Mark: Here’s a wild thought: What if the most common advice for healing family trauma—'just forgive and move on'—is actually the worst thing you can do? What if holding on to your anger is the first step to getting better? It sounds wrong, but it might just be true. Michelle: That is the provocative, and for many, life-changing heart of the book we're diving into today: Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life by Dr. Susan Forward. Mark: And Dr. Forward isn't just anyone. She's a renowned therapist who founded the first private sexual abuse treatment center in California. This book comes from decades of seeing the real, lasting damage of harmful parenting up close in her clinical practice. Michelle: Exactly. She basically gave a name to a phenomenon millions were experiencing but couldn't define. And her first, most crucial point is about a myth we all buy into, a myth that keeps us trapped long after we've grown up and left home.

Mark: I'm curious about that, because the term "toxic parent" itself can feel a bit... loaded. Is it just about parents who are overtly abusive? Or is it something more subtle? Michelle: It's much broader, and that's the power of her work. It’s not just about physical or obvious abuse. It starts with a universal childhood belief: the myth of the perfect, godlike parent. When we're small, our parents are our entire world. They're all-powerful, all-knowing. Our survival depends on them. Mark: Right, it's a bit like believing in Santa Claus. It's a necessary fiction for a while. You need to believe the people in charge are good and have your best interests at heart. Michelle: Precisely. But what happens when these "gods" are flawed? When they're hurtful, or critical, or neglectful? A child's brain can't compute that. The child can't say, "My all-powerful provider is a mess." Instead, they conclude, "If they are treating me badly, it must be because I am bad." Mark: Wow. So the logic is, the gods are perfect, therefore I must be the problem. That's a heavy burden for a kid to carry into adulthood. Michelle: It's a crushing burden. And it creates a lifetime of denial and rationalization. Dr. Forward shares a heartbreaking story about a client named Sandy, a 28-year-old floral designer. Sandy came to therapy for depression, feeling deeply unhappy in her life and marriage. Mark: What was her story? Michelle: Sandy's parents were devoutly religious and extremely strict. When Sandy was a teenager, she got pregnant. Her parents were horrified and pressured her into having an abortion, something that went against their deepest beliefs. But instead of offering support, they used it as a weapon against her for the next decade. They constantly reminded her of her "mortal sin." Mark: That is just brutal. To use her own pain and a difficult decision against her like that. Michelle: It gets worse. Years later, Sandy is married and struggling with infertility. She's heartbroken. She calls her mother, looking for comfort, and what does her mother say? "Well, what did you expect? God is punishing you for the baby you killed." Mark: Oh, come on. That's unbelievably cruel. I can't even imagine. Michelle: And here is the core of the godlike parent myth. After hearing this, Sandy spirals into a deep depression. But when her therapist suggests that her parents' behavior was emotionally abusive, Sandy's first instinct is to defend them. She says, "But they're my parents. They've done so much for me. I'm the one who sinned." Mark: Why would she still seek their approval after all that? It seems so illogical from the outside. Michelle: Because the alternative is too terrifying. For Sandy, admitting her parents were cruel and destructive would mean the gods of her childhood were false. It would mean she was truly alone. It's a survival mechanism. If the gods are angry, it must be my fault, because the alternative—that the gods are capricious and cruel—is too existentially terrifying to consider. Mark: So you keep trying to appease them, hoping that one day you'll finally do the right thing and earn their love, even if it's a hopeless quest. Michelle: Exactly. You're trapped in a cycle of seeking approval from the very source of your pain. And that's why Dr. Forward argues that the first step to healing is taking your parents off that pedestal. It’s about seeing them not as gods, but as flawed human beings who made damaging mistakes.

Michelle: And that terror of facing the truth is why the more subtle forms of toxicity are so insidious. It’s not always about overt cruelty like Sandy experienced. Sometimes, as the book's chapter title so perfectly puts it, 'the bruises are all on the inside.' Mark: This is the stuff that's harder to pin down, right? The things that don't leave a physical mark but can shape your whole personality. Michelle: Yes, and Dr. Forward categorizes these into several types, but two really stand out: the Inadequate Parent and the Controlling Parent. The Inadequate Parent is often not malicious, just... incapable. They're so wrapped up in their own problems—depression, anxiety, their own trauma—that they can't meet their child's emotional needs. In fact, the roles often get reversed. Mark: The child becomes the parent. Michelle: Precisely. There's a story about a man named Les, a successful business owner who was a chronic workaholic. His relationships kept failing because he couldn't connect emotionally. In therapy, he revealed that when he was eight, his mother had a nervous breakdown. His father was distant and always traveling for work. So little Les, at eight years old, became the man of the house. He cooked, he cleaned, he took care of his younger brothers, and he spent his childhood trying to cheer up his depressed mother. Mark: He never got to be a kid. Michelle: Never. And when his therapist expressed sympathy for his lonely childhood, Les's response was, "I had too much to do to feel sorry for myself." As an adult, his workaholism was just a continuation of that role: he was still trying to take care of everyone, to fix everything, because he never learned how to just be and receive love. Mark: That's a quiet tragedy. He wasn't beaten or screamed at, but he was robbed of his childhood. And then you have the other side of the coin. Michelle: The Controlling Parent. If the Inadequate Parent is defined by absence, the Controller is defined by being far too present. Their control can be direct—threats, intimidation—or, more often, it's manipulative. It's wrapped in the language of love. "I'm only doing this for your own good." Mark: Which really means, "I'm doing this because I'm terrified of you becoming your own person and leaving me." Michelle: You've got it. The book tells the story of Michael, an advertising executive whose parents lived in Boston. He moves to California and marries a woman they disapprove of. The parents launch a campaign to get him back. The peak of this is when his mother calls, feigning a life-threatening illness to guilt him into flying back for their anniversary party. Mark: No, she didn't. Michelle: Oh, she did. And his wife is at home, seriously ill with the flu. But Michael, trapped by guilt, gets on the plane. He goes to the party. And even then, it's not enough. They pressure him to stay longer. His father calls him, claiming his mother is on the verge of a stroke because he's leaving. It's a masterclass in emotional manipulation. Mark: It sounds like two sides of the same coin. One parent is absent, the other is too present. But in both cases, it's all about the parent's needs, not the child's. The child is just an instrument for the parent's emotional regulation. Michelle: That's a perfect way to put it. And it's why so many adult children of toxic parents feel like they're not really adults. They're still reacting to their parents' needs, still playing by their rules, whether through compliance like Michael or even through rebellion. Their parents are still in the driver's seat of their lives. Mark: This book was first published in 1989. In today's world of helicopter parenting, lawnmower parenting, all these new terms... does this idea of the 'Controlling Parent' feel even more relevant now? Michelle: I think it's incredibly relevant. The methods may have changed—it might be tracking your kid's location on an app or managing their college applications for them—but the underlying dynamic is the same. It's a fear of the child's independence, a need to be needed that ultimately stifles the child's ability to develop their own identity.

Mark: Okay, so we see the problem. The godlike myth, the subtle control, the invisible wounds... it's a mess. But what's the way out? This brings us back to my opening question about forgiveness. The cultural script says you have to forgive to heal. Michelle: And this is where Dr. Forward drops her most controversial, and perhaps most liberating, idea. The chapter is titled, "You Don't Have to Forgive." She argues that for many survivors, premature forgiveness is a trap. It short-circuits the healing process. Mark: How so? It seems counterintuitive. Michelle: Because true healing requires you to fully acknowledge the harm that was done and to feel the legitimate anger that comes with it. Forgiveness, especially when it's pressured by religion or society, can become another form of denial. It's a way of saying, "Let's just pretend it wasn't that bad so we can all feel comfortable again." Mark: You're just sweeping it under the rug, but this time you're calling it spiritual growth. Michelle: Exactly. She tells the story of Stephanie, a young woman who had survived horrific sexual abuse from her stepfather. She became a devout born-again Christian and was adamant in therapy that she had forgiven him. But she was still deeply depressed and self-destructive. Her "forgiveness" was a mask for a mountain of unprocessed rage and grief. Mark: So what happened? Michelle: The therapist gently encouraged her to "unforgive," to give herself permission to be angry. Stephanie resisted for a long time, but one day in a group session, the dam broke. She erupted, screaming and cursing her parents for destroying her childhood. It was raw and painful, but it was the breakthrough. Afterwards, she said something profound: "I guess God wants me to get better more than He wants me to forgive." Mark: Wow. That gives me chills. It's reframing the entire goal. The goal isn't to absolve the person who hurt you. The goal is for you to heal. Michelle: That's the core of it. Dr. Forward makes a brilliant distinction. She says forgiveness has two parts. The first is giving up your right to revenge, to get even. That's healthy. The second part is absolution—wiping the slate clean, saying "you are no longer responsible." And that, she argues, is what's damaging. The parents are responsible. Placing responsibility where it belongs is a critical step in taking it off of yourself. Mark: This is where the book gets some pushback, right? It's highly rated and has helped countless people, but this point is polarizing. Some readers feel it's too harsh, that it encourages holding onto anger. Michelle: It is polarizing, and it's a fair critique to discuss. But the book's goal isn't to have you stay angry forever. Anger is the fuel, not the destination. The anger fuels the process of self-definition. It gives you the energy to say, "No more." The destination is creating a new relationship with your parents, one where you are a self-defined adult. Mark: So what does that look like in practice? How do you use that anger constructively? Michelle: It's about changing your behavior. It's about moving from reacting to responding. Reacting is when your parent pushes a button—guilt, fear—and you automatically jump. Responding is when you feel the emotion, acknowledge it, but then make a conscious choice about how you'll act, based on your own needs and values. Mark: You stop letting them pull your strings. Michelle: You cut the strings. And you do that by making clear, non-defensive position statements. Not "You always make me feel guilty!" which is an attack, but "I will not be making decisions based on guilt anymore. I will be spending Christmas with my own family this year. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but that is my decision." Mark: No arguing, no explaining, no justifying. Michelle: None. As Dr. Forward says, "The moment you argue, apologize, or explain, you have handed over your power." The goal of confrontation isn't to make them see the light. They probably won't. The goal is for you to state your truth and define the new terms of the relationship, for your own sake. It's an act of reclaiming your life.

Michelle: When you look at the whole arc of the book, it's a powerful journey. We start by deifying our parents out of a need for survival. Then we get trapped by their needs, their inadequacies, their control. And the way out isn't through some magical act of forgiveness. It's through the hard, messy, courageous work of defining who we are, separate from them. Mark: It's a powerful shift in perspective. Instead of asking, "How can I fix my relationship with them?" or "How can I finally get them to love me the way I want?", the book forces you to ask a different question: "How can I take responsibility for my own life, starting today?" Michelle: That is the ultimate question. It's about absolving the child you were—you were not to blame. But it's also about embracing the adult you are now, who has the power to make different choices. Mark: It really makes you think. It poses a reflective question for all of us, whether our parents were "toxic" or just imperfect. What's one belief about your family, or one role you play, that you've held onto for years, that maybe deserves a second look? Michelle: That's a great question for our listeners to ponder. This book is challenging, and it can bring up a lot, but it’s also incredibly empowering. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Join the conversation on our social channels. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.