The Hidden Weight: Filipino Generational Trauma in the Virtual Therapy Room.

Juen Arzadon, MA, AMFT, APCC

When Filipino clients sit across from me in therapy—whether online or in person—their stories often carry a familiar rhythm. The details may differ, but the themes echo across generations.

“I don’t remember ever being told ‘I love you,’ but I know my parents loved me—they just showed it through sacrifices.”

“I was expected to obey, no questions asked. If I pushed back, I was called disrespectful.”

“No matter how much I achieved, it never felt like enough. There was always another standard to reach.”

These are not just isolated experiences. They represent the quiet, heavy inheritance of generational trauma in many Filipino families.

For many of my clients, love was present—but conditional. Affection was silent, hidden in acts of service or sacrifice, but rarely spoken out loud. Discipline often blurred into fear. Expectations to achieve and to protect the family’s reputation came before emotional safety. And expressing vulnerability? That was often seen as weakness.

But the truth is—Filipino parents did not create these patterns in a vacuum. They were survivors themselves.

They carried the burdens of colonization, war, migration, and poverty. They parented with the tools they had, and those tools were built more for survival than emotional connection.

Cultural values like utang na loob (debt of gratitude), hiya (shame), and pakikisama (harmony) were meant to protect relationships and community.

But in practice, they sometimes silenced children, erased boundaries, and passed pain down like an heirloom.

In therapy, this shows up in so many ways. Clients who struggle with self-worth because achievements never felt enough. Adults who feel guilty for setting boundaries with parents. High achievers who seem successful on paper but feel empty inside. Caretakers who burn out because saying “no” feels like betrayal.

And yet, what I witness most is resilience. Many of my Filipino clients are learning to unlearn. They are finding the courage to speak their truth, to hold gratitude for their parents’ sacrifices while also grieving their own unmet needs. They are discovering that breaking the cycle doesn’t mean dishonoring family—it means honoring themselves, and creating healthier patterns for the generations to come.

Generational trauma runs deep. But so does generational healing. And in therapy, I’ve seen it happen—slowly, bravely, and powerfully. Every time a client chooses honesty over silence, boundaries over guilt, or self-compassion over shame, they begin to rewrite the story not just for themselves, but for those who will follow.