Life wounds us all—but some wounds linger longer than others—especially the ones we carry from our fathers.
In the last blog, I discussed vulnerability and wounding, along with the Wounded Healer Archetype developed by Carl Jung. Life inevitably wounds us all. Bullying at school or in the workplace, rejection in love and relationships, marriage breakdowns, redundancy and unemployment, and ill health are just a few of the myriad ways life impacts us as men.
Like many men, I’ve walked away from more than one job. I’ve experienced divorce and the breakdown of my marriage. However, what has wounded me the most is the death of my son.
For many of us, myself included, how we cope with the wounds that life brings is influenced by how we handle our first experience of wounding—the wounding from our fathers.
What Is the Father Wound?
The term “father wound” isn’t just psychological jargon—it addresses something real and often unspoken in many men’s lives. It refers to the emotional injury caused by a father’s absence, neglect, criticism, or emotional unavailability. Whether a father was physically absent or emotionally distant, the impact runs deep. It can shape a man’s identity, influence how he views the world, connect with others, and engage with vulnerability.
The father wound isn’t just about what your father did or didn’t do. It’s about what his actions taught you to believe—about yourself, relationships, and being a man.
Maybe you learned that emotions were a weakness.
That love had to be earned.
That approval was conditional.
That being “a man” meant shutting down, toughing it out, and never letting anyone see you struggle.
The Father Wound and its Impact
You might not have the words for it, but the effects show up anyway:
- Feeling disconnected in relationships
- Overworking to prove yourself
- Struggling to trust others
- Exploding in anger or going completely numb
- Battling a quiet but constant feeling of not being good enough
The Father Wound and Women
In the context of this blog, we are talking about the impact of a father’s absence, neglect, criticism or emotional unavailability on men. However, it must be noted that women are equally impacted when their fathers are physically or emotionally absent.
The Father Wound is Personal, and it is not Personal
This sounds like a contradiction. How can something be both personal and not personal?
The father wound is personal in that it occurs to us when we are growing up as children of our fathers.
It is personal because it is a type of emotional trauma. It doesn’t always stem from abuse. Sometimes, it’s more subtle—a dad who never said, “I’m proud of you,” or didn’t truly listen. A father who exhibited stoicism but failed to show warmth. These experiences convey silent yet powerful messages: emotions are weak, vulnerability is unsafe, approval must be earned, and love is conditional.
For many guys, these early lessons become ingrained beliefs. We learn to perform, protect, and provide—but not to express feelings. We might build successful careers or relationships yet still carry a quiet sense of never measuring up.
It isn’t personal because, in many cases, it wasn’t that our fathers disliked us or hated us; instead, they didn’t know any better as their fathers had wounded them. The father wound is a generational injury that gets passed down until a son says, “It is enough,” and begins the work of healing.
Some fathers have begun the generational work of healing, and consequently, their sons have experienced the blessing of good enough fathers who have been able to articulate their love and pride in their sons. However, for many of us, our fathers perpetuated the generational injury that had occurred to them.
The Father Wound and Shame
It is often said that the difference between shame and guilt is between doing and being. In other words, I am guilty when I do something wrong and have shame when I believe something fundamentally wrong with me.
However, I see shame as slightly different from this traditional definition.
Shame arises within the context of a relationship; in other words, shame is societal. Shame is the sense that we are exposed because we have done something that has offended or crossed societal norms. For a young boy, his society or community is his parents. When he is met with silence, disregard or criticism from his father, he is aware that somehow, he has offended or crossed some norm that he doesn’t fully understand. Because he believes his father is always correct, the problem must be within him. Hence, the beginning of shame.
Three things stand out within the context of the father/son relationship and shame.
- Shame leads to disconnection
- Shame is painful.
- Shame leads to behaviours that often try to reduce the pain but lead to greater disconnection.
1. Shame leads to disconnection.
Listening to many men talk about their relationship with their fathers, what stands out is the sense of disconnection from each other.
As boys, we want the sense of connection that comes from being reflected in our fathers’ eyes. When our attempts to connect and experience paternal warmth are met by coldness, criticism, or simply busyness, we start to shut down and withdraw to protect ourselves.
The song “Cat’s in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin poignantly tells of the disconnection between a father and son because the father was too busy. I often choked up listening to it as a teenager. This disconnection isn’t just emotional—it hurts. Deeply.
2. Shame is painful.
Disconnection and shame are painful, and the pain doesn’t go away. For many of us, addiction is what we use to manage the pain of shame we carry. The profound pain of feeling there is something wrong with us, that we are a failure because our fathers could not heal their generational wounding to give us the love and connection we needed as boys.
We hide this pain through our actions. Here lies the dichotomy between who we are and what we do. When we are shame-based and believe we are not good enough, we use our roles to prove to ourselves, our fathers, and society that we are good enough. Sadly, our roles are never sufficient. Our roles are like wallpaper trying to cover the cracks in our souls—roles like provider, achiever, and fixer—meant to prove our worth but unable to fill the quiet ache of not being enough.
3. Shame leads to behaviour that increases our disconnection
I worked for twenty years with men who were homeless and had complex social issues, often relating to mental health issues and alcohol and drug dependency. In terms of these men’s alcohol and drug use, much of it was driven by a deep sense of pain. While drug use and alcohol reduced the pain momentarily, it also increased the sense of disconnection with family and friends, which would have been helpful. The disconnection led to more pain, which led to further alcohol and drug use.
This pattern is true for all of us, no matter what our addiction may be. For the man who works too much, his work validates that he is someone, while at the same time, reduces his connection with family and friends because he is too busy working. The sense of dislocation increases his pain, leading to more work, so the cycle continues.
How the Father Wound Blocks Vulnerability
Vulnerability is often misunderstood. It’s not about oversharing or being soft. At its core, vulnerability is the willingness to be seen as you are—without armour. It’s telling the truth about what hurts, admitting fear, expressing love, and asking for help. It’s the foundation of intimacy, trust, and genuine emotional connection, and most of all, it takes strength.
For many of us who carry a father wound, vulnerability can feel dangerous. It contradicts the script we were raised with: “Man up.” “Don’t cry.” “Be strong.” If a boy grew up being ignored or shamed when he showed emotion, he’ll learn to hide it. As an adult, this can lead to emotional shutdown, difficulty with intimacy, and isolation—even in the middle of a relationship or social circle.
Men who carry unresolved pain from their fathers often struggle to let others in. Vulnerability becomes tied to shame or fear of rejection. They might become perfectionists, people-pleasers, or emotionally distant—doing whatever it takes to avoid the pain of not being accepted as they are.
Redefining Vulnerability for Men
Shame tells us being human is risky, so we armour ourselves against connection.
To move forward, men need to understand that vulnerability is a strength. Vulnerability doesn’t threaten our masculinity or who we are as men. It is a return to our full humanity.
The Father Wound, Vulnerability and Grief
The father wound is real—and so is the shame it often carries. But you don’t have to live your whole life armoured up and emotionally isolated.
Many of us get stuck in our grief because our shame prevents us from experiencing the vulnerability that is required for healing.
When we are wounded and believe that, as blokes, we must “tough it out, ” when we believe the mantra that we shouldn’t feel, much less express our emotions, we hinder our own healing from the grief we experience.
To experience the healing journey through grief, we must do two things that are the complete opposite of what the Father Wound and shame would have us do.
- We must allow ourselves to connect with people around us who can support us in our grief and be companions on the grief journey
- We must learn to be honest about our pain rather than hiding it in shame. In other words, we must learn to step into our full humanity.
Grief is part of the human condition. We cannot live and escape grief. However, we can make the journey through grief more complex when we act out of our woundedness, disconnect from others, and hide in shame.
Grief invites us into the most human of journeys, but we don’t have to walk it alone. My mentoring support helps men step out from the shadow of shame and the Father Wound into connection, honesty, and healing. Together, we choose something more potent: the courage and the freedom to feel.
If any part of this resonated with you, let’s talk. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. I’m here to walk alongside you and let you know you are seen and supported and can find a way through the maze of your grief.
You can contact me here.
