Why Love Alone Can’t Heal Trauma

Why Love Alone Can’t Heal Trauma

There are some chapters of life that are difficult to write about because they force you to revisit moments you never expected to survive.

Chapter 4 of Parenting Beyond The Breaking Point is one of those chapters.

For years, I believed that if I loved a child enough, stayed committed enough, and sacrificed enough, I could help them heal.

Then life confronted me with a truth I wasn't prepared for.

Love matters deeply.

But love alone is not enough.

The Phone Call That Changed Everything

One of the most unforgettable moments of my fostering journey came when I was seven months pregnant.

I had been feeling increasingly sick for weeks.

At the time, I assumed it was simply part of pregnancy.

Then I received a phone call.

The therapist working with one of our foster daughters, Emmy, asked me a question nobody ever wants to hear:

"Are you sitting down?"

Immediately, I knew something was wrong.

What came next felt impossible to comprehend.

Emmy had confessed that she had been poisoning me.

For more than a month.

While I was carrying a baby.

She had secretly obtained pesticide and had been placing it in my food and drinks. I remember sitting there in complete disbelief.

My first thought wasn't even about me.

It was about my unborn son.

The medical tests confirmed what nobody wanted to hear.

Pesticides were present in my bloodstream.

Thankfully, my baby was healthy and unharmed.

But the reality remained.

A child I loved.

A child I was trying to help.

A child who called me her safe person.

Had been trying to kill me.

That moment changed me forever.

The Misunderstanding Most People Have

When people hear stories like this, they often jump to one conclusion. The child must be evil.

I understand why people think that.

I used to think similarly before I entered the world of foster care and trauma parenting. But years of experience taught me something very different.

Most extreme behaviors don't come from evil.

They come from fear.

They come from pain.

They come from trauma that overwhelms a child's ability to cope.

In Chapter 4, I explain it this way:

"It's you and the child versus the trauma."

That mindset became one of the most important tools I had.

Because when you stop seeing the child as the enemy, you begin responding differently. Not with denial.

Not with permissiveness.

But with understanding.

The Big Idea That Changed My Perspective

The biggest lesson I learned during this season was simple:

Dangerous behavior is often a symptom, not the root problem.

Most people focus entirely on the behavior.

I learned to look underneath it.

What was the fear?

What was the wound?

What was the trauma trying to communicate?

Over the years, I saw trauma express itself in two primary directions. Some children turned their pain outward.

Others turned it inward.

One child tried to poison me.

Another balanced on balcony rails.

Others overdosed on medication.

Some threatened others.

Some threatened themselves.

Different behaviors.

Same root.

Overwhelming pain.

When I finally understood that, I stopped asking, "How do I stop this behavior?" And started asking, "What is this behavior trying to tell me?"

Looking Into the Sun

One phrase I often use is "looking into the sun."

It's my way of describing the courage required to face painful realities. Nobody wants to believe a child could become homicidal.

Nobody wants to believe a child could be suicidal.

Nobody wants to believe their family is facing something this serious. So many parents minimize warning signs because the alternative feels too frightening. I understand that instinct.

I've lived it.

But ignoring reality never protects anyone.

Healing begins when we look honestly at what is happening.

Not what we wish was happening.

Not what others assume is happening.

What is actually happening.

Only then can we respond wisely.

Nine Lessons Trauma Taught Me About Crisis Behavior

Over many years of parenting severely traumatized children, certain patterns became clear.

Trauma often pushes children toward dangerous behaviors for predictable reasons. Some children remain stuck in survival mode long after the danger is gone. Some experience psychosis and genuinely believe things that aren't real. Some learned violence because violence was modeled for them.

Others lack emotional regulation and impulse control.

Some are buried beneath unbearable shame.

Others find attachment terrifying because every previous relationship caused pain. Many are triggered by things invisible to everyone else.

Some younger children don't understand death.

And many desperately seek control after years of powerlessness.

Understanding these patterns doesn't excuse dangerous behavior. But it does help us respond with wisdom instead of panic.

The Hardest Lesson: Call for Help

One of the greatest mistakes I made was believing I could handle everything myself. I couldn't.

Neither can you.

When suicidal or homicidal behaviors appear, professional help is not optional. It's necessary.

For years, I fought against the idea of calling emergency services, behavioral health teams, and psychiatric professionals.

I worried people would judge me.

I worried children would be removed.

I worried I'd be seen as a failure.

Eventually, I realized something important.

The greater failure would have been doing nothing.

One practical lesson I now teach every parent is to have a simple script ready: "My child is in crisis. This is a mental health crisis, and I need help keeping them safe." Those words remove confusion and open the door to support.

The Small Victory That Changed My Thinking

One of the most important shifts didn't happen during a crisis.

It happened afterward.

After Emmy's hospitalization.

After the assessments.

After the safety planning.

I realized something I had resisted for years.

I could not heal trauma by myself.

That realization was painful.

It felt like failure at first.

But it wasn't failure.

It was freedom.

Because once I stopped carrying responsibility for fixing everything, I could focus on what actually mattered.

Creating safety.

Building connection.

Finding qualified help.

Supporting the healing process.

Instead of trying to become the solution myself.

That shift changed everything.

If You've Ever Felt Completely Overwhelmed

Maybe your situation looks different.

Maybe you're not dealing with homicidal or suicidal behavior.

But perhaps you've felt overwhelmed by a child you love.

Perhaps you've felt helpless.

Perhaps you've questioned your own abilities.

Perhaps you've wondered whether you're enough.

I understand.

Many of us enter parenting believing effort alone will solve every problem. Then life introduces circumstances bigger than our personal capacity. Those moments don't mean you've failed.

They simply mean you were never meant to carry everything alone.

A Five-Minute Exercise To Help You Face Reality

Here's a simple exercise inspired by one of the most important lessons from this chapter.

Step 1: Identify One Reality You've Been Avoiding

Write down one situation you've been minimizing, denying, or hoping will simply go away.

Step 2: Look at It Honestly

Ask yourself:

"What is actually happening?"

Not what you hope.

Not what others think.

What is true.

Step 3: Identify One Warning Sign

Write down one sign you've noticed but haven't fully acknowledged.

Step 4: Create One Safety Step

Choose one action you can take today.

It might be making a phone call.

Scheduling an appointment.

Creating a safety plan.

Asking for support.

Step 5: Reach Out

Write down one person you can contact if things become difficult. You do not have to do this alone.

What I Believe Now

After everything our family lived through, there are a few truths I hold onto deeply. Trauma is powerful, but healing is possible.

Ignoring reality never creates safety.

Asking for help is an act of courage, not weakness.

Children are more than their worst behaviors.

And hope has a way of returning.

I know that may be difficult to believe if you're currently walking through a dark season. There were times when I struggled to believe it too.

But I have seen children who seemed unreachable build healthy lives. I've seen healing happen where I once thought it was impossible.

I've seen light return.

If there's one thing I hope you take from Chapter 4 of Parenting Beyond The Breaking Point, it's this:

Do not face the darkness alone.

Look into the sun.

Tell the truth about what is happening.

Ask for help sooner than you think you need it.

And remember that even when trauma feels overwhelming, it is not the end of the story. Because the child standing in front of you is not their trauma.

And neither are you.