Breaking Generational Trauma: Teaching My Kid Healthy Conflict Resolution

A Friend’s Struggle

I was recently catching up with a friend when our conversation inevitably turned to marriage. “I’m afraid of affecting my child with the arguments my husband and I have,” she admitted before recounting an incident from the day before. Her seven-year-old son had been wearing a necklace with a cross on it, and when her husband noticed, he muttered something under his breath. That was all it took to set her off.

“Keep your comments to yourself,” she snapped, right in front of their son. “There’s a certain way I’m raising him, and I won’t let you disrespect my faith.”

They continued trading barbed remarks until they retreated to separate corners of the house. Later, her son approached her and said, “Just ignore him. It’s what I do.”

Suddenly, my friend felt like she was the one being parented. The next day, instead of going straight home after school, they drove to his grandparents’ house — as they often did after a fight. On the way there, her son made another sobering observation: “I’m glad we’re going to Grandma’s so you and Daddy won’t fight.”

Her child is her world, and she’s doing everything she can to hold it together, staying in a marriage that clearly isn’t making her happy. She’s worried about how their fights affect her son, but I don’t think she realizes the impact is already unfolding. I could see where she was coming from because, in some ways, I had been there too.

Breaking the Pattern

“You know, Michael never sees any resolution to your conflicts. He’s not learning how to work through them — he’s learning to avoid them.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You’re right.”

I get it. I really do. I didn’t grow up in a home where conflict was handled well. Arguments weren’t about finding solutions — they were about winning. Whoever landed the hardest blow, the lowest insult, the final word — that was the victor. What followed was icy silence, a ceasefire until the next inevitable explosion. I never learned how to argue in a way that actually solved anything.

I was caught between two people who couldn’t handle conflict or their emotions. Crying wasn’t tolerated — it was a weakness. Anger was inappropriate, so I learned to bottle it up. Even now, I don’t always recognize when I’m stressed until I reach my breaking point. And by then, it’s too late — I’ve already said something I regret or hurt someone I care about.

A Personal Experience

When my husband and I first moved in together, I struggled to have healthy disagreements. I had worked to unlearn some of what I grew up with, but applying those lessons in real time? That was another story. There were times when I took cheap shots, dragging his parents into arguments, hurling words that weren’t fair or productive. I was simply reenacting what I had been taught.

I’ve had my share of blow-ups, but one stands out above the rest. It was during the COVID lockdown. My daughter was about two and a half, and we were getting her ready for her afternoon nap. I reminded my husband not to rile her up — she needed to wind down. That lasted all of five minutes before they started playing, giggling, completely disregarding my request. I lay there, trying to keep calm, asking them to stop. And then — just like that — I lost it.

I shot out of bed, screaming like a banshee. I stormed into the bathroom, grabbed something, and hurled it into the bathtub. My husband was calling for me to stop, telling me I was scaring her. But I was too far gone. I walked out, still fuming, oblivious to the damage I had just done.

A Wake-Up Call

Here’s the thing — yelling at another adult is one thing. But for a small child, watching their parent explode without warning, not understanding why, feeling suddenly unsafe in their own home — that’s something else entirely. I could see the fear in her eyes, the same fear I once had. The realization gutted me. Because I knew exactly what it felt like to be that little girl, watching something unravel that she had no control over. And I couldn’t ignore the truth: I was teaching her the same lessons I had been taught.

That moment pushed me to seek therapy.

I didn’t want my daughter to grow up in the same environment I did. When you grow up in a household where conflict is explosive, your brain wires itself around it. You don’t even realize it’s happening, but it shapes everything.

For me, it made me hyper-sensitive to conflict. Even now, I feel it in my body before I even register what’s happening — my stomach knots, my heart races. I spent years avoiding confrontation, bending over backward to keep the peace, even when it wasn’t in my best interest.

I don’t want that for her. I don’t want her to believe that conflict is scary or something to avoid at all costs. I want her to understand that disagreements happen, but they don’t have to mean chaos. That you can be upset, frustrated, even angry — without losing control.

Therapy: A Path to Change

A lot of parents are struggling to break the generational patterns that were passed down to them. For me, it became clear that if I wanted to change how I handled conflict, I had to do the hard work of unpacking my past. As mentioned, I took it upon myself to go to therapy and explore the emotional baggage I had been carrying for so long. It wasn’t just about reflecting on what I saw growing up — it was about understanding what I was doing, why I was doing it, and how I could make small, deliberate changes to be a better parent, spouse, and person.

One of the first things we worked on in therapy was checking in with myself regularly. I began asking myself, “How am I feeling today? Is something bothering me? Am I burnt out?” By really understanding my day-to-day emotions, I was able to recognize when something was off before it reached a boiling point. This simple act of awareness — taking a moment to assess my emotions — has been transformative. Instead of letting frustrations fester, I now have the space to talk about them, take action, or even just let go.

We also worked on becoming more attuned to my body’s signals, particularly in moments of rising tension. I was taught how to recognize those physical cues before the emotional eruption. For example, I practice the “4 and 4” technique — a calming breathing exercise. I inhale deeply for four seconds, hold for four, and then exhale slowly for another four. I’ll admit, I’ve even caught myself doing this in the car when I feel stress building up. It’s a small but powerful tool that helps me regain control and settle my mind before reacting.

Another key lesson I learned was about anger. I’d never considered it in this way before, but anger, I realized, is essentially a tremendous burst of energy that needs to be released. That insight helped me understand why I often felt so physically charged when angry — it’s not just an emotion, it’s an energy that’s ready to be let go. So, I started walking a few times a week for 20 minutes in the mornings. The rhythmic motion of walking, combined with the fresh air, has been incredibly helpful in letting that energy out in a healthy way.

These small practices have made a huge difference in my life. Instead of letting anger build up or boiling over in unproductive ways, I’ve learned how to manage it more effectively. And in doing so, I’m becoming the kind of person I want my daughter to learn from — someone who takes responsibility for their emotions, handles conflict constructively, and actively works to be better.

As I learned to manage my emotions and break generational patterns, a new question emerged: What was my daughter actually learning from our interactions?

Teaching My Daughter Conflict Resolution

Our dynamic with my husband is interesting — at least to me. We bicker, exchange comments, and sometimes I explode, all of which our daughter witnesses. But I’m fortunate to have a partner who is balanced and knows how to argue healthily. He has control over both himself and his emotions, which has profoundly impacted the way we disagree and handle moments of tension.

He also has a superpower: disarming me with humor when I start to spiral. Sometimes, he’ll give me a look — his eyes squinting in a way that says, “I’m not happy, woman,” but I know he’s not angry with me — and it stops me in my tracks. Other times, an hour after an argument, he’ll hug me or playfully bump into me, and just like that, we return to our normal routine.

Our daughter sees the friction and the sudden return to normal, but she never sees the part where we make things right — the apologies, the conversations, the understanding. We save those for when she’s not around. But what does this teach her? That fights just end without resolution? That tension disappears without effort? That silence is how you fix things?

Children learn conflict resolution by seeing it in action. If they only witness the conflict without the repair, they’re left to fill in the blanks — and often, they get it wrong. They may believe relationships simply bounce back without effort, or worse, that emotions should be swallowed instead of addressed.

Moving Forward: What We Need to Change

Here’s what my husband and I need to change. We need to make a point and circle back in front of her. We don’t need to drag her into the details, but she needs to see the repair process. She needs to hear us say, “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you,” or “I was frustrated, but I understand where you were coming from.” Seeing conflict resolution in action helps children build emotional intelligence and healthier relationships as adults.

Leading by Example

I practice this with her. When I mess up — when I snap at her unfairly or say something hurtful — I don’t just let it slide. I sit down with her and own it.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

And when she says, “It’s okay, Mommy,” I stop her. Because it’s not okay.

I don’t want her to grow up thinking she has to accept an apology just to smooth things over. I want her to understand that she can say, “I understand” or “I appreciate your apology,” without pretending it didn’t matter. Because it does matter.

Ending with Hope

I can’t promise I’ll never yell again. But I can promise that I’ll keep showing her what it looks like to take responsibility.
Maybe — just maybe — what she learns from us won’t be that arguing is bad, but that it’s a part of life. And more importantly, that love, accountability, and understanding are what make relationships strong.