What I am learning from the most difficult relationships in my life
Some of the hardest things I’ve ever heard have come from the people who were supposed to love me most.
“I love my son, but what do you do for this family?”
“What did you do to deserve that man?”
“You call yourself a life coach and you can’t see that you’re the problem here?”
When it comes from a parent — or a parent figure — it cuts deep.
Even when you’ve done the therapy.
Even when you’re on the spiritual side of social media.
Even when you understand, intellectually, that their outburst says more about them than it ever could about you…
It still hurts.
It hurts because it matters
The inner critic doesn’t just show up one day in your head.
It was someone’s voice first.
And when the people who shaped your earliest sense of self seem to confirm your deepest fears, that you’re unlovable, undeserving, too much, not enough… it doesn’t just sting. It reverberates through your body.
This is the grief I’m sitting with right now.
The grief of knowing I can’t share the most beautiful parts of my life — my family, my growth, my peace — with the people who helped create them.
Because when I do, it’s not met with joy.
It’s met with jealousy, judgment, projection, or contempt.
It’s met with the question of whether I deserve to have it at all.
And yet, there’s always something to learn; even (and maybe especially) through our most painful relationships and moments.
How I’m Coaching Myself Through It
The real work is:
Not in fixing them.
Not in proving myself.
Not collapsing into depression or rage.
The work is staying anchored in who I want to be in the relationship, and what I’m no longer available for.
Here’s what I come back to:
“What is mine to hold right now?”
Not their outburst. Not their shame. Not their story.
What’s mine is my response.
My ability to pause.
My ability to stay calm, clear, and in integrity. Even when they’re not.
“Where do I need a boundary, not a breakthrough?”
Sometimes we keep hoping for healing conversations when what we actually need is space.
I’ve learned that just because someone is family doesn’t mean they get unlimited access to me. Or to my children.
“Can I let myself grieve what will never be?”
This one is the hardest.
Letting go of the fantasy.
The wish that one day I could be the person who goes on vacation with her in-laws.
Whose mother plans the baby shower.
Who finds joy in those relationships.
Letting the sadness just be, without trying to “fix” it.
“What do I know is real, even if they never see it?”
The love in my home.
The life I’m building.
The marriage I’ve nurtured with care and intention.
My daughter’s safety. My son’s joy.
That is what’s real. That is the proof.
The Legacy I’m Building
What I’m building with my family, the one I chose and am actively creating, has to matter more than what my parents or in-laws think of me.
And, it does matter more.
It’s rooted in truth, safety, and love. Not control, fear, or guilt.
And every time I show up anchored in my response instead of reactive…
Every time I protect my kids from emotional chaos I wasn’t protected from…
Every time I trust myself instead of begging to be loved…
That’s the legacy I’m building.