The Healing Power of Returning to Your Childhood Home

One of the main reasons I refused to spend a small fortune renting a vacation property in Honolulu was because I wanted to stay in my childhood home. The home was built in 1986, when I was nine years old, and I’ve been going back almost every year since.

But staying there isn’t just about nostalgia or saving money. It’s about resetting expectations, confronting old wounds in hopes of healing, and thoughtfully planning for the rest of your life and your parents’ lives.

A Time Capsule of Where It All Began

Given that I moved around every two-to-four years as the son of U.S. foreign service officers until I was 14, our home in Honolulu was as close to a “home base” as I ever had. My grandparents bought the land and old home in the 1956 for $30,000, then tore it down in 1985 when a termite problem got out of control, to build the one that still stands today. When they passed, the home was passed down to my parents, me and my sister, and my aunt and uncle, who also have a home on the lot.

What’s fascinating is how little has changed. The original electric range and oven are still there, rusting away. The showers and faucets are the same ones I used as a kid. The living room sofas are all the same. Sure, we’ve upgraded the windows and installed a few AC units over time, but most of the house feels stuck in the past.

There are pictures on the walls of my parents when they were young. Pictures of me when I was small. Walking past them, I can’t help but wonder: where did all the time go?

When You Had Nothing But Excitement and Hope As a Kid

Back in 1986, I had nothing but joy as a 4th grader. I loved coming back to Honolulu to spend time with my grandparents. My grandfather would take me to the beach in his old Chevy station wagon with the bench front seat. He taught me how to water the fruit trees. My grandmother, bless her heart, taught me the basics—like how to use toilet paper.

They also argued a lot. I didn’t understand it then, but now, as an adult, I see it for what it was: two people doing their best with what they had.

I wish we had smartphones or affordable video cameras back then to preserve those little moments. But maybe memory is meant to be imperfect so that when we revisit our childhood homes, we get to rediscover ourselves, even just for a while.

A Chance to Reflect, Reset, and Reimagine

When you return home, you step back into a time before the weight of the world settled on your shoulders. You might rediscover the idealistic boy or girl you once were. And if your life turned out differently than you imagined—whether due to circumstance, pressure, or a change in heart—you get to briefly press the reset button.

Lying in that familiar bed, staring at those old pictures, you’re forced to take stock of your life. What have you done well? What would you have done differently? How far have you come? And perhaps most importantly, what more should you do with the time you have left?

Living as an adult in your childhood home is a different experience entirely. It’s almost like stepping into a parallel universe where you can see how the past connects with the present.

Facing Old Demons with New Eyes

I believe childhood trauma plays a big role in shaping who we become. We all go through some form of it, and if we’re lucky enough to revisit those memories as adults, we have a shot at healing. Please check out Dr. Gabor Mate's work for more. He is fantastic.

Two memories stand out for me.

The first is of my father calmly coming into my room and telling me he had spent a long time typing out some papers I had ripped up in anger. I was in the 4th grade. He didn’t yell or hit me. He just said what I did was wrong and left. That calm response stuck with me. Now, as a parent, I try to do the same with my own children, talk things out rather than explode.

The second memory is of my mother telling me to stick out both hands so she could whack them with long cooking chopsticks when I was naughty. I was in the 6th grade, and I was terrified. The pain was sharp, but the fear of sticking out my hands was worse. That kind of parenting made me withdraw from her emotionally, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve never raised a hand to my children.

This trip, when she got mad again over the laundry sink overflowing from a clogged lint trap, I saw the same panic and rage surface. But instead of reacting, I stood still and let the screaming carry me back to when I was a little boy—frightened and alone. Then I sat down and listened as she told the story of her difficult upbringing. It’s a story I’ve heard over a hundred times, one she keeps repeating because she hasn’t been able to break the cycle.

And that’s when I realized: she cannot help her occasional rage. It's baked into her through years of trauma, cultural displacement, and struggle. I brought up the chopstick whackings and told her I forgave her. She looked puzzled and said it was a joke. But the fear and pain I felt back then were very real. And I told her, “It’s OK.”

A sense of peace washed over me. She also became calmer for the rest of the trip. I think a little bit inside her has healed as well.

Understanding Our Parents to Understand Ourselves

Before your parents are gone, try to understand them—not just as your mom or dad, but as human beings who did the best they could. What were they going through when they raised you? What cultural or financial pressures were they under? How did those things affect their parenting? Were they always this way?

After all, they are going through life the first time, and only time, just like you. Before we pass, I hope we can all face our demons and make amends.

When I see how hard parenting is—especially when you’re working full-time—it makes me more empathetic. My wife and I are dual stay-at-home parents, which gives us more energy for our kids. But it also makes me realize how tired and stressed my own parents must have been every evening at 6 p.m, given they both had full-time jobs until traditional retirement age.

For the longest time, I wondered whether the way my parents disciplined me was a response to my behavior or simply a reflection of their personalities. I had an longstanding belief that I was a terrible kid, that 90% of the way they disciplined me was my fault. After spending five weeks back home as an adult, it’s clear to me I wasn't all to blame. Instead, I think about 60% of their parenting style was shaped by who they are, not what I did. I also have perspective as a father with an eight-year-old son.

My dad has always been calm—so calm, in fact, that during a family BBQ, he quietly stood up and said he had to take himself to the ER because a metal grill bristle had lodged in his throat. This is the same man who once helped negotiate the release of a kidnapping victim while working in Malaysia. He also served as a prison guard in Thailand during the Vietnam war. At the same time, he’s often chided me rather than encouraged me—for losing tennis matches, being shorter than him, or carrying extra weight. But I’ve long since accepted that this is simply who he is.

My mom is incredibly thoughtful, often at the expense of her well-being. However, she is also full of nervous energy. But I understand now—it’s not her fault. That's the personality she was born with. It’s just how she learned to survive.

Appreciating What You Already Have

One of the best things about going back to your childhood home is the way it resets your baseline.

For example, after driving my dad’s 28-year-old beater car, I came back to San Francisco with a renewed love for my 10-year-old Range Rover Sport. Bluetooth! Backup cameras! Leather seats that still smell leathery! No longer do I want to buy a replacement car.

It’s the same with our homes, our routines, our lives. We crave more until we remember how little we once had and how happy we still were. As the Buddha said, “Desire is the cause of suffering.” That includes the desire for a bigger home, a fancier car, or more money and status. We lose inner peace chasing what we don’t need.

But if you have frugal parents who’ve kept the house they raised you in, and you return there, you get to reset your expectations and revisit what truly matters.

For decades, I chased nicer homes, believing a larger lot or more luxurious finishes would make me happier. It doesn't make me happier, just more satisfied as a provider. With kids to raise and time feeling more precious than ever, I just want stability and peace.

Spending several weeks at my childhood home this summer helped remind me to be happy with what I have.

You’ll Learn to Better Take Care of Your Parents

Finally, if reconnecting with your childhood, healing old wounds, better understanding why you are the way you are, and appreciating what you have isn’t reason enough to return home, there’s another important one: it helps you better take care of your aging parents.

If your parents did their best to care for you during your first 18 years, it’s only right and compassionate to return the favor during their last 18. But it’s hard to truly help from a distance.

By living in your childhood home for an extended period, you get to observe the rhythms of your parents’ lives—their habits, preferences, limitations, and unspoken struggles. This allows you to plan ahead.

You might identify the need to clear space for a future caretaker, repair long-ignored plumbing issues, or install handrails and ramps to help with mobility. You may even uncover things they’ve simply stopped noticing or caring about, such as a chronic cough that seems normal to them, but unusual to you.

As our parents age, they spend more and more time alone. For some, like my mother, this solitude is welcome. But for others, like my father, I’m sure he longs for more companionship. I saw how his eyes lit up and his voice grew animated when my sister called him one day while I was sitting beside him.

Observe your parents so you better take care of them later on.

Go Back Before It’s Too Late

Revisiting your childhood home while your parents are still alive can be one of the most emotionally clarifying and healing things you do. Here's why it matters:

• Reconnect with your roots: Rediscover the person you were before life got complicated.
• See your growth: Measure how far you've come and reflect on what still matters to you.
• Understand your parents: Learn to see them as individuals—flawed, human, and shaped by their own stories.
• Heal through reflection: Face old pain, forgive where you can, and give yourself permission to move on.
• Appreciate what you have: Let the simplicity of your past help you feel more grateful for your present.
• Curb the desire for more: Stop chasing upgrades and start embracing enough.
• Support your parents in meaningful ways: Be present, be helpful, and take care of them the way they once took care of you.

If you’re fortunate enough to still have your childhood home—and your parents—go back. Live in it. Listen. Help. Reflect. Heal.

Because one day, you won’t be able to. And when that time comes, you’ll be glad you did everything you could while you still had the chance.

Readers, do you still have access to your childhood home? If so, have you ever gone back to live in it with your parents for an extended period of time? If you have, what did you learn about your parents that you never noticed before? What do you now see as an adult that you couldn’t fully grasp as a child? And what are some other ways you’ve come to appreciate what you have today—and how far you’ve come?

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