When the Damage is Intentional

Can we talk about something for a minute?

Not every child grows up in a home where saying, “That hurt me,” leads to a conversation.

Sometimes, the moment those words leave your mouth, everything changes.

The mood shifts.

The walls go up.

What could have been a conversation becomes an argument.

And before you know it, you’re no longer talking about what hurt you.

You’re defending the fact that it hurt you in the first place.

I wasn’t afraid to speak.

I just already knew how it would end.

I’d explain how I felt.

The conversation would take a completely different direction.

Suddenly, we weren’t talking about what happened anymore.

We were talking about my tone.

My reaction.

Everything except the reason I spoke in the first place.

That always stayed with me.

Because I kept wondering…

How does someone hear that their child is hurting and somehow make the conversation about themselves?

How does someone become more committed to protecting their own image than protecting the relationship?

At what point does pride become more important than your own child?

I don’t think enough people talk about that.

We’re taught to respect our parents.

And I believe respect matters.

But here’s what I’ve never understood…

Why is it that some parents expect respect but never take responsibility?

Why is it so difficult for some of them to simply say, “I was wrong”?

Or, “I’m sorry.”

Why does the relationship have to suffer just so their pride can survive?

Those are questions I’ve carried for a long time.

The truth is, none of us are perfect.

Parents make mistakes.

Children do too.

That’s part of being human.

But there’s a difference between making a mistake…

And choosing the same behavior over and over again.

When the same conversation always ends the same way…

When accountability never comes…

When your feelings are dismissed before they’re even heard…

It stops feeling like a mistake.

It starts feeling intentional.

That’s when something finally clicked for me.

I stopped waiting for people to become who they had never chosen to be.

I stopped believing that one more conversation would suddenly create accountability where there had never been any.

I know what it feels like to grow up believing honesty comes with consequences.

My children won’t.

That’s how generational curses are broken.

The pain may have started before me.

But it doesn’t get to continue through me.

— Abi Brooklyn