Restoring Bonds: Effective Strategies for Repairing and Nurturing Relationships

Let’s take a moment to reflect on a common experience many of us have had. If you’ve ever been in a relationship that truly matters to you—whether it's with a partner, a child, a friend, or anyone close to you—raise your hand. I imagine many of us have experienced this. Even though it might be obvious, it's always good to confirm our assumptions. (Pause for laughter) Today, I want to dive into how we handle those crucial moments of disconnection in our relationships. While I'll be focusing on parent-child dynamics, the principles I'll discuss are applicable to any meaningful relationship.

Picture this: It’s a typical Sunday evening, and I’m standing in my kitchen. I've just wrapped up cooking dinner for my family, and honestly, I’m feeling on edge. The exhaustion from the week is catching up with me. My sleep has been restless, and I’m dreading the workweek ahead. On top of that, I’m overwhelmed by the ever-growing list of tasks that remain unfinished. As if this isn’t enough, my son walks into the kitchen, glances at the dinner table, and says, “Chicken again?” He scrunches his face in disgust. (Pause for laughter) That’s it. I reach my breaking point. I snap and shout, “What is wrong with you? Can you not appreciate anything in your life?”

And it doesn’t stop there. My son, hurt and upset, retorts, “I hate you,” and runs off to his room, slamming the door behind him. Now, I’m left alone, engulfed in a wave of self-reproach. I’m thinking, “What’s wrong with me? Have I ruined my child forever?” If you’re a parent, you might have felt that deep pang of regret and self-blame. For me, it comes with an extra layer of shame because, as a clinical psychologist specializing in parenting, I should know better. (Pause for laughter)

Here’s the thing: there is no such thing as a perfect parent. We all make mistakes, and dealing with these moments of imperfection is part of the parenting journey. Yet, no one teaches us exactly how to move forward after a misstep. Should we just brush it off and act like nothing happened? Or is there a better way to address these situations?

As a clinical psychologist in private practice, I’ve seen countless clients grappling with this question. Now, as the creator of the parenting platform "Good Inside," I witness parents from around the world struggling with similar issues. One thing is clear: every parent loses their temper at some point, and figuring out what to do afterward is a common struggle. I’m determined to bridge this gap. After all, few things in our interpersonal relationships can have as much impact as the act of repairing a rift. When parents ask me for the most crucial parenting strategy to focus on, my answer is always the same: “Get good at repair.”

So, what exactly is repair? In essence, repair involves revisiting a moment of disconnection, taking responsibility for your behavior, and acknowledging its impact on the other person. It’s important to distinguish repair from a mere apology. An apology often aims to end the conversation quickly with a simple, “I’m sorry I yelled. Can we move on?” Repair, on the other hand, opens up a dialogue.

When you focus on getting good at repair, you embrace both realism and hope. Repairing assumes that a rupture has occurred. To repair, you have to acknowledge that you’ve made a mistake or fallen short of someone else’s expectations. So, the next time I snap at my child, my partner, or a coworker, instead of indulging in self-criticism, I remind myself that I’m working on getting better at repair. The first step is acknowledging the rupture. “Check that off, I’ve done it.” (Pause for laughter) The second step is repair. “I can handle this. I’m on the right path.”

Let’s return to my example. I’m in the kitchen, and my son is upset in his room. What happens if I don’t make an effort to repair? Understanding the consequences can guide us in deciding what to do next. My son is left alone, feeling overwhelmed and distressed because, to him, I’ve become “scary mom.” Without my intervention to help him process and feel secure again, he may turn to self-blame as a coping mechanism.

Self-blame sounds like this: “There’s something wrong with me. I’m unlovable. I cause problems.” Ronald Fairbairn once pointed out that for children, it’s easier to believe they’re at fault rather than to think the world or their parents are flawed. This internalization helps them feel that the world is safe and good. However, while self-blame may seem adaptive in childhood, it becomes detrimental in adulthood. “There’s something wrong with me. I cause problems. I’m unlovable.” These are core fears for many adults and stem from childhood experiences where distressing events went unaddressed. Self-blame in adulthood often leads to depression, anxiety, and feelings of worthlessness—issues we definitely want to avoid for our children.

Fortunately, we can do better. Repairing doesn’t mean we have to be perfect. When we repair, we do more than eliminate a child’s story of self-blame; we provide what was missing in the first place: safety, connection, coherence, love, and goodness. It’s like saying to a child, “I won’t let this chapter of your life end with self-blame. Yes, the chapter will include the yelling incident, but I will ensure it has a different ending, a new title, and a revised lesson.”

Memory is a combination of original events and every time we recall those events. Therapy helps because it allows us to revisit painful experiences in a safer and more connected context. The event itself remains, but our narrative around it changes, leading to personal growth. Through repair, we effectively alter the past. So, let’s create a better story and learn how to repair.

The first step in repair is addressing it with yourself. You can’t offer compassion, groundedness, or understanding to others until you have these qualities within yourself. Self-repair involves separating your identity—who you are—from your behavior—what you did. For me, it means acknowledging that while I’m not proud of my recent behavior, it doesn’t define who I am. Even as I struggle, I remain good inside. Recognizing this helps me see that I’m a good parent who had a difficult moment, not a bad parent. This realization doesn’t let me off the hook; rather, it motivates me to change. With self-compassion in place, I can focus on how to handle similar situations better in the future. This also enables me to approach repairing the relationship with my son with renewed energy.

The second step is repairing with your child. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all formula, but there are three key elements to consider: acknowledge what happened, take responsibility, and explain what you would do differently next time. For example, you might say, “I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night. I’m sorry I yelled. I realize that must have been frightening. It wasn’t your fault. I’m working on staying calm, even when I’m frustrated.” This brief, genuine conversation can have a profound and lasting impact. It replaces your child’s story of self-blame with one of self-trust, safety, and connection. What a significant improvement!

To further illustrate, here are a few examples of what not to do—common missteps that many of us, including myself, fall into. One example is, “I’m sorry I yelled, but if you hadn’t complained about dinner, it wouldn’t have happened.” (Pause for laughter) Another example is, “You really need to be grateful for things like a home-cooked meal; otherwise, you’ll get yelled at.” (Pause for laughter) These approaches fail to reconnect and suggest that the child is to blame for the reaction, which is neither true nor a good model for emotional regulation.

Now, if we successfully prioritize repair over placing blame, what might the impact be? Ideally, it means that as adults, our children won’t spiral into self-blame when they make mistakes or take responsibility for things that aren’t their fault. They’ll know how to own up to their actions because they’ve seen us model how to take responsibility for ours. Repairing with a child sets the foundation for healthy relationship patterns in adulthood.

Furthermore, once I’ve reconnected with my child, I can offer something even more impactful. I can teach them a skill they didn’t have before—how to change their behavior constructively. For instance, I might suggest, “You might not always like what I cook for dinner. Instead of saying ‘that’s disgusting,’ try saying ‘not my favorite.’” This lesson helps them manage disappointment and communicate effectively and respectfully. Such teaching moments wouldn’t occur if I were merely blaming them for my reaction.

You might be wondering, “What if my child is older, or if I’ve made more serious mistakes than you did in the kitchen? Is it too late?” Let me assure you: it is never too late. Imagine, after this discussion, receiving a call from one of your parents, or finding a letter from them that you hadn’t seen before. The call might go something like this: “Hi, I know this might sound unexpected, but I’ve been reflecting on your childhood. I realize there were moments that were difficult for you, and you were right to feel that way. Those moments weren’t your fault. They occurred when I was struggling, and if I could go back, I would have taken a step back, calmed down, and supported you through those times. I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk about those moments, I’m here to listen.