Breaking Generational Trauma in Motherhood

The way I’m raising my daughters is very different to the way I was raised.

I am consciously breaking the generational trauma I grew up with. I am choosing not to pass it down.

But there is still a part of me that feels guilty.

Guilty that they have to grow up with a mum who carries so much past trauma.

Guilty that I’m still healing while raising them.

Guilty that I don’t have the family support I once imagined I would.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t carry any of it.

Sometimes I wish I was the kind of mum who had a big, loving family on her side to help raise her children.

The “Ideal World” That Doesn’t Exist

In an ideal world, my siblings and I would still have a great relationship.

We would see each other on weekends and festivals.

My girls would grow up with five older, overprotective cousins who would dote on them — and threaten to beat up anyone who dared to bully them.

In an ideal world, my daughters would be surrounded by the colourful Indian Hindu heritage that I grew to love. They would feel adored by my side of the family.

But they don’t.

They don’t know my side of the family.

Because of the bullying I experienced, I made the painful decision to walk away.

That means:

• No cousins at festivals.
• No big family weekends.
• No aunties stepping in with advice.
• No emotional support system to guide me through motherhood.

It’s just me and my husband figuring it out as we go.

And it hasn’t been easy.

Parenting While Healing

I still carry my past into my parenting.

Sometimes I react badly — especially when I’m angry. I’m still learning new coping mechanisms instead of defaulting to the childhood habits I witnessed and absorbed growing up.

And I hate when I slip.

But I am breaking cycles.

And I am proud of that.

Breaking cycles, however, means doing uncomfortable work. It means putting my needs first sometimes so I can show up better for my children.

And that is not easy.

The Weight of Mum Guilt

Mum guilt is huge for me.

Guilt for:

• Not being the “perfect” mum.
• Not always being emotionally available.
• Putting my own needs and dreams first.
• Wanting more than just being a wife, a mum, and an employee.

Putting myself first is new territory for me.

And it’s uncomfortable.

The Unexpected Shift

For those who don’t follow me on social media — my life has changed dramatically over the past few months.

Last October, I posted a TikTok carousel sharing the things I was told as a child and young adult — and how I overcame them.

It went viral.

In November, podcaster Mani Kaur invited me onto her show. I agreed, not fully realising what I was stepping into.

That episode on Mani Kaur TV (currently at 147K views) went viral too.

Suddenly, I was being approached for:

• A radio interview with BBC West Midlands
• A makeover collaboration with Nosh MUA
• Further podcast features

It all happened just before Christmas — a sacred time for my little family — so I postponed everything until January.

And I’m so glad I did.

We had the most beautiful Christmas. Just us. Movies, laughter, quiet family time.

I had no idea what the New Year would bring.

The Makeover That Became Friendship

The first thing I did in January was the makeover with Nosh MUA.

What an experience.

We had the most incredible girly day — laughter, conversations, confidence boosting. Moving from London to the West Midlands was the right decision for my family, but I left behind close female friendships.

That day reminded me of who I used to be.

And then her TikToks went viral.

In one week, the four videos she posted featuring me reached over a million views combined.

My Instagram exploded too.

BBC Radio and Beyond

Next came my live interview with Mya Khan on BBC West Midlands.

It was terrifying.

And I loved every second of it.

Two days later, BBC News published a follow-up article. My platform kept growing.

Then came the feature that truly changed everything — an interview with People of India, a platform that shares human interest stories across the South Asian community.

I went to bed with 836 followers on Instagram.

I woke up with 1,004.

By that night, I was at 1,200.

The DMs flooded in. Messages of support. Stories from people in toxic families. Invitations to collaborate.

And I realised…

This isn’t just attention.

This is purpose.

And Then Came the Tears

But here’s the part no one sees.

The mum guilt.

I’m currently writing this on a train to London for another podcast. I won’t be home until tomorrow evening.

Last night, Jiya cried.

She started off excited — helping me pack, ticking off my checklist — but as bedtime came closer, the tears started.

We cuddled.

She cried in my arms and fell asleep on me — something she hasn’t done since she was a toddler.

And yes… I took photos.

Because that’s what mums do.

She woke up, I tucked her into bed, and ten minutes later Maanvi came to tell me Jiya was crying again.

So I went back and lay beside her until she fell asleep.

This morning she was braver.

But sitting here on this train, my mind is still with her.

Her dad and Maanvi promised to look after her. I know she will be fine.

But being a mum means the worry never truly leaves.

Choosing More — Without Losing Myself

Nitin is incredibly supportive.

Maanvi is proud of me — sharing my interviews with her friends and teachers.

Jiya is proud too.

But she feels the shift more deeply.

And that’s what weighs on me.

Because these opportunities make me feel like the teenager I never got to be — hopeful, ambitious, passionate.

For the first time, I feel like I am becoming more than just the roles assigned to me.

I am a voice.

An advocate.

A woman building something of her own.

But pursuing that means stepping away from home sometimes.

And even though I know this will benefit my daughters in the long run, the guilt still whispers.

Yet I’m doing this for them.

To show them:

• Dreams don’t have an expiry date.
• Your past does not define your future.
• You are allowed to want more.
• And nothing should hold you back from becoming who you’re meant to be.

I am breaking generational trauma.

And I am breaking the idea that mums must shrink themselves to be good mothers.

Both can exist.

And I am learning to live with that.