Parenting from my own wounds

I have hurt my children.

Not with neglect.

With fear.

One evening, too much noise, too many demands, one question asked again—

and my voice rose before I could stop it.

The room didn’t go loud.

It went small.

Eyes dropped.

Shoulders folded.

That quiet stayed with me longer than the shouting ever could.

For years, I told myself I was being firm.

That discipline was protection.

That pressure would prepare them for the world.

What I was really doing was parenting from unhealed ground.

From the child in me who learned early that love was conditional.

From generations that survived without softness

and called that strength.

The hardest truth wasn’t that I hurt them.

It was that I didn’t know how to stop.

Until healing forced me to see that I wasn’t reacting to their behavior—

I was reacting to my own fear of being wrong, failing, not enough.

I still lose my temper sometimes.

But now I return.

I sit down.

I meet their eyes.

I say what I never heard as a child:

“I’m sorry. My behaviour has nothing to do with you.”

That one line has changed the atmosphere of my home more than any rule ever did.

This work isn’t about better behaviour.

It’s about breaking the way fear travels through families.

And this isn’t only for parents.

If you were once the child who had to be good to be loved…

quiet to be accepted…

strong too early—

your body already knows this story.

This is the terrain I work in now.

In 1:1 spaces, where people come to meet what they never got to meet safely.

And in my practitioner training programs, where those who feel called to hold others learn to do it with depth, skill, and steadiness—not urgency.

If something in you recognized itself here,

you can reach me at +91 7016500451.

Not to become better.

But to stop carrying what was never yours to hold.