped, not knowing what to do next. Every part of me wanted to pull him close anyway, comfort him the way I always needed, but I didn’t get it.
Instead, I asked, “Do you want me to sit with you, or do I give you a seat?”
“Just sit there.”
So, I did it. I sat next to him in silence, fighting the urge to fix it, to say something, to do more, and my mind became loud.
am i doing enough
Am I doing too much?
Am I misunderstanding this?
This moment touches something deeper in me, because affection and comfort were not something I received constantly as a child. For a long time I thought it was normal.
That belief began to change the first time I spent the night at my friend Molly’s house. Before going to bed, her mom hugged me.
I remember thinking it was one of the best feelings I’d ever had. I felt safe, warm and light. I wanted more of this.
So the next night I told my mother what had happened. I asked if he would start cuddling at bedtime too. That didn’t go down well.
He became confused and angry. He said if I wanted a mother like Molly’s I could go live with her.
I am not sharing this to shame my mother. He received neither love nor care. I don’t think he knew how to give something he never had.
But I didn’t understand that as a child. Instead, I learned that my demands were too high.
These beliefs don’t just disappear when we grow up. They follow us into adulthood, into relationships, into parenting.
So now when my son says no to hugs, it’s not just a simple preference.
You are faced with something old. And this is where the Not Good Enough Stuff comes into play.
The second fear behind all of this is quieter but just as strong: Am I pushing too hard for him to talk about his feelings? Am I setting it up to make them look weak?
Why do we do this to ourselves? Like many things, it goes back to childhood.
We had emotional needs that we didn’t meet, and now we’re trying to make sure our children don’t experience the same emptiness. It’s a beautiful thing.
But there is a big problem. We were never shown how to do this. It’s like trying to get somewhere without a map.
A few years ago, my family and I moved from Mississippi to the mountains of Southern Oregon. Now imagine directions, GPS and no one guiding the way.
Would you finally get there? Probably. Would you take wrong turns, get lost, and feel frustrated along the way? Totally.
This is what it feels like.
We know what kind of parents we want to be. We just don’t have a clear path to get there. So we make mistakes, and then we blame ourselves.
We try so hard to give our children what we didn’t have that we start to question whether we’re overcorrecting. But there’s something comforting when that voice gets louder.
We often think that we should give more to our children. More activities. More options. Several things.
But I saw kids who had very little financially, had their emotional needs met, and were fine, more than fine. They were more emotionally healthy than most children.
I also knew what it felt like to have things but not have the love, comfort and care that really mattered.
To be honest, I would have given up a lot of things just to feel safe, to be seen and loved. This reminder brings you back to what really matters.
Not perfection. Contact.
Of course we will make mistakes. This is inevitable. And yes, we are wrong in some ways. But here is the difference.
You do things your parents don’t. You reflect. You ask. I care about you. You are willing to change.
You are working on your own healing while raising your child. It’s more than just being okay.
If I had to bet, I’d say you’re also doing something meaningful that your child will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Maybe you’ll apologize if you screw it up. Maybe you listen instead of rejecting. You might try again the next day. These things are not small.
Sometimes I lose my shit with my son. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. In those moments, I hear echoes of my upbringing and sometimes repeat things I heard as a child that were harmful.
But I also notice that. Sometimes right after, sometimes at that moment. This awareness allows me to fix and make things better than perfection ever could.
When we correct with our children, we teach them that mistakes are okay. We teach them how to take responsibility, reconnect, and build healthy relationships.
This is something many of us have never been taught, and it makes all the difference. So, when you start questioning yourself again, take a step back.
Remember that you are doing something incredibly hard. You’re parenting like you’ve never been a parent.
You learn as you go. You choose something else. It matters more than ever doing it perfectly. You deserve sympathy.
You’ve always done it. And now you need to give yourself some sympathy.
About Mary Beth Fox
Mary Beth Fox is a licensed professional counselor, speaker, and author who helps people understand and heal the childhood roots of not feeling good enough. Her work focuses on how this belief shapes anxiety, relationships and self-doubt. He is the author of the forthcoming book Things Not Good Enough: Dig up your roots to get back to who you were meant to be. Visit theinnerchildtherapist.comget your free guide Why do you feel “not good enough?and contact him Instagram, Facebookand TikTok.
