The Stories We Inherit-And the Ones We Choose

The Stories We Inherit – And the Ones We Choose

Were you ever hit as a kid?

Do you remember how you felt when it happened?

I do.

And I remember distinctly the day I decided that if I ever had kids, I would never hit them.

I was nine years old at the time. We were on Easter break from school, and it had been raining nonstop for a week.

My dad was in an ugly mood, and my mom was exhausted with another new baby and the added burden of having the rest of us home from school.

All week, we were busy scrubbing walls, baseboards, and ceilings. When we finished inside the house, we were sent to the barn or out into the fields.

That day, just before lunch, I finally opened my mouth to complain.

The timing was particularly bad because my dad had just come in from outside, and he heard me.

“Upstairs,” he growled, as he pulled the leather belt from the hook where it hung in readiness.

I was instructed to pull down my pants and bend over the bed.

I remember the belt hitting my bare bottom. It stung, and the clap of the belt buckle hitting my leg left a bruise.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

His anger fueled him as he swung and connected.

When he finished, I was told to pull up my pants and go back downstairs to finish cleaning the bathroom.

As the chlorine bleach stung my hands, I thought about my dad.

I fiercely loved him. He was my hero, and I didn’t like feeling angry at him. But his behavior left me feeling powerless.

It also made me sad.

Did he truly love me? Or did he just say he did?

As tears were sliding over my cheeks, I offered up a prayer and a promise.

“God, if I ever have kids, I will never hit them. I will only love them.”

As the years went by, I was married and gave birth to two boys, five years apart.

Unfortunately, late one night, I broke my promise.

When my older son was fourteen, he snuck out during the night. Like a diligent mother, I tracked him down, found him, escorted him to the car, and as we began driving home, he turned to me with a venomous expression.

“You know what, Mom? You’re a f***ing c**t.”

My hand flew out so fast that I couldn’t even believe it was mine.

(As I have shared this story over the years, every listener has responded the same way.

“JUSTIFIED.”)

The point here is that you always have a choice. You are not a prisoner of the stories of your childhood. Just because you were hit as a child doesn't mean that you need to hit your own children.

There is absolutely no reason to inflict your childhood trauma on the next generation.

When you commit yourself to a better way, you can find something that works for you that is confidence-building for your child while at the same time motivating him/her to be a better human.

My boys and I talked things out. Sometimes it was hard—real hard. Generally, we would have to wait a bit for everyone to calm down, but we figured it out.

(I want to be clear that I am not saying I was a perfect mother by any stretch of the imagination. During their younger years, I was struggling to overcome my own stuff.)

But I worked hard to keep my promise. And I only broke it once.

Stop for a Moment

It’s easy to be reactive. A slap, a kick, or an unkind word is an easy way to release your stress, making you feel better.

I admit it can be incredibly challenging to pause before reacting, especially if you grew up in a reactive household. Those habits can be deeply ingrained.

But when you make a decision to respond in a kinder way, you build trust with your child. (Plus, you are breaking what could be an intergenerational pattern.)

The point here is that yes, you inherited a family story. We all did.

But you can choose a different story for you and your family--one that builds confidence, trust, and respect in your young one.

If you would like to learn more about my story and how I uncovered some deep-seated patterns and retrained my brain to respond in a healthier way, you can find my book here.

Both Publishers’ Weekly and Memoir Magazine called it a “must-read” for anyone struggling with self-confidence.

I hope you’ll check it out!