The Integrated Masculine

I’ve had this theory in my mind for a while — maybe since becoming a parent myself — that most of us parent how we wish we were parented. We look at our upbringings, identify the shortcomings, the sources of trauma, and we do it our own way.

Now this theory is, of course, based only on my own perspective — that of a millennial who grew up in a home with what some might consider to be an explosive relationship between parents. Both of my parents came from large families, they both fall into the boomer category, and between them they had ten siblings (to the best of my knowledge). Perhaps conflict was something grounded in their own upbringing.

When I sit back and truly reflect on the people in my closest circles — the people I surround myself with — I can honestly think of less than a handful with parents from that generation who could be perceived as having “got it right” and who are still getting it right to this day. And sure, trauma behind closed doors is a real thing, but I personally believe our parents’ generation didn’t have the tools, the information, or the resources that we have in our current day and age.

Playing devil’s advocate to my own perspective, I have to acknowledge that the people I’m close to tend to share similar values, similar principles, and, often, similar trauma. As we age, those shared experiences draw us together. So yes, there may well be a large number of parents from that generation who succeeded in their parenting journey — but this entry is unlikely to resonate with those readers.

Defining the theory

I would say that the Parenting Cycle Theory works like this: we parent how we wish we were parented, just as our parents parented how they wished they were parented. In many cases, that means we still end up parenting in ways similar to how our parents were parented — even if we think we’re doing the opposite.

The cycle is driven by many factors, including our parents’ individual or combined ideas of love, the urge to overcompensate for what they lacked, unresolved trauma (a big one for certain generations), and societal conditions like economy, location, and education.

One thing I’ve always said to new parents is: don’t worry about parenting perfectly, because no matter how you end up doing it, you’ll get it wrong somehow. That might say more about my own relationship with my parents than I’d like to admit, but I think it’s more about giving new parents permission to make mistakes. No one knows how to parent before they are one — yet you’ll be met with a constant stream of advice, often conflicting, about how you “should” do it.

Make mistakes. It’s how we learn.

So the real question is: does the cycle always result in positive change? Or can it produce new and different shortcomings? In my experience, the answer can absolutely be both.

Different outcomes in action

Scenario A – Two parents work full-time and give their children a life of not wanting for anything. They provide full support for sports, hobbies, and education, continuing well into their children’s late twenties and even early thirties. The unintended result is that the now-adult children never develop the drive to work, earn, and reward themselves. They remain dependent on their parents, who are still working long hours to support not only themselves but also their adult children.

Scenario B – Two parents work very little during their children’s youth and adolescence, failing to model a strong work ethic. When they do work, they struggle to hold down employment due to substance abuse and the resulting mental health effects. The family grows up in poverty, albeit in a beautiful part of the world. The result is that the children develop a fierce drive to work and live a better life than they were given. They learn the value of hard work, self-reward, and contributing to society in a meaningful way.

Both scenarios demonstrate how the cycle can swing in either direction — creating unintentional consequences, sometimes even the opposite of what the parents hoped for.

A reflection on my own childhood

When I consider the aspects of my own upbringing, the ones I am intentionally making different for my son are:

Community – Despite growing up in a small coastal village, there was no real sense of community unless you travelled to the next major town — which was never an option for me or my sister. I want my son to grow up feeling part of something bigger than our household.

Emotional Safety – Our home environment was volatile, where mistakes were met with swift and severe consequences. One of my core childhood memories is making a mistake and my father quitting a job he had just started to come home and discipline me. What message does that send to a seven-year-old boy?

Love – This is the big one for me. Although I was told that all decisions made for us as children were “for our own good,” I rarely felt loved — mostly, I felt afraid. I make a conscious effort to tell my son I love him, and to back those words with consistent, loving actions.

When I asked myself which parts of my upbringing were actually beneficial — even if I didn’t realise it at the time — I had to dig deep to find the silver linings.

One was my ability to sit in silence and reflect. I spent many days alone on a beach, with no one in sight, contemplating whatever it is a child contemplates. There were no long-term friends nearby; school was my social outlet, but none of the local kids attended my school. As an adult, this has translated into being completely comfortable with my own company — something I’ve noticed many people my age struggle with.

Another was the skill of cooking from scratch. Living with the bare minimum meant all our meals were home-cooked, and from a fairly young age, my sister and I were expected to contribute to meal preparation. As adults, we’re both confident cooks, while some men older than me can’t boil an egg.

Generational influence

Parenting never exists in a vacuum — it’s shaped by the time and place in which it happens. Our parents’ generation — the boomers — were raised in the shadow of post-war values, with an emphasis on economic growth, hard work, and a “children should be seen and not heard” mentality. Emotional expression was often considered weakness, and discipline was equated with control.

It’s tempting to look back and think they should have “done better,” but they didn’t have access to the same resources we do now: parenting books, podcasts, therapy, online communities. Even if they had, the social norms of the time might have discouraged using them. Much of their parenting was learned behaviour — survival strategies passed down from even harsher environments.

The overcorrection effect

When we choose to parent based on what we wish we’d had, there’s a risk of swinging too far the other way. Avoiding the mistakes of our own parents doesn’t automatically mean we’re landing in a healthy middle ground.

A parent raised in poverty might overcompensate by ensuring their kids never go without — but in the process, they could rob them of resilience and problem-solving skills. Someone raised in a strict, emotionally distant household might lean so far into being a “best friend” to their child that they forget to set boundaries.

Overcorrection can be a force for innovation and kindness, but without awareness, it creates blind spots. Balance — not the exact opposite of what we experienced — is the goal.

Broadening the lens

While my perspective comes from a millennial upbringing in regional Australia, the Parenting Cycle Theory applies more broadly.

In some cultures, multi-generational living means children are influenced by a wide circle of adults, which can either reinforce positive patterns or lock in unhealthy ones. In others, strong community structures reduce the pressure on any one parent to “get it right,” because raising children is truly a collective effort.

And sometimes, the cycle isn’t about fixing what was broken — it’s about preserving what worked. Not everyone parents in reaction to trauma; some intentionally carry forward traditions, values, and approaches that served them well.

Breaking or continuing the cycle

Breaking an unhealthy cycle begins with recognising it exists — which can be uncomfortable, because it forces us to see the flaws in people we love. Acknowledging those flaws doesn’t have to mean resentment; it can mean gratitude for what they got right, paired with a commitment to improve on what they didn’t.

Breaking the cycle often involves finding the tools our parents didn’t have — therapy, emotional regulation, conscious communication, and a willingness to apologise when we get it wrong. It also means modelling the behaviour we want our children to learn, because they will mimic what we do far more than what we say.

Continuing a cycle can be just as intentional. If we were raised with stability, kindness, and encouragement, then protecting and passing that on is an equally valuable legacy.

For a deeper dive into breaking the cycle of generational trauma, you can find my previous entry on that here.

Future generations

I sometimes wonder what my son will decide to do differently when he’s a parent. It’s humbling — and a little unsettling — to know that, no matter how intentional I am, I’ll still get things wrong.

Maybe he’ll wish I pushed him harder. Maybe he’ll wish I’d let him take more risks. Maybe he’ll think I was too involved, or not involved enough. Whatever he decides, the cycle will continue.

He’ll take the foundation I’ve given him, keep what serves him, and adapt the rest to meet his own children’s needs in his own time. My hope is that, whatever changes he makes, he’ll know he was loved, supported, and prepared for life.

Because if there’s one universal truth, it’s this: every generation tries to give the next one a better starting point. Whether that’s materially, emotionally, or spiritually depends on what we valued most — and what we felt was missing.

How will you parent with intention?

Parenting is as much about self-discovery as it is about raising a child. The choices we make, the boundaries we set, the love we give (or withhold) — all of it is influenced by what came before us. Whether we’re breaking patterns, continuing traditions, or unknowingly repeating mistakes, we are all part of an ongoing, generational story.

The Parenting Cycle Theory isn’t about pointing fingers at the past; it’s about understanding the forces that shaped us, so we can be intentional about the forces we pass on. Our parents did the best they could with what they had, just as we are doing now. And one day, our children will stand where we are — sifting through their own childhoods, deciding what to keep and what to change.

If we can give them a foundation of love, safety, and the tools to think for themselves, then maybe — just maybe — the cycle moves forward in a way that serves them better than it served us.

–TIM