From the moment I opened my eyes each morning, I found myself slipping into the role of caretaker for too many years to count – not just for my husband, but for my children, now ages 24 & 25, my mother and my sister. Mothering became second nature, extending far beyond the boundaries of where it was meant to be. I nurtured, soothed, mended, and protected, more often than not, at the cost of my own needs and identity as I took on the emotional and physical burdens of everyone around me. But was this my fault? Or was it learned behavior passed down through generations?

For me, healing has been vital. I have been deconstructing myself for the last twenty years, mainly after the children were born, around the ages of 2 and 3, as I realized there were some behaviors that I did not like from my past. As an advocate of breaking generational curses, I have gone against my bloodlines and those of my husbands to heal from the trauma so my children never have to, or at least carry my extra baggage; they will have their own. Prioritizing my family first before myself has taken an emotional toll, but someone wise once told me,”You know you have a big heart when you feel bad for doing what is best for you.”

Another part of my problem is that my delivery may not always be gentle when addressing the situation, but I always attempt to acknowledge their perspectives. They may feel uncomfortable or defensive about past behaviors, so they prefer not to revisit the issues. My mother, in her defense, has been open to feedback and having hard conversations. My sister often forgets her behaviors which she blames me for, such as being hard on her and always living in the past. My husband is a unique case, as he now acknowledges the past pain caused, but not interested in reliving conversations about it – which doesn’t work for me due to certain repetitive actions that keep occurring.

But how do I stop my enabling and mothering? I don’t want to rupture relationships that mean so much to me, yet I can no longer continue in this role that has bred resentment and frustration. It’s a delicate balance that requires careful consideration and honest communication. Let me explain how I arrived at this crossroads and what steps I am taking to redefine these relationships more healthily.

First, let’s start with my two twenty-something sons, who have developed high emotional intelligence and a deep understanding of accountability and communication. They navigate their relationships by talking through problems, paying attention to others’ needs, and remaining acutely aware of their roles in these interactions. They know who they are as individuals and don’t rely on others to build them up, avoiding the need to needle or seek validation from those around them. Moreover, they are excellent listeners, always present and engaged in our conversations, making our interactions meaningful and supportive.

Trust me, they have imperfections—we all do. But I am trying to make the point that my sons see life through a lens larger than their world. They have an innate ability to make others feel seen and heard, engaging with people in a way that goes beyond self-interest. Despite their flaws, their capacity to genuinely connect with and understand those around them is something I deeply admire.

On the other hand, my mother, sister, and husband seem to struggle to be their people. They often take on the behaviors of those around them, as if seeking validation or direction externally rather than finding it within themselves. This tendency contrasts with how my sons navigate the world, and it has made my role in these relationships more complicated and, at times, burdensome.

I have struggled with each, feeling the weight of trying to prop each of them up and defend them for most of our relationships. In my efforts to support my mom, sister, and husband, I often found myself taking on responsibilities that weren’t mine, becoming the emotional anchor they seemed unable to be for themselves. This dynamic has been exhausting and left me questioning how to continue in these roles without losing myself. The personal toll has been, in part, a choice I made, one rooted in a desire to help and protect them. However, untangling myself from these roles has been a significant challenge, especially when trying to do so without character-assassinating them. I want to step back and allow them to stand independently, but finding the balance between supporting them and maintaining my well-being is proving difficult.

Over the last few years, the logical next step involved setting more significant and better boundaries with my mom and sister and holding myself accountable to these new limits. This process has been in progress, and after plenty of uncomfortable conversations, I believe they both now understand where I stand moving forward. This headway has brought a sense of relief and clarity, at least to me. However, it leaves me with the challenge of addressing the dynamic with my husband and how to navigate our marriage moving forward.

For far too many years, I allowed the same hurtful behaviors to continue, speaking out about the injustices but accepting minimal consequences. I carried the weight of these burdens to protect my children from the dysfunction of my husband’s first family and the unresolved issues he still hasn’t faced. My priority was always keeping our family together, especially after losing my father at 11 and experiencing my mother’s emotional abandonment when she remarried a narcissist who was verbally abusive toward both of us. After four years of marriage, I encouraged her to divorce him, along with support from other family members.

However, now that I’m on a healing journey and have taken the time to process my experiences with the help of a therapist, I’ve written a life review that has brought me new clarity. I understand the importance of recognizing and reconciling past pain, as it inevitably creeps into our current relationships. This has happened with my husband; his unresolved wounds from his parents have affected his relationship with me and our children. I can no longer be his lighthouse, guiding him through his darkness, as this dynamic has created a lopsided imbalance in our relationship. While he wants to ignore and not relive his past transgressions towards me, I need him to acknowledge how they manifest in different forms.

I’m at a crossroads because I don’t know how to handle this situation. My husband doesn’t want to relive the past, even though the same behaviors resurface differently. When I address these issues, he becomes defensive, accusing me of living in the past instead of focusing on the future, where he wants to evolve and move forward. It’s a tricky balance—wishing to heal and grow together but feeling stuck in a cycle that can’t be broken without acknowledging the unresolved pain.

The crux of the situation at hand is the tension between my desire to address past issues and my husband’s focus on the future as I continue to struggle to help him understand that one cannot fully engage in an emotionally intelligent relationship without first dealing with the pain from one’s past. He doesn’t see that his behaviors often mimic those of his childhood role models, patterns that have gone unresolved for too long. I can no longer keep teaching him how to navigate the emotional dynamics with those around him, including what I need from him. It’s exhausting to be the one continually guiding him when I need a partner willing to confront and heal from his wounds instead of avoiding the work and leaving me to do the heavy lifting.

We have both had endless heart-to-heart conversations, and he understands how I feel and my desire to no longer hold his feelings or anyone else’s as we move towards the future, only acts of love and accountability. I will no longer self-abandon and need their approval or acceptance. If they want to connect with me emotionally, they must participate, put in the work, and no longer take on emotionally immature behaviors. The internal work is challenging but rewarding.

As I stand at this juncture in our marriage, I realize that the path forward requires us to engage in the work necessary to heal and grow actively. I can no longer bear the weight of doing it alone, nor can I ignore the impact the unresolved past pain has on our present. It’s time for both of us to step up, confront our respective histories, and rebuild our relationship on a foundation of mutual understanding and emotional intelligence. This is how I need to handle my frustration—by setting clear boundaries, insisting on shared responsibility, and ensuring that we contribute equally to the emotional work required to truly move forward as equal partners rather than remaining stuck in the patterns that have kept us apart.