“They’ll Have to Heal from Me”

“Knowing my kids will have to heal from me because I was late healing myself… and I carry that deep in my chest.”

That line stopped me cold. Because it’s real. It’s raw. And it’s me.

As a parent in recovery, as someone who’s battled depression, addiction, and my own demons, I know what it feels like to look back and realize my pain spilled over into the people I love most—my kids. I didn’t mean for it to happen. None of us do. But pain has a way of echoing. When we don’t heal, that hurt doesn’t just stay inside us—it passes through us.

There’s a kind of grief in that realization. It’s not the kind that shows up loud or dramatic. It’s quiet. It creeps in during the silence after a phone call with your kids, or when you see an old picture of them smiling before life got heavy. It’s the weight in your chest that whispers, “You could’ve done better. You should’ve been better.”

But here’s what I’ve learned—healing late is still healing. And healing now still matters.

Every step I take toward being healthier—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually—is a step that changes the story for my kids. I might not be able to rewrite the beginning, but I can change the next chapters. My kids may still have to heal from the old me, but maybe they’ll also learn something from watching the new me rise.

I can’t erase the pain I caused when I was lost in addiction, depression, or anger. But I can own it. I can talk about it. I can live differently now. And I can love louder than I ever did before.

The truth is, healing is never “too late.” It’s just on time for where you are right now.

And if you’re a parent like me—carrying that guilt, wondering if your kids will ever truly forgive, or if the damage runs too deep—remember this: kids may carry some scars, but they also carry love. They notice when you’re trying. They feel when you’re honest. They see the difference, even if they don’t always say it.

Maybe the real legacy isn’t being a perfect parent—it’s showing them that even broken people can rebuild. That faith, therapy, and recovery work. That God doesn’t waste a single tear or setback.

So yeah, I carry that pain deep in my chest. But I also carry hope. Hope that my healing will spark theirs. Hope that my story—our story—will remind someone else that it’s never too late to turn pain into purpose.

Because at the end of the day, love still wins. Even the kind that took the long road to get here.

By: Joshua Bridges