The Martinez Family Story: Trauma, Humor, and Healing

Sunday, January 26, 2025.

The Martinez family is like a lot of families I see—tight-knit, fiercely loyal, and loaded with intergenerational quirks that are equal parts endearing and exhausting.

Carlos is 36, the middle child of three, is the founder of a thriving PR firm and a self-described "recovering perfectionist."

He grew up in a household where survival often trumped emotional connection. His parents, college educated immigrants from El Salvador, had faced unimaginable hardships.

They gave their kids everything they could—except, perhaps, the tools to process feelings like guilt, fear, or joy.

“Everything was about ‘working harder,’” Carlos told me. “If I got a B on a test, my mom would say, ‘Why not an A?’ And if I got an A, she’d say, ‘Why not A+?’ I didn’t even know that was a thing!”

His older sister, Sofia, coped by becoming the family comedian, using humor to defuse tension. His younger brother, Mateo, became the “golden child,” showered with praise but burdened by high expectations.

And Carlos? Carlos learned to keep his head down, excel in school, and never, ever make waves.

But now, Carlos was here in therapy, armed with a Bingo card, and a deep desire to rewrite the narrative.

Humor Meets Healing: The Bingo Card as Therapy Tool

As Carlos shared his family’s story, I realized something: that Bingo card was more than a joke. It was a road map—a painfully honest, slightly irreverent summary of the generational patterns that had shaped the Martinez family. Each square represented a story, a memory, a belief that had been passed down, often without question.

For example:

• “Silent treatment as discipline” brought up memories of his dad going quiet for days after an argument.

• “Money doesn’t grow on trees” sparked a conversation about his mom’s fear of financial instability and how that fear shaped her parenting.

• “Children should be seen and not heard” opened the floodgates on how often Carlos had felt invisible as a child, his needs overshadowed by the family’s collective struggles.

Humor, as it turned out, wasn’t just a coping mechanism for the Martinez siblings—it was a gateway to vulnerability. “It’s easier to laugh about it,” Carlos admitted. “But I think we laugh so we don’t cry.”

Breaking the Bingo Curse: Therapy in Action

Carlos came to therapy not because he wanted to win at Generational Trauma Bingo, but because he wanted to stop playing altogether. Here’s how we worked on that:

Rewriting Family Narratives

Carlos learned to see his parents’ behaviors not as personal failures but as survival strategies born of their own traumas. “They weren’t trying to hurt me,” he realized. “They were just doing what they knew.”

This perspective didn’t excuse everything, but it allowed Carlos to approach his family with empathy rather than resentment.

Embracing Emotional Expression

One of the most powerful moments in therapy came when Carlos described teaching his niece, Sofia’s daughter, how to name her feelings. “She was upset because her toy broke,” he said. “I told her it’s okay to feel sad. And she said, ‘What does sad feel like?’ I almost cried. No one ever taught me that stuff.”

Through small moments like these, Carlos began to reclaim the emotional connection he had missed as a child.

Creating New Patterns

Carlos started introducing small but significant changes at family gatherings. Instead of avoiding tough conversations, he leaned into them—with humor, of course. When his mom made a comment about his “lazy millennial work ethic,” he quipped, “Well, if I’m lazy, it’s because I spent my childhood doing unpaid emotional labor!” It got a laugh—and sparked a real conversation about boundaries.

Laughing Without Dismissing

Humor remained an essential part of Carlos’s healing, but he learned to use it as a bridge rather than a wall. “I can laugh about the trauma,” he said, “but I also need to honor the pain.”

Healing the Martinez Family: One Square at a Time

As Carlos grew more comfortable breaking the cycle, his family began to shift in small but meaningful ways. His sister Sofia, the one who had made the Bingo card, started therapy herself.

His brother Mateo opened up about the pressure he felt as the “golden child.” And his parents? Well, they weren’t exactly signing up for family counseling, but they were listening in ways they hadn’t before.

At a recent family dinner, Carlos brought out the laminated Bingo card. This time, it was a conversation starter, not a weapon. They laughed together, but they also talked—really talked—about the patterns that had shaped their lives.

“My mom even admitted that she hated the ‘silent treatment’ stuff,” Carlos said, grinning. “She said, ‘But that’s how my mom raised me!’ And I said, ‘Well, now we know better.’”

A Message for Families Playing “Generational Trauma Bingo”

The Martinez family reminds us that breaking generational patterns doesn’t mean rejecting our past—it means learning from it. It means looking at those Bingo squares with a mix of humor and honesty, celebrating how far we’ve come while acknowledging the work still to be done.

So, to all the families out there joking about their trauma: Keep laughing. But also, keep talking.

Because healing doesn’t come from ignoring the Bingo card—it comes from filling in the blank spaces with love, growth, and maybe a little therapy.

Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.