Am I Becoming My Parents? What’s Intergenerational Trauma
Have you ever caught yourself saying something your parent used to say and immediately thought, “I sound just like my mum,” or “I’m becoming my dad”? Alternatively, perhaps you’ve noticed yourself responding to stress, conflict or relationships in ways you always promised yourself you wouldn’t. For some people, it’s shutting down emotionally, for others, it’s becoming highly critical of themselves, avoiding conflict, constantly people-pleasing or feeling responsible for everyone else’s wellbeing.
We often recognize patterns in ourselves that seem familiar, even when we’ve consciously tried to do things differently. This raises the question. Why do some patterns seem to repeat across generations?
Occasionally in therapy, as we begin to explore a persons story together, the conversation slowly widens as we begin talking about parents, grandparents, siblings, childhood, family relationships, migration, loss, addiction, war, poverty or experiences of discrimination. The focus shifts from looking at a person in isolation to seeing them within the context of a much bigger story.
Many of the ways we protect ourselves make perfect sense once we understand the environments they developed within. While sometimes those environments belong to our own childhood, at other times they stretch back through our family history.
Therefore, can trauma actually be passed from one generation to the next?
What is intergenerational trauma?
Intergenerational trauma refers to the ways the effects of overwhelming experiences can continue to influence future generations. We inherit genes but we also inherit relationships, stories and ways of making sense of the world. Every family develops its own culture over time. There are beliefs about emotions, conflict, success, trust, vulnerability and what it means to be safe. Some of these beliefs are spoken openly, while others are often communicated without anyone ever needing to say a word.
For example, think about a family where emotions were rarely talked about. Perhaps a grandparent lived through war and learned that surviving meant staying strong, getting on with things and never looking back. Their children may have grown up with a parent who loved them deeply but struggled to express affection or talk about difficult emotions. By the time grandchildren arrive, emotional distance can simply feel like “the way our family is.”
No one consciously chooses it, it was passed on through relationships. The same can happen with anxiety, perfectionism, hyper-independence, people-pleasing or the belief that asking for help is a sign of weakness. These patterns often begin as intelligent adaptations to difficult circumstances. The problem is that they can continue long after the original danger has disappeared.
One of the things I find most compassionate about the idea of IFS is that it shifts the question away from “What’s wrong with me?” to “What happened?”. Adding to that, considering intergenerational trauma adds the question, “What happened to the people who came before me?”
Looking beyond blame
Understanding intergenerational trauma isn’t about blaming parents or previous generations. In fact, I think it invites us to do the opposite.
Most parents are doing the best they can with the resources they have available to them. The ways they respond to stress, conflict, closeness or uncertainty were shaped by their own experiences just as ours have been shaped by ours.
If someone grew up in a household where emotional expression wasn’t welcomed, it makes sense that they may later struggle to comfort their own children, not because they don’t care, but because no one ever modeled what that looked like for them. Likewise, if a family lived through war, forced migration, poverty, discrimination or family violence, the beliefs and behaviours that developed may have been incredibly adaptive at the time. The tragedy is that survival strategies often outlive the circumstances that created them.
A nervous system that learned to stay constantly alert may continue scanning for danger decades later. A family that learned never to trust outsiders may continue carrying that belief long after safety has returned. Children raised within these environments don’t usually experience them as unusual. They are simply the water they learn to swim in.
Intergenerational trauma is about more than families
When people hear the term intergenerational trauma, it’s natural to think about what happens within a family. We might think of a parent passing on patterns they learned in childhood, which then influence the next generation and so the cycle continues.
This is certainly one way trauma can be passed on, but it’s only part of the picture. Trauma doesn’t occur in isolation. Our lives are shaped not only by our families, but also by the communities, cultures and societies we belong to. Throughout history, entire populations have experienced events that profoundly disrupted safety, identity, culture and belonging. When these experiences are widespread, repeated or continue across generations, their effects can extend far beyond the people who directly lived through them.
For example. here in Australia, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander People continue to live with the ongoing impacts of colonisation. The dispossession of Country, violence, the forced removal of children through the Stolen Generations, suppression of language and culture, and generations of discriminatory policies have caused deep and enduring harm. These are not simply historical events that belong in the past. Their impacts continue to be felt today, influencing the health, wellbeing and lived experiences of many individuals, families and communities. This history is also one of remarkable strength, resilience and survival. Despite generations of oppression and attempts to erase culture and identity, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have maintained enduring connections to Country, culture and community and continue to lead healing grounded in these strengths.
Australia is not alone. Across the world, many Indigenous peoples and other communities have experienced the lasting effects of colonisation, slavery, war, genocide, forced migration and systemic persecution. While every history is unique, these experiences remind us that trauma is often shaped by broader social, cultural and political forces, not just individual or family circumstances.
While every community has its own unique history, these examples point to something important: trauma is never just an individual experience. It is shaped by the social, political, cultural and historical contexts in which people live. Recognising this broader perspective changes how we think about distress. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with this person?” we might begin asking, “What has happened to this person, their family, their community and the generations that came before them?” This shift matters because it reminds us that many of the struggles people experience today did not arise in a vacuum. They are often understandable responses to experiences that no individual, family or community should ever have had to endure alone.
As we’ll see next, trauma doesn’t have to be consciously spoken about to influence future generations. It can be transmitted in subtle and often invisible ways, through relationships, learned behaviours and even changes in the way our bodies respond to stress.
How does trauma get passed from one generation to the next?
If trauma can continue to influence future generations, the next question is how does that actually happen? For many years, people assumed the answer was simply that children copied their parents’ behaviour. While this is certainly part of the story, research over the past few decades has shown that the picture is far more complex.
Intergenerational trauma is not transmitted through a single pathway. Instead, it is thought to be passed on through a combination of our relationships, the environments we grow up in, the beliefs and coping strategies we learn and even the ways our bodies adapt to stress. Although researchers continue to explore exactly how these processes interact, three pathways consistently emerge: our relationships and attachment experiences, the behaviors and beliefs we learn from those around us and changes in the body’s biological stress response.
I will now explore each of these
1. Relationships and attachment
Long before children understand language, they are learning about the world through their relationships. From the moment we’re born, our brains and nervous systems are shaped by repeated interactions with the people who care for us. Through thousands of everyday moments, being comforted when we’re distressed, smiled at when we seek connection or soothed when we’re frightened, we gradually develop an internal sense of whether the world feels safe, whether other people can be trusted and whether our own thoughts and feelings matter.
Researchers refer to these early patterns as attachment. When caregivers are generally emotionally available and responsive, children are more likely to develop a secure attachment. They learn that relationships can be a source of comfort and safety and that difficult emotions can be managed with support. However, trauma can make this much harder. A parent living with unresolved trauma may desperately love their child while also struggling with emotional regulation, anxiety, depression, dissociation or hypervigilance. These are often the lingering effects of overwhelming experiences that changed the way the nervous system learned to respond to the world, rather than a lack of love.
As a result, children may grow up adapting to these environments in ways that once helped them feel safe. Some become highly independent because they learned not to rely on others. Some become people-pleasers, constantly monitoring the emotions of those around them. Others withdraw from relationships altogether or become intensely fearful of rejection and abandonment.
These adaptations are incredibly intelligent, because, at one point, they helped a child maintain connection, reduce conflict or navigate an unpredictable environment. The challenge is that the strategies that protect us in childhood don’t always serve us in adulthood. We may continue expecting rejection even in loving relationships, struggle to ask for help or feel responsible for everyone else’s emotions without understanding why.
This is one of the most common ways trauma is passed between generations, not because parents intentionally teach fear or insecurity but because children naturally adapt to the emotional worlds they grow up in.
2. Learned behaviours, beliefs and survival strategies
Children are constantly learning, from what they’re told, but also from what they observe. Long before we’re old enough to question the world around us, we’re taking in thousands of subtle messages about how people behave, what emotions are acceptable and what we need to do to be loved, safe and accepted.
If a child grows up in a home where conflict is avoided at all costs, they may learn that expressing their needs is dangerous. If they see a parent constantly putting everyone else’s needs first, they may come to believe that their own needs don’t matter. If they watch caregivers respond to stress with anger, withdrawal, perfectionism or substance use, these ways of coping can begin to feel normal.
No one needs to tell a child, “Don’t cry,” if every time they cry they’re ignored or criticised. Likewise, no one has to say, “You have to earn love,” if affection is only offered when they achieve, behave perfectly or meet other people’s expectations.
Over time, these repeated experiences become deeply held beliefs about ourselves and the world. We might come to believe that we have to stay strong all the time, that asking for help is a weakness, that conflict means relationships are ending or that we are responsible for keeping everyone else happy.
Children also absorb messages from schools, workplaces, the media, religious institutions, governments and the cultures they grow up in. These wider systems influence what emotions are acceptable, whose needs matter, how success is measured and what it means to belong.
For example, many children receive powerful messages based on how others perceive their gender. Those raised as boys are often taught, whether directly or indirectly, that vulnerability is a sign of weakness, while those raised as girls may learn that they are responsible for keeping others happy or putting their own needs last. Transgender, non-binary and gender-diverse people often face these expectations while also navigating misunderstanding, discrimination or pressure to conform. Children from marginalised communities may also repeatedly encounter messages that they are less valued, less capable or don’t belong. Over time, these experiences can become deeply internalised, shaping how people see themselves and relate to others.
From an Internal Family Systems perspective, many of these beliefs give rise to protective parts of us. A perfectionist part may work tirelessly to avoid criticism. A people-pleasing part may prioritise everyone else’s needs to prevent rejection. A highly self-reliant part may insist on handling everything alone because depending on others once felt unsafe. Creative survival strategies that developed in response to the environments we grew up in.
This is why people sometimes find themselves repeating patterns they never intended to repeat. Even when we consciously reject aspects of our upbringing, the lessons we learned about relationships, emotions and safety can continue to shape us until they are recognised and understood.
3. Our bodies adapt too: the role of biology
For many years, scientists believed that intergenerational trauma was passed on primarily through relationships and learning. While these pathways remain central, researchers have also begun exploring whether trauma may leave biological changes that can, in some circumstances, influence future generations (Yehuda & Lehrner, 2018).
This field of research is known as epigenetics. Certain experiences, particularly chronic stress, adversity and trauma, can influence whether some genes are more or less active, much like a dimmer switch can turn the brightness of a light up or down.
One of the most well-known studies illustrating this idea involved mice (Bias & Ressler, 2013). Researchers trained male mice to associate the scent of cherry blossom with a mild electric shock. Before long, the mice would freeze in fear whenever they smelled the scent, even when no shock followed. Interestingly, when these mice later had offspring, their pups, despite the male mice never raising or meeting their offspring, when their pups were later exposed to the same scent, they also showed heightened sensitivity and fear, despite never having experienced the shocks themselves or learned the response from their fathers. Similar patterns were observed in the next generation.
These studies suggest that profound experiences may influence biology in ways scientists are only beginning to understand. Human studies have also found intriguing biological differences among people whose parents or grandparents experienced severe trauma, including descendants of Holocaust survivors and other populations exposed to significant adversity (Yehuda & Lehrner, 2018; van IJzendoorn et al. 2019).
Our brains and bodies remain remarkably adaptable throughout life. Just as difficult experiences can shape the nervous system, supportive relationships, therapy, community, meaningful connection, physical health and experiences of safety can also promote healing. This ability to change is known as neuroplasticity, the brain’s capacity to form new pathways and adapt in response to experience (McEwen, 2012).
In other words, while trauma may leave its mark on both mind and body, those marks are not permanent. Human beings are not fixed by what has happened to them. We remain capable of growth, adaptation and healing throughout our lives. This is one of the most hopeful findings to emerge from modern trauma research. Although we may inherit the effects of previous generations’ experiences, we can also become the generation that begins to heal them.
Why this gives me hope
Sometimes it feels a little bit disturbing when recognising patterns from previous generations in ourselves. We may notice the same anger, anxiety or emotional distance we experienced growing up. We may find ourselves responding to our children in ways we never intended to. We may realise that the beliefs we hold about ourselves such as “I have to do everything alone”, “I can’t trust anyone”, “My needs don’t matter”, “I have to keep everyone happy”, didn’t begin with us. Within Internal Family Systems, these kinds of inherited beliefs, emotions and burdens are sometimes described as legacy burdens. The idea is that parts of us can carry beliefs and emotional burdens that may have originated in our family, culture or wider social systems.
The part of us that becomes angry may not be trying to ruin our relationships, it might carry a legacy of powerlessness, inherited from experiences in which previous generations had little control over what happened to them. Anger may have become a way of feeling powerful in a world that once felt powerless.
The part that withdraws may not be incapable of intimacy. Perhaps it has learned, through our own experiences or the experiences passed down through our family, that closeness can be dangerous and that withdrawing is safer than expressing our needs.
The part that constantly worries may not be trying to make our lives difficult. Perhaps it carries a deep expectation that danger is always around the corner, shaped by experiences of unpredictability and threat that may extend beyond our own lifetime. Constantly anticipating danger may once have helped someone survive an unpredictable environment.
Perhaps the part that puts everyone else first learned that maintaining connection was essential to safety and belonging. Perhaps this was a lesson learned in our own childhood or one that has been carried through generations of people who had to suppress their own needs in order to survive. Whether or not we can identify exactly where a burden began, recognising that it may not have originated entirely with us can create a powerful shift.
We might begin asking, “What am I carrying?”, “Where did I learn this?” or “Does this belief belong entirely to me?
These questions do not mean that every difficulty we experience comes from our ancestors. Nor do they mean that we need to search our family history for an explanation for everything we feel. Our experiences are shaped by many things, including what happens in our own lives, our relationships, our biology and the society we live in. However, understanding intergenerational trauma can help us see that we are not always starting from a blank slate. We may inherit fears we did not choose, learn survival strategies before we are old enough to question them, carry beliefs about ourselves and the world that were once necessary for someone else’s survival, but no longer serve the same purpose in our own lives.
For me this is where the it becomes hopeful. If patterns can be carried forward, they can also be interrupted. The same relationships through which trauma can be transmitted can become places of healing. The same nervous systems shaped by chronic stress can experience safety and change. Beliefs that have been passed down can be questioned. Protective strategies that have been needed for generations may eventually no longer need to work so hard.
We may not be able to change what happened to the generations before us directly, but we can begin to understand what their experiences may have left behind and doing so, we can make choices about what we continue to carry and what we no longer need to pass on.
This is what gives me hope about intergenerational trauma. We are shaped by what came before us, but we are not simply a repetition of it. We can be the generation that begins to set some of those burdens free.
Where do we go from here?
Understanding intergenerational trauma can help us recognise patterns that may otherwise feel confusing or shameful, however recognising a pattern is only the beginning.
The next question is “what do we do with what we carry?”
Internal Family Systems offers one way of exploring this question. Rather than viewing our difficult thoughts, emotions and behaviours as problems to eliminate, IFS invites us to become curious about the parts of us that carry them. In the next article, we’ll explore the Internal Family Systems concept of legacy burdens in greater depth.
If a burden was never truly ours to begin with, what might become possible when we begin to understand it, honour what it has been trying to do and consider whether we still need to carry it? We will explore not only what we may be carrying, but how we might begin to understand and heal the burdens that have been passed down to us.
See:
What does an IFS session look like
References
Dias, B. G., & Ressler, K. J. (2014). Parental olfactory experience influences behavior and neural structure in subsequent generations. Nature Neuroscience, 17(1), 89–96. https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.3594
McEwen, B. S. (2012). Brain on stress: How the social environment gets under the skin. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 109(Supplement 2), 17180–17185. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1121254109
van IJzendoorn, M. H., Bakermans-Kranenburg, M. J., Sagi-Schwartz, A., & Others. (2019). Intergenerational consequences of the Holocaust on offspring mental health: A systematic review of associated factors and mechanisms. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 10(1), 1654065. https://doi.org/10.1080/20008198.2019.1654065
Yehuda, R., & Lehrner, A. (2018). Intergenerational transmission of trauma effects: Putative role of epigenetic mechanisms. World Psychiatry, 17(3), 243–257. https://doi.org/10.1002/wps.20568
