For so long, I believed that staying quiet about my hurt made me strong. I thought that if I didn’t look back, if I didn’t feel too deeply, if I just kept moving, then none of it could touch me. I treated avoidance like strength and silence like survival.
But in slowing down lately and reflecting, I’ve had to face something I never wanted to see: in my hiding, I became the very thing I loathed
A hypocrite.
Not because I didn’t love my children or show up for them in countless meaningful ways. In so many areas of parenting, I did lead by example. I taught them kindness, honesty, forgiveness and compassion. I gave them safety, encouragement, and a place to land.
But when it comes to emotional regulation — the kind of mature, steady presence I hoped they would learn from me — I wasn’t showing them what it truly looks like. I was teaching them how to be open while I stayed closed. Teaching them to face their feelings while I buried mine. Teaching them honesty while I hid behind strength that wasn’t really strength at all.
Seeing that contradiction has been painful.
Recently, I’ve been searching for forgiveness within myself — not because I failed intentionally, but because I didn’t recognize sooner how deeply my avoidance was shaping not just my life, but theirs. It’s strange how self-forgiveness can be harder than forgiving anyone else. It requires honesty, humility, and a kind of softness I’m not used to offering myself.
Part of this reflection has led me to consider writing a letter to my children — not to unload or explain away anything, but to acknowledge the gap between who I tried to be and what they actually saw. A letter that might someday say things like:
- I’m sorry I hid my emotions when I should have modeled how to feel them.
- I’m learning, and I want to do better for you.
- Your mother is a work in progress, and that’s not something I want to hide anymore.
I’m not ready to write that letter yet — but even thinking about it has opened something in me. It’s helping me understand that healing isn’t just about looking inward; sometimes it’s about repairing what our silence may have unintentionally created.
I’m trying to forgive myself for not noticing sooner. I’m trying to extend myself the grace I so easily give to others. And I’m trying to grow in ways my children can actually witness, not guess at.
Healing is messy, imperfect, and often uncomfortable. But I’m showing up for it — not only for me, but for them.
And I think that matters.
You can explore the tools I have created for my own personal healing journey here:
👉 Stan Store: https://stan.store/Shroompy
Healing, Glowing, and Growing - One Act of Self-Care At a Time 
Leave a comment