Parenting with Grace: Breaking Cycles, Not Ourselves

Talaya Murphy
Jul 28
2 min read

Growing up, so many of us say the same thing:

“I’m not going to be like my parents.”

We swear we won’t repeat their mistakes. We promise ourselves we’ll break the cycles—whether that means being more emotionally available, less strict, more affectionate, or just more present.

And then, one day, we become parents ourselves… and everything shifts.

Becoming a mom opened a part of my heart I didn’t even know was there. It made me think differently and come to terms with the situations my parents might have faced.

Suddenly, the people I once saw as all-knowing—my mom, my dad, my stepdad—became something else entirely. I stopped seeing them as superheroes or villains, and started seeing them as humans.

Just people.

People trying to figure life out while raising kids.

People with their own traumas, their own baggage, and probably their own cycles they were trying to break.

I had my first glimpse of this clarity in undergrad. I briefly considered majoring in sociology, and I’ll never forget learning how socioeconomic status, environment, and generational patterns shape someone’s entire trajectory. That class, paired with my communication courses (yes, I graduated with a Speech Communication degree and a Journalism minor—can’t you tell from the blog? lol), helped me see the bigger picture.

It hit me then, and even more so now—that my mom was just a girl when she had me. My dad was just a boy. Certain choices should have been made differently, sure. But I know they did the best they could with what they had. And honestly, I think I turned out pretty well.

Now that I’m raising my own daughter, I think a lot about the kind of mother I want to be. I don’t want to wear a mask of perfection or act like I’m all-knowing. I don’t want her to think strength means being silent, or that love has to be earned or comes with conditions.

I want her to grow up knowing it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to ask for hugs. It’s okay to say “I love you” a thousand times a day—and hear it back.

It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to rest. We don’t always have to focus on resilience. Sometimes we have to sit in the pain to move through it. Boundaries are healthy. Rest is productive. Taking a day off with no plans is absolutely allowed.

That kind of emotional openness is new in my family. Really new. But I’m determined to make it our norm.

In learning to mother her with gentleness and compassion, I’m slowly learning to extend that same grace to myself. And maybe that’s part of the healing, too.

I want my daughter to know that she doesn’t have to be perfect.

She just has to be herself.

She deserves to be happy—without carrying the weight of anyone else’s unhealed trauma.

We are not bellhops.

So maybe our parents didn’t get it all right. Maybe we won’t either. But if we can parent with more awareness, more softness, and more grace—for our kids and for ourselves—then we’re already doing better.

And that matters.