How to Parent Yourself When Your Parents Couldn't: Lessons from Frankenstein

I just watched Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein on Netflix, and I had to pause the movie halfway through because something hit me so hard I couldn't breathe for a second.

The Creature—this towering, stitched-together being—wasn't scary to me. He was us. Not literally, of course, but emotionally. We know what it's like to wander, searching for belonging, for someone to see and love us without flinching. We know the feeling of being made by people who didn't know what they were doing, who couldn't love us as we needed.

And here's the thing that del Toro captures so beautifully in this retelling: "In forgiveness is where the Creature learns that he can finally be human," as Jacob Elordi (who plays the Creature) explains. But forgiveness isn't about letting your parents—or whoever created the version of you that feels broken—off the hook. It's about freeing yourself from carrying their limitations as your identity.

The Question Beneath the Question

When we ask, "Why don't I feel like I belong?" or "Why can't I find the love I'm looking for?" what we're really asking is: "How do I make peace with being created by someone who didn't know how to love me properly?"

Because that's the brutal truth, isn't it? A lot of us were brought into this world by people who were doing their best with what they had, which sometimes wasn't much. Victor Frankenstein, in del Toro's film, creates life because he's running from his own childhood wounds. He becomes the cold, cruel father he once feared. "How that trauma gets passed on and passed on and the reaction to that and how the fracturing of a human being plays into it," as Oscar Isaac notes.

Our parents were someone's Creature, too. They were stitched together from their own parents' mistakes, their own unhealed wounds, their own desperate attempts to feel whole. And yes, they passed that fracturing on to us.

But here's where it gets interesting: the Creature in the film doesn't let Victor's cruelty determine who he becomes. Even after being rejected, burned, shot at, and hunted, he still chooses compassion. He still helps the sailors. He still walks away with "a little bit more peace in his mind and heart."

That's the work of self-relationship. That's what it looks like to become the parent to yourself that you never had.

Building Your Own Self-Relationship "Laboratory"

So how do we do this? How do we give ourselves what our creators couldn't?

1. Acknowledge the displacement without making it your identity.

Journal prompt: "I feel displaced when..." and then write whatever comes up. Don't edit. Don't make it pretty. Just witness the truth of feeling like you don't belong. Then ask yourself: "What if my displacement isn't a flaw—it's just information about what I didn't receive?" This shifts you from broken to becoming.

2. Practice seeing yourself the way Elizabeth saw the Creature.

Del Toro says it perfectly: "She's capable of seeing the unvarnished beauty of a pure soul in the monster. Where Victor sees disappointment, she sees promise." Ask yourself: What would it feel like to see promise instead of disappointment when you look at yourself? Try this: Stand in front of a mirror and say, "I see you. I may not understand everything about you yet, but I see you trying. I see you surviving. I see your promise."

3. Make peace with the parent you didn't receive—not for them, but for you.

This doesn't mean excusing abuse or pretending everything was fine. It means recognizing that your parents were Victor—trying to create something while running from their own wounds. "This was the first time Frankenstein's creator created anything, so he didn't know what he was doing," as I noted while watching. Your parents were first-time creators, too. They didn't have the manual. They were working from their own damage.

Can you hold both truths? They hurt you. They didn't know how to do better. You deserved more. They couldn't give it. Peace comes not from resolving this paradox but from accepting it—then choosing to give yourself what they couldn't.

The Creature's Final Gift

At the end of del Toro's film, the Creature stands in the Arctic sun, arms outstretched, a tear frozen on his cheek. He's still standing. He's still here. Despite everything Victor did to him, despite the rejection, cruelty, and loneliness, he chose life. He chose to free the sailors. He chose peace over revenge.

That's your inheritance, too. You get to choose how you treat others, even if you weren’t treated well. You get to see your own beauty, even if no one reflected it back when you were young. You get to build a relationship with yourself rooted in compassion—not cruelty.

You're not Frankenstein's monster. You're the Creature who learned to walk toward the sun despite everything. And that? That's not just survival. That's transformation.

So here's my question for you: What's one small way you can parent yourself today that your actual parents couldn't? What's one moment where you can choose to see promise instead of disappointment when you look in the mirror?

Because the love you're looking for? It starts with the way you see yourself when no one else is watching.

Want to know where you are in your relationship with yourself? Take my free assessment here.

This reflection was inspired by Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein*, now streaming on Netflix, and the film's exploration of father-son relationships, forgiveness, and becoming. For a deeper dive into the film's creation, check out the full breakdown on* Netflix's Tudum*.