What Your Daughter is Saying in Therapy That You Never Hear at Home

Over the past few years, I have worked with a growing number of young women between who present with symptoms such as self-harm, suicidal ideation, eating disorders and an entrenched sense of self-loathing. While every case is different, and there are multiple reasons why these symptoms occur, I wanted to talk about a recurring pattern that has become difficult to ignore specific to emotional or physical abuse. When I begin to explore the context of their distress, there is very often a damaged or conflicted relationship with their mother.

This is not about blaming mothers, nor is it about oversimplifying complex family systemsand disorders. This is specific to abuse. It is about noticing patterns that have serious consequences. In many of these cases, the young person is carrying something much deeper than what they come into the room for. They believe, sincerely and painfully, that they are unlovable. And when we trace that belief back, it frequently leads to experiences of harm within the home that were minimised, justified or normalised.

There are two forms of harm that commonly appear in these narratives. The first is emotional and physical abuse that has been reframed as discipline or cultural normality. The second is sexual abuse, particularly when disclosure is dismissed or silenced. They are distinct forms of trauma, but both become profoundly damaging when the parent fails to validate the child’s experience.

Abuse in the Home: What is Normalised is not Always Harmless

In many households, particularly those where intergenerational trauma has never been examined, emotional and physical aggression is normalised.

The slipper thrown across the room.
The slap delivered in anger.
The dragging by the arm or by the hair.
The shouting that strips a child of dignity.

These moments are often joked about, especially in what has been coined #slipper humour online, sometimes involve much more than a slipper. They are framed as harmless, as character building, as something everyone endured and survived.

But a child experiences these moments very differently.

What is comical in a social media clip is not comical to the child who feels fear in their body. The slap is not a joke. The humiliation is not candid. Being dragged or shouted at is not evidence of strength. It is abuse. It communicates to a developing nervous system that love is conditional and safety is unstable.

In therapy room, young girls justify the abuse because of character trains they had as children, atleast those that they were told they had, maybe labelled as silly, annoying, or just too sensitive. They speak about themselves with the same contempt that was once directed at them. When I ask where that voice began, it often coincides with the years they were most criticised or physically disciplined. Heres the thing though, they do not describe anger toward their parent. They describe shame toward themselves.

Parents sometimes respond by saying they were raised the same way and “turned out fine.” But I often wonder what fine means.

Fine does not sit in therapy at sixteen believing you are fundamentally unlovable.
Fine does not carve pain into skin.
Fine does not stand at the edge of a train platform wondering if anyone would care if you disappeared.

Our youth internalise what they are repeatedly shown. If discipline comes wrapped in humiliation, the child learns that they are the problem. If anger replaces comfort, they conclude that their emotions are unacceptable. Over time, this internalised shame becomes self-harm, eating disorders, substance abuse or suicidal ideation. The parent then questions why their child is “bad” or “attention seeking,” without recognising the role they played in shaping that narrative.

Let me be clear. This is not about condemning parents. Many mothers carry their own unprocessed trauma. Many were raised in environments where emotional suppression and physical aggression were normal. But normal does not mean harmless. Unexamined pain in a parent often becomes inherited shame in a child.

Sexual Abuse and the Trauma of Being Unprotected

Separate from emotional and physical harm within the home is the trauma of sexual abuse. When sexual abuse occurs, particularly within the family or extended family, the violation is profound. It is a breach of bodily autonomy and trust. But what frequently compounds this trauma is the response to disclosure.

When a child of any age tells a parent about sexual abuse and the response centres family reputation, denial, minimisation or protection of the perpetrator, a second trauma is created. The child learns that the shame of the abuser is more consequential than their own safety. They may be told to keep quiet to avoid breaking the family. They may sense that speaking up has created discomfort or conflict. The message they absorb is clear: maintaining cohesion matters more than protecting you.

In these cases, the psychological toll is severe. The child often questions their memory and their reactions. They may convince themselves it was not serious. They may feel responsible for the disruption caused by speaking out. Over time, the shame becomes internalised.

When I ask these young women what they believe about themselves, many say they feel fundamentally broken. They describe a persistent sense that something is broken inside them. And when self-harm or suicidal ideation emerges, it is rarely random. It is an attempt to manage unbearable shame and grief that were never validated.

Sexual abuse is devastating. But sexual abuse followed by parental invalidation reshapes a young person’s entire understanding of love, loyalty and safety.

It Is Not Too Late to Make It Right

None of this is written to condemn mothers. Children do not need perfect parents. They need parents who are willing to look honestly at their own behaviour and make it right.

Repair begins with acknowledgement. Not justification. Not minimising. Not “I did my best.” A sincere apology without a “but” can shift something profound. “I was wrong.” “You did not deserve that.” “I should have protected you.” These words validate a child’s reality in ways that silence never could.

But apology alone is not repair. Change must follow. Love has to be shown in ways the child experiences as safe. That may mean learning to regulate your own anger before speaking. It may mean listening without interrupting or correcting. It may mean accepting that your child’s pain will surface repeatedly, and responding with patience rather than defensiveness.

Trust will not return overnight. It was eroded over time, and it will rebuild over time. You may not see immediate warmth or forgiveness. Your child may remain guarded. That does not mean your efforts are pointless. It means the wound was deep. Stay consistent. Stay steady.

And understand this: the way you treat your child does not end in your home. It shapes how they see themselves, how they form relationships, how they raise their own children, and how they move through the world. When a child grows up believing they are unworthy of love, that belief does not remain private. It ripples outward. Into partnerships. Into parenting. Into communities. The emotions in the child will surface — in distance, in resentment, in mental health crises, in fractured adult relationships. The impact of unexamined behaviour does not disappear. It transfers.

It is never too late to become the safe place your daughter once needed. But that safety begins with you.