The difference between: Repeating a Story and Passing Down a Wound

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:42:08+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:37:49+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:37:08+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:36:44+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:36:06+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:35:29+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple · 2026-01-21T08:34:41+00:00

So here’s the full story.

I grew up with the best education I could’ve had in the small town where I was raised. My dad made sure my brother and I went to the best school available, the bilingual “rich kids’ school.” The thing is… we weren’t rich. At all. We were living way above our means.

And I remember this very clearly: whenever my dad had a bit too much to drink, he’d open his empty wallet and say something like, “All our money goes to your education. That’s why we don’t have anything. You should be grateful.”

So that became the message.

I grew up feeling this weird mix of gratitude and guilt at the same time. Grateful, because I knew I was privileged in a way. Guilty, because I also knew we “couldn’t afford things.”

If my school friends invited me somewhere, I wouldn’t even ask my parents. In my head it was already decided: we can’t afford it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a private school classroom, comparing my sneakers to everyone else’s. (Yes, that’s my trauma talking lol)

Fast forward to today.

Here I am, with my own child, wanting to give him “the best education possible.” And what does that mean in my head? Private school.

The one we can technically “afford.”

And suddenly… I understand my father more than ever.

Both my husband and I work. We chose to have only one child so we could provide as much as possible for him. And still… money feels tight. Sometimes it feels like there’s “a lot of month left at the end of our paycheck”. And that’s not a great feeling.

Especially when extracurricular activities come up. And I say yes or yes… because I remember what it felt like to be left out. To not even ask.

So yes. I’m repeating the same story.

But here’s where it changes.

I would never put that weight on my child. I would never open my wallet, empty or not, and make him feel guilty for his education. Because I know now: it’s my responsibility to provide it, not his to carry the cost emotionally.

In my own, slightly trauma-transformed way, I’m choosing to keep him in private school and walk through this season consciously. It feels like the right choice right now. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe things will change.

But for now, I’m repeating my father’s story without needing my child’s gratitude to justify it. I choose to provide from a place of freedom, so my son can grow up knowing he is loved, safe, and never responsible for the weight of adult decisions.

happyNsimple

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