For many people, a lifetime is spent running from painful truths, pushing down authentic feelings, and avoiding the fears of resolving childhood repression. We build defenses to protect ourselves from these repressed emotions, hoping that time will bury them forever. But time does not erase unhealed wounds; it merely waits.
The Circuit Breaker That Trips
When old age or the end of life arrives, the defenses we relied on for decades begin to crumble. Physical strength diminishes, independence fades, and we become vulnerable and dependent on others once again. Old age becomes the ultimate trigger for unresolved, repressed emotions we spent a lifetime fleeing by projecting and transferring onto scapegoats.
When decades of unresolved, repressed emotions burst through all at once—and with no vulnerable scapegoats left to absorb them—a person becomes overwhelmed and loses control, like a circuit breaker tripping under a massive power surge. We often label this collapse as dementia, mental illness, or a psychotic break.
As explored in the post
“The behavior of your father showed one of the ways how repressed memories can bother a person who has lost his defenses against emotions that he has had at his disposal his whole life. He may lose his control and cry for attention, something he never dared to do in his childhood. Another person may become totally erased. Aging triggers the traumatic memories because we become again dependent on others when our forces decrease. This dependency demands again facing our old history. Alzheimer's disease is then the alternative to continuing therapy. Either remember the old pain again or deny whatever comes up - as has been done the whole life (PTSD).”
Without conscious emotional healing, old age becomes a person's final reenactment of their childhood drama.
The Role Reversal: Unconscious Revenge in Caregiving
When adult children have not confronted and healed their own childhood trauma by consciously feeling their painful emotions within the context of their childhood, a dark dynamic often unfolds at the end of life. Under the guise of "care and concern," unhealed adult children will unconsciously and compulsively take revenge on their now-fragile parents.
I see this happening with people close to me. Aging, vulnerable family members now fear their own adult children, just as those children once feared them as small, defenseless children. The power dynamic simply flips: the aging parent becomes the defenseless child, and the adult child steps into the role of the powerful, controlling parent.
In 2022, I wrote to a niece who is treating and stalking her 88-year-old mother—and everyone in her circle—in the exact way her mother had once stalked and treated her:
“The only change you have made in your life is changing or reversing the roles - now you play the role of your powerful mother, she once was, and your mother now plays the role of the vulnerable, defenseless child you once were. Still, you remain in the emotional prison of your childhood, nevertheless.”
— Read more in
One More Birthday
When unhealed adult children become caregivers, the damage doubles.
The Hard Truth About Caregiving
Research shows that family members represent nearly 60% of elder abusers, with two-thirds of those abusers being adult children or spouses. When the balance of power shifts and the parent becomes dependent, the adult child who has never healed unconsciously and compulsively seizes the opportunity for revenge. Violence becomes a learned behavior that repeats itself through generations.
But acknowledging this pattern isn't about blame—it's about awakening. It's about seeing how unresolved childhood repression shows up in our relationships, especially in life's most vulnerable stages. The past always catches up with us in our relationships with others, and especially with our children if we have any.
Breaking the Cycle or Protecting Oneself
In her final book, Beyond Taboos, Swiss psychoanalyst Alice Miller addressed a reader who believed even abusive parents have a right to be cared for by their children:
“If your health suffers from visiting your parents, you must decide whether you want to make this sacrifice, and clarify why. You write that even abusive parents have the right to be cared for by their children. I do not understand that. Why shouldn't one prefer to be cared for by strangers instead of by people whom one has gravely harmed, sometimes for a lifetime, and who must deny their feelings at the expense of their own health because lies are more highly valued in society as a whole than the sad truth? Isn't the damage merely doubled that way?”
— Cited in
Beyond All Taboos
People who have unhealed adult children are often far better off being cared for by neutral strangers in old age than by children who harbor deep-seated, unresolved, repressed rage.
Alice Miller herself made the painful decision to go completely no-contact with her adult son, Martin, to protect herself in her old age after he refused to heal his childhood wounds and grew into a malignant narcissist. (For more context on this complex dynamic, see my post
The Power of Healing Before the End
End-of-life care does not have to become a battleground for reenacting childhood dramas.
In 2004, I assisted my mother with compassion at the end of her life. Because I had done the emotional work of healing my own childhood traumas, I did not need to punish her or project my past pain onto her. I was able to be truly present, feeling deep compassion both for the child she once was, and for all the suffering she endured as an adult.
If we don't make arrangements for our own care and do the emotional work to free ourselves from the emotional prisons of our childhood, we leave ourselves at the mercy of dangerously repressed people. Healing our childhood wounds isn't just about finding peace in the present—it is the only way to ensure that the end of our lives is marked by genuine compassion rather than a tragic reenactment of childhood dramas.
This healing requires feeling the pain we've spent a lifetime avoiding—not intellectualizing it, but genuinely grieving what we never received.
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