What Have We Inherited?"
Unpacking the Beliefs, Behaviors, and Stories That Aren’t Really Ours
Whenever I hear men complaining about how their wives are "excavating" their salaries… Or mocking her family—her parents, her siblings—like they’re a burden he never asked for… Or even calling their children her kids, like he somehow wasn’t part of the making…
Whenever I hear a woman slicing her husband down for being selfish or spineless, calling him his mother’s boy or his sister’s servant, rolling her eyes at his every move…
Or when parents vent—loudly, publicly, and often—about how children are exhausting, money-sucking, dream-blocking little humans who ruin vacations and wreck any chance of peace…
And we hear those conversations everywhere. At the park. Over coffee. In rushed voice notes between errands. In late-night reels and over-shared memes.
Always the same story, just retold with slightly different characters.
I think to myself: How deeply embedded are these stories in us?
Because what I’m really hearing isn't just frustration—it's a script. A storyline we’ve been handed down. One we didn’t write ourselves, but one we play out nonetheless.
These stories—about cursed husbands, impossible wives, annoying children—have been sewn into us since childhood. We’ve heard them at gatherings, in TV shows, in passing remarks, sometimes even in jokes. They've become so familiar that to have a different version of the “usual” would not only sound strange, but it would even feel like a betrayal, not just to the listener, but to the speaker too.
Why?
And unfortunately, although most of these narratives aren’t working, we still cling to our misery simply because our bodies get addicted to the emotions these stories bring—resentment, frustration, superiority, self-pity. It might be misery, but it’s familiar misery. And the brain will fight hard to protect what’s familiar.
We tell ourselves it's “just life,” but in truth, we’ve adapted to the dysfunction. We’ve built emotional homes out of inherited pain.
But let’s be honest—both ends of the spectrum are easy. Playing the victim or the villain, the martyr or the monster—it’s all easier than doing the messy work of unlearning. Of seeing clearly.
But this is important: it’s not just this or that. These polarized extremes—resentful wife, absent husband, irritating children—are easy, again although miserable but a familiar territory. They’re lazy stories. They keep us numb. And worse—they keep us stuck.
But children are not a hurdle to life. Not to men, and definitely not to women. When seen clearly, when held rightly—they embellish life. They bring depth, perspective, growth, wild joy.
It's capitalism and patriarchy that have diminished their worth—insisting only male children matter (and only to carry their father’s name), erasing the sacred in parenting altogether.
Wives are not “those women” said with sarcasm and disdain. They are not “just hormones” or “emotional wrecks.” They are partners. Pillars. The soft point of view in a world that demands hardness.
Husbands are not just dominance and detachment. Not the stone wall that blocks light. They’re not the enemy in every story of female strength.
Men—when rooted in presence—bring steadiness, protection, and quiet strength to a chaotic world.
Husbands can be deeply loyal partners, grounding their families with devotion, vision, and love that acts more than it speaks.
And their families—his and hers—are your families too. With their quirks and clashing ways, they stretch us into maturity. Into compassion. Into humility.
If any of this doesn’t hold true with you, then think again. Because most probably the problem is not them but your perspevtive to the world. Maybe it’s your lens. Your inherited beliefs. The narratives you’ve absorbed without consent.
The differences in gender, age, personality, and preference around us were never meant to divide or distress.
They were meant to shape us. To challenge us. To reveal what to keep—and what to finally let go of.
And the culprit isn’t just the environment or your upbringing.
Look at the media we consume:
TikToks mocking emotionally available men. Reels that ridicule birthing women. Viral jokes about marriage, parenting, feminism, masculinity—painted in such extremes that the only “options” left are toxic masculinity on one end and bitter radical feminism or blind submission on the other.
No wonder we're confused. These extremes have flattened our understanding of partnership, parenting, and personhood.
But we don’t have to live in those binaries.
There is another way.
A gentler way.
A truer way.
A gentle process for letting go of inherited identities that no longer serve us.
So ask yourself:
Which generational belief are you ready to challenge today?
This is not a “how to” post, I don’t have nay tools for you today. I was just shedding a light on a blind spot that we rarely notice.
We get over the stories that have shaped our lives by first noticing them. Naming them. Seeing them as stories—not facts.
Then, we pause long enough to question:
Is this true? Is this mine? Is this serving me—or just familiar?
From there, we begin to rewrite. Gently. Intentionally. We collect new experiences, seek out new voices, and allow new narratives to take root—ones that align with the life we want, not the one we inherited.
It’s not about erasing the past. It’s about loosening its grip—so we can finally choose our own story.
If today’s reflection stirred something in you—if you’re beginning to question the old stories and crave a clearer path forward—I created something that might help.
🌀 The Clarity Experience Workbook is a gentle, free guide to help you reconnect with your voice, your values, and your next step. You can download it here, or just hit reply and I’ll send it your way personally. I’d love to hear what it brings up for you.
With Love,
Norah.