I hear a lot of people talking these days about the wounds left by our closest relationships—mother wounds, father wounds, sister wounds, religious wounds, and more. The language of trauma and healing has entered our everyday conversations, and that’s a beautiful thing. It means we’re finally becoming aware of the emotional inheritance we carry. But today, I want to talk specifically about the mother wound.
When I first learned about trauma and its emotional impact on my life—how deep the roots of unresolved pain can go—I felt angry. Deeply, achingly angry.
I remember thinking:
How could she do this to me?
Why didn’t she love me the way I needed?
She didn’t care.
She failed me.
How could she do this to me?
Why didn’t she love me the way I needed?
She didn’t care.
She failed me.
But as time passed, and as my healing journey deepened, something shifted. I realized that it wasn’t just about me. It was also about her—her life, her pain, her wounds.
The truth is, your mother carries wounds too. Not just the mother wounds you feel today, but her own childhood traumas, her own heartbreaks, her own emotional inheritance passed down from generations before her. Wounds she likely never had the time, space, or tools to heal.
We are living in a time of great emotional awakening. Humanity is in a collective healing process. Everything that was buried is rising to the surface. But with this awareness comes a choice: we can stay stuck in blame—or we can choose to understand, forgive, and heal.
I’m not here to deny your pain. Your wounds are real. Your childhood experiences shaped you in powerful, often painful ways. I have heard so many stories—stories from both women and men—about mothers who were absent, cold, controlling, overly critical, emotionally unavailable, or even abusive.
And I want to acknowledge all of it.
All of that pain deserves to be heard, seen, and healed.
And I want to acknowledge all of it.
All of that pain deserves to be heard, seen, and healed.
But I also want to invite you to look at the other side of the story.
Have you ever asked your mother:
“What kind of wounds are you carrying?”
“What was your childhood like?”
“Who hurt you before you ever had a chance to become my mother?”
“What kind of wounds are you carrying?”
“What was your childhood like?”
“Who hurt you before you ever had a chance to become my mother?”
Because most likely, when your mother was growing up, no one was talking about trauma. No one explained emotional wounds or gave her permission to feel. She may have been raised in a home where emotions were buried, punished, or simply ignored. Where survival came before self-reflection.
I learned all of this in my 50s. For many of us, it takes decades to uncover the truth beneath the surface of our childhoods. And when I look back, I see that my mother—like many mothers—was living in chaos. Maybe your mother was too. Maybe she was struggling with an abusive or alcoholic husband. Maybe she was taking care of aging parents while raising children on her own. Maybe she worked two jobs and came home exhausted every night, still managing to cook dinner, do the laundry, and tuck you into bed.
And yes, maybe she didn’t play with you. Maybe she didn’t say “I love you” the way you needed. Maybe she was distant or distracted or didn’t know how to show affection.
But maybe… she loved you the best way she knew how.
I’ve had clients say, “My mother was always too tired for me,” or “She never really saw me.” And then, when we start looking deeper, we find that she was working herself to the bone just to put food on the table. That her heart was so heavy, her soul so weary, that showing love became a luxury she couldn’t afford.
And here’s the heartbreaking part: as children, we don’t know how to make sense of that. So we internalize it:
If she doesn’t play with me, it must be because I’m not lovable.
If she yells, it must be because I’m bad.
If she’s not here, it must be because I’m not worth staying for.
If she doesn’t play with me, it must be because I’m not lovable.
If she yells, it must be because I’m bad.
If she’s not here, it must be because I’m not worth staying for.
And those beliefs? They follow us into adulthood. No matter how much success we find, how much love we receive, we still carry that quiet voice that says: I’m not enough.
But I’m here to tell you: You are enough. You have always been enough.
And so was she. Your mother—flawed, tired, human—was also enough. She was doing the best she could with the tools she had, shaped by a world that didn’t always show her how to be a mother, or even how to be a whole woman.
Let’s be honest: if motherhood had a job description, no one would sign up for it.
Must be endlessly patient. Able to interpret non-verbal cues while sleep-deprived. Willing to sacrifice body, mind, and soul without thanks or compensation. Expected to remain calm under pressure, immune to criticism, always smiling, always giving. Pay: none.
Must be endlessly patient. Able to interpret non-verbal cues while sleep-deprived. Willing to sacrifice body, mind, and soul without thanks or compensation. Expected to remain calm under pressure, immune to criticism, always smiling, always giving. Pay: none.
This is the reality many mothers lived—and still live. Isolation, financial stress, gender discrimination, generational trauma—and still, they showed up. Sometimes messily. Sometimes imperfectly. But they showed up.
So now I ask you: Can you start to see her humanity?
Can you see her not just as your mother, but as a woman who was once a child herself?
Can you see her not just as your mother, but as a woman who was once a child herself?
This is not about excusing abuse or pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. This is about understanding.
This is about breaking the cycle.
This is about you choosing to become the healing generation.
This is about you choosing to become the healing generation.
You didn’t come here to stay stuck in blame. You didn’t come here just to replay your childhood pain on loop.
You came here to heal.
You came here to transform.
You came here to heal.
You came here to transform.
And if you’re open to a spiritual perspective, I believe this:
You chose your parents before you were born.
You chose them—not because they were perfect, but because their wounds matched yours. Because through them, you would be offered the opportunity to grow, evolve, and heal not only your own soul, but the lineage you come from.
You chose your parents before you were born.
You chose them—not because they were perfect, but because their wounds matched yours. Because through them, you would be offered the opportunity to grow, evolve, and heal not only your own soul, but the lineage you come from.
Your soul agreed to this.
You came to Earth at this time for a reason: to help end the generational pain. Not to wallow in it, not to blame endlessly, but to transmute it into something higher—something that sets you, and those who came before and after you, free.
How to Begin Healing the Mother Wound
If this resonates with you, here are some possibilities for beginning the healing process:
- Acknowledge Your Pain Without Judgment
Give yourself full permission to feel. You’re allowed to be hurt, angry, confused, or grieving. All of it is valid. - Stop Blaming, Start Understanding
Blame is easy. Compassion takes strength. Begin by asking questions—not just about your pain, but about hers. - Ask Your Mother About Her Childhood
If she’s still alive and willing, ask: “What were your parents like?” “What hurt you when you were little?” “What made you feel unloved?” - Write It All Down
Make a list of the wounds you carry. Then make a list of the wounds your mother may have carried. Let this become a map of inherited pain—and a guide toward healing it. - Accept That You Chose This Path
If it feels right to you, accept the idea that your soul chose this life, these lessons, and these parents. It can help you move from resistance to purpose. - Use Healing Modalities That Resonate With You
This could be therapy, trauma healing, somatic healing, inner child work, breathwork, energy healing, EFT Tapping, ancestral work, or even past life regressions. Follow what speaks to your heart. - Practice Forgiveness (When You’re Ready)
Forgiveness doesn’t mean saying it was okay. It means releasing the grip the past has on your future. Start with small moments. Forgive her for not knowing. Forgive yourself for not understanding. If you want to start, you can do it right now with the Ho’oponopono method. Remember, forgiveness isn’t about condoning someone else’s behavior—it’s about freeing yourself.
You can make a list of events, people, and personal behaviors that you judge as negative or inappropriate. Then, using this simple but powerful process, release the emotional charge. The Hawaiian Ho’oponopono practice is done by silently repeating these four phrases while holding an image of the person or situation in your heart:
“I’m Sorry. Please Forgive Me. Thank You. I Love You.” - Become the Mother (or Father) You Needed
To your children. To your inner child. To the world. Be what you once longed for. That is the true transformation. - Connect to Something Greater
Whether it’s your higher self, God, Source, Spirit, or your ancestors—lean on the unseen. You’re never alone in this journey. - Let Healing Be a Lifelong Practice
Healing isn’t a one-time event. It’s a lifelong relationship with yourself. Be gentle. Be patient. Keep going.
Your story doesn’t end with your mother’s pain.
Your story begins with your choice to heal it.
Your story begins with your choice to heal it.
You are the bridge. You are the medicine.
And the world is waiting for your healing to ripple outward.
And the world is waiting for your healing to ripple outward.
Now is the time.
Let the healing begin.
Xoxo
Urszula
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