Growing Up in the Storm: How Angry Families Shape Children and Adults

Growing Up in the Storm: How Angry Families Shape Children and Adults

Some families live in a storm. Not the kind that happens outside with rain and thunder, but a storm that lives inside the home. It is made of shouting, blame, silence, and deep pain. And when a child grows up in that kind of emotional weather, it leaves a mark that does not fade easily.

My life began in such a storm. My parents divorced when I was very young, which was uncommon at the time. My mother took me and my older brother to live with her parents in the Bronx. That apartment was crowded with people and noise, but it never felt safe. My grandfather and my mother argued constantly. The air in that home often felt tense and unpredictable.

After World War 11, my youngest uncle moved in with us. He had returned from World War II a changed man, filled with anger and unable to cope with what he had been through. He often directed that anger at me. He yelled at me, criticized me, and made me feel small. But he supported my brother. Everyone seemed to take my brother’s side, and no one took mine.

I felt like I didn’t belong. When no one stands up for a child, that child may begin to believe they are not worth standing up for. I became anxious, nervous around people, and afraid of making mistakes. I withdrew from others. Even as I grew older, I felt uncomfortable in social situations and carried the weight of not being seen or valued.

The chaos I grew up in shaped who I became. I looked fine on the outside, but inside I was filled with self-doubt. I often wondered what was wrong with me. Why did I feel this way? The answer was found in that Bronx apartment, where the storm never seemed to stop.

Later in life, when I became a psychotherapist, I began to work with children and their families. I started to see that my story was not unusual. Many children came into my office carrying the same fear I had known. They had learned to walk on eggshells, to stay quiet, to be careful not to upset the adults around them. They carried worry and guilt and often believed they were the reason for the fighting in their homes. When no one tells them otherwise, those beliefs sink deep into the child’s heart.

But I also came to understand that the parents in these families were hurting too. Many of them had grown up in homes filled with the same kind of yelling and blame. They had never learned how to express anger without causing harm. They had never felt loved or understood. So they brought their pain into their own families, not out of cruelty, but because it was all they knew. People who are hurt and don’t know how to talk about it often pass their pain on to others. They shout when they feel helpless. They blame when they feel ashamed. They try to control others when they themselves feel out of control.

My job was to help break that cycle. I tried to help parents see what their children were feeling. I tried to help children understand that the fighting was not their fault. I created a space where they could begin to feel safe enough to speak their truth. Sometimes that opened the door to healing. Sometimes it took longer. But I always believed that families could change if they were willing to learn and to try.

In my work, my past helped me connect with the children who came to see me. I knew what it was like to feel alone, to wish for kindness, and to be afraid. That understanding helped me offer something more than therapy. It helped me offer real empathy.

We are all shaped by the homes we grow up in. But we do not have to stay stuck there. With patience, honesty, and care, change is possible. I have seen it happen in others. I have felt it happening in myself. And if this story can offer comfort or hope to someone else still finding their way through the storm, then it has done its work.