It hit me hard, because every day I sit across from people whose marriages are ending—because of infidelity, abuse, addiction. And the question always comes up: What do I tell my kids? How much do they need to know?

There are a lot of opinions out there. But years ago, I made a pact with myself: I would never speak badly about the people my kids loved.

Protecting Childhood

I was an adult by the time I was 10. I knew things no child should have to carry. And because of that, I wanted something different for my kids. I wanted them to be kids. To go to slumber parties. To swim all summer. To worry about grades and friendships—not about adult betrayals or broken promises.

That choice wasn’t always easy. Kids don’t always understand why you’re holding back. They’ve never had an adult relationship, so they can’t see the full picture. But I believed then—and still do—that they deserved the gift of innocence for as long as possible.

 My Story 

Years later, when my own story was going to be published, I had to face a new question: How would my kids feel about me sharing it?

By then, they were grown. My son was serving in the Air Force, and my daughter was finishing her Master’s degree. I scheduled a Zoom call with both of them. I told them honestly: if this hurt them, I would turn it down.

Their responses surprised me. My son got tearful and said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you.” My daughter said softly, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

I told them what I had always believed: It wasn’t their job to parent me. I was their mom. My job was to protect them, not the other way around.

That conversation was bittersweet. A part of me wished I had been given that kind of protection as a child. But it also brought us closer. Since then, we’ve had many conversations that deepened our bond.

Breaking Generational Patterns

The purpose of telling my story was never to “out” anyone. It was to turn something painful into something purposeful. To help others. And in the process, it helped me too.

If there’s one thing I’ve tried to pass on to my children, it’s this: you don’t have to repeat the patterns you were born into. You can choose differently. You can choose partners with honesty, kindness, and integrity. You can build relationships on trust instead of secrets.

That’s how generational cycles are broken—not by pretending the pain never happened, but by being honest about it, and then choosing a better way forward.

Not Regretting You

So no, I don’t regret the choices I made to protect my kids. I don’t regret the years I put myself second so they could have a childhood. I don’t regret the silence I kept when it came to adult betrayals.

Because what I see now—two grown children thriving, compassionate, and supportive—is proof that the sacrifices were worth it.

I don’t regret them. I don’t regret me. And I certainly don’t regret you.

Your Turn

Now I want to turn this to you:

• What choices have you made to protect your children—or yourself—from repeating painful patterns?

• How do you balance honesty with protection when it comes to hard truths?

• What do you hope your children (or the next generation) will carry forward from your story—and what do you hope they’ll leave behind?

Take a moment to reflect. Maybe even write it down. Because the stories we tell—and the ones we choose not to tell—shape the legacy we leave.