You might recognize Abuela Madrigal’s rigid control and relentless work ethic as reflections of how trauma shapes family systems, especially when love feels conditional and tied to performance rather than unconditional safety. Intergenerational trauma carries unresolved fear and maladaptive beliefs that, while once protective, now limit your ability to relax and trust, showing up as emotional distress passed down quietly through generations.
A maladaptive belief is a deeply held thought or assumption that developed to protect you during difficult times but now limits how you relate to yourself and others. It is not simply negative thinking or low self-esteem — it’s a survival belief that feels true because it once kept you safe, even if it causes pain today. For you, this might look like believing love is only given when you perform perfectly or that vulnerability leads to rejection. Naming these beliefs matters because it helps you see them as tools that outlived their usefulness, not as unchangeable truths. Once you do, you can begin the hard, honest work of rewriting the stories that keep you stuck.
You might recognize Abuela Madrigal’s rigid control and relentless work ethic as reflections of how trauma shapes family systems, especially when love feels conditional and tied to performance rather than unconditional safety.
Intergenerational trauma carries unresolved fear and maladaptive beliefs that, while once protective, now limit your ability to relax and trust, showing up as emotional distress passed down quietly through generations.
Understanding that your coping strategies—like control and hard work—have purpose but also emotional costs can open a path toward compassionate self-reflection and the possibility of healing through therapy and naming your own trauma patterns.
My daughter, like almost every four-year-old out there, loves Encanto.
SUMMARY
The grandmother in Encanto isn’t the villain — she’s a trauma survivor who built a rigid, conditional family system out of genuine fear. If you found yourself unexpectedly moved (or triggered) by her character arc, that recognition is worth exploring. For driven women with relational trauma backgrounds, Abuela Madrigal’s story often mirrors what it felt like to grow up in a family where love felt earned, conditional, or tied to performance. This post unpacks what her story has to teach about intergenerational trauma and healing.
But, honest to goodness, I think I might love it more.
The music, the story, the vibrancy, the characters… hands down it’s my favorite Disney movie.
And while there is so much to love about it (I mean, let’s be honest: “Surface Pressure” is basically a love letter to working moms everywhere) the character I relate to the most and have the most compassion for is not the popular choice: it’s the grandma. Abuela.
So why do I care for this Encanto character so much? Why do I love Abuela?
Because she’s a perfect (albeit fictional) example of how someone might organize themselves in the wake of traumatic events.
And I find her incredibly relatable. Because her way of organizing herself in the world is a lot like how I organize myself, too.
(This is the point in the post where I’m going to tell you to stop reading if you haven’t seen Encanto and don’t want any spoilers.)
Relational trauma refers to psychological injury that occurs within the context of important relationships, particularly those with primary caregivers during childhood. Unlike single-incident trauma, relational trauma involves repeated experiences of emotional neglect, inconsistency, manipulation, or abuse within bonds where safety and trust should have been foundational.
In Encanto, we learn that Abuela endured a massive trauma.
Intergenerational Trauma
Intergenerational trauma describes the transmission of unresolved trauma responses, relational patterns, and nervous system dysregulation from one generation to the next — typically through parenting behaviors, family systems, and attachment styles. The traumatized parent doesn’t intend to harm; they’re often doing their best with the tools their own childhood gave them.
Forced to flee from her home with her infant triplets and husband, her husband was murdered trying to protect them as they fled (caveat: I presume this – Disney didn’t explicitly show this, it’s only implied).
So there she was. A young, post-partum mother of three. With no home, no partner, and no safety in the middle of the Colombian countryside.
And then “a miracle” happened and she was given and granted safety and refuge (in the form of an ever-burning magical candle) and she was able to not only raise her babies but provide a home for their babies and a community sprung up around them all.
And, as we learn minutes into the film when the first song starts to play (The Family Madrigal), Abuela forms an organizing belief about what will keep her family safe:
We swear to always Help those around us And earn the miracle That somehow found us The town keeps growing The world keeps turning But work and dedication will keep the miracle burning And each new generation must keep the miracle burning
Why do trauma survivors use relentless hard work and control as coping mechanisms?
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In essence, as I understand it, she believes it – the safety, the security – will disappear if she and her children and their children don’t show up in service, working hard and pushing themselves to “earn” that safety.
The past is still present for Abuela.
The dangers of her history aren’t there anymore, but Abuela effectively believes the danger could be back at any moment, all the safety and security ripped away from her and those she loves.
And so she continues to push herself and her family relentlessly towards hard work and self-sacrificing service, the very things she believes will protect them.
Like I said before: she is so darn relatable.
When we endure traumatic events – be it prolonged and protracted childhood abuse and neglect and/or single incident traumas like a car crash, rape, or robbery – if we don’t have the proper support at the time of the event(s) to help us effectively “metabolize” the trauma, we may form maladaptive beliefs about ourselves, others and the world around us and then further form maladaptive behaviors around these beliefs.
What is a maladaptive belief and where does it come from?
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For example, a young girl who has an abusive father may grow up believing, “I can’t trust men, all men are bad.”
It’s a maladaptive belief insomuch as it’s negatively biased and irrational – while it’s true that her own father was “bad” and couldn’t be trusted, there are men out there in the world who are good and who can be trusted.
Another example of a maladaptive belief central to this essay is one Abuela holds: hard work and self-sacrifice and controlling everything and everyone will help keep me/us safe.
Abuela believes that if she can just control the people and events around her and if they keep pushing themselves hard, she and they will stay safe.
And while hard work and control probably did keep her “safe” in the early years of raising her triplets solo, Abuela cannot see the safety and security she currently has that won’t disappear if she relaxes her standards and stops trying to control everything and everyone so much.
This piece – the inability to stop pushing and controlling others and my environment as a form of self-protection – is how and why I relate to Abuela so much.
It’s one of my primary organizing principles stemming from my traumatic past, too, and one I’m still working on changing and challenging, even today.
Why? Because there’s a painful cost to relentless hard work and control as coping mechanisms.
Why do trauma coping strategies eventually stop working?
“aw-pull-quote”
At the end of the day, all of our trauma-earned beliefs and behaviors have pros and cons to them.
Let’s go back to the example of the young woman who believes “I can’t trust men, all men are bad.”
Perhaps the “pro” of this belief is that, as a teen and young woman, she keeps herself from dating and avoids possible events like date rape, being broken up, unwanted pregnancies, etc. (all risks in her mind if she allows men into her life).
But possible “cons” of this belief might include a growing sense of misandry (prejudice against men) which trickles into non-functional behavior when she manages people at her first job and possible grief about ever becoming a mother because she can’t trust anyone to be a good partner to her and her kids.
(Caveat: I’m speaking heteronormatively and assuming this young woman would be interested in being sexually involved with male-identifying individuals.)
All our trauma-informed introjects – the stories we swallow whole about our experiences – have pros and cons to them.
Abuela’s coping mechanisms of choice – control, hard work, and self-sacrifice – have their own pros and cons.
Pros: Hard work helped her raise her infant triplets as a single mother and showing up for the townspeople in service likely built some degree of social safety net for them all.
Cons: She’s pushing her loved ones away and (unconsciously) negatively impacting their mental health with her unrelenting standards.
Personally, I know that my own unrelenting drive to work and desire to control everything can sometimes (okay, okay, often) translate into making my life harder than it needs to be, burning me and sometimes those that work alongside me, out.
What are the real costs of holding onto maladaptive trauma beliefs?
And, as Abuela found out, ultimately, Casita crumbled despite the control she desperately tried to exert.
But (and this is the part I love at the end of the movie) the “safety” was there in the form of relational security which Abuela hadn’t had before (presumably it was just her and her three infants) when the townspeople came to help her rebuild the Casita and recover from the hardship.
She lost control and she was still safe.
(And, side note, you know you’re an EMDR trauma therapist when you see that moment and want to jump in and install it as a resource for her to help rewire those neural pathways… yes, I’m super “fun” to watch movies with.)
Abuela is, for me, such an endearing and relatable character.
She’s not a “mean grandma”. She’s a matriarch trying to keep her family safe and protect them. So that they don’t have to endure what she traumatically had to endure.
Her intentions are good though her actions are misguided and informed by the past, not the reality of her present.
And I think Abuela and her story has a lot to teach us. Especially those of us who come from relational trauma backgrounds.
What questions can help you explore your own trauma-shaped story?
To help you, like me, use Encanto as a teachable moment, I want to provide the following prompts and journal questions:
What stories and ways of being in the world do you know that have about what keeps you safe from “more bad things” happening? Example: “If I don’t rock the boat and keep people happy, I’ll stay safe.” or “If I don’t let myself get too close to others, I’ll be safe.”
What are the pros and cons of those stories? What does that story cost you? Example: “I may not be rocking the boat but I’m living a life that’s inauthentic.” or “I’m not being hurt by others but I feel painfully, unbelievably alone.”
If you let go of that story and tried the opposite belief on, what safety exists today that didn’t before that might also help keep you safe/support you through hard things? (Hint: think about the community and capable relatives rallying for Abuela. Something she obviously didn’t have when it was just her and her three infants.)
And finally: which character from Encanto do YOU like the most? I would love to know.
When you bring Encanto into therapy, sharing how deeply Abuela’s story resonates, you’re not just discussing a Disney movie—you’re recognizing your own organizing principles born from trauma, the relentless drive that once saved you but now exhausts everyone in your orbit.
Your therapist helps you see how childhood trauma adaptations become both superpowers and kryptonite—the hypervigilance that helped you survive an unpredictable childhood now makes you an excellent project manager but destroys your marriage, the control that protected you from chaos now suffocates your children, the self-sacrifice that earned approval now leaves you depleted and resentful. Together, you explore which specific “miracles” you’re still desperately trying to earn through overwork, identifying the moment safety arrived but your nervous system never got the memo.
The therapeutic work involves differentiating past from present—using approaches like EMDR to help your nervous system understand that your husband isn’t your violent father, your stable job isn’t about to disappear like childhood security did, your children’s normal struggles don’t mean you’ve failed to protect them from your own trauma.
Your therapist becomes a witness as you practice releasing control in small, manageable ways—delegating a project, letting your partner handle bedtime differently than you would, sitting with the discomfort of not knowing every detail—discovering that Casita doesn’t crumble when you loosen your grip. Through this process, you begin to see that the safety you’ve been frantically maintaining through control already exists in healthier forms: earned financial stability, chosen family, hard-won boundaries.
Most powerfully, trauma therapy helps you install new beliefs to replace the old survival strategies—that rest doesn’t invite danger, that vulnerability creates deeper safety through connection, that you’re worthy of the miracle without constantly earning it through exhaustion. Like wishing you could give Abuela that EMDR session to install her moment of community support, your therapist helps you recognize and internalize the safety that already surrounds you, gradually trusting that the candle won’t extinguish if you stop frantically tending it, that sometimes the most protective thing you can do is stop protecting so hard.
Wrapping up.
If you feel so inclined, please share your answers to these prompts. Or any other thoughts and reactions you had when reading this essay. In the comment section of this blog below.
When you share, our community of 30,000 monthly blog readers can benefit from your earned wisdom and experience. And possibly see themselves in your story, feeling less alone.
Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.
Warmly,
Annie
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). International Handbook of Multigenerational Legacies of Trauma. Springer.Herman, J. L. (
). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence&#
;From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books.Beck, A. T. (
). Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders. International Universities Press.Porges, S. W. (
). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. Norton.van der Kolk, B. A. (
). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.Shapiro, F. (
). Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) Therapy: Basic Principles, Protocols, and Procedures. Guilford Press.Bowlby, J. (
Why do I feel so seen by Abuela’s story in Encanto, even though I’m successful?
It’s common for successful women to resonate with Abuela’s journey because her rigid control and drive often mirror how we cope with past hurts. Her story highlights how trauma can lead us to build seemingly strong, but ultimately conditional, systems in our own lives. Recognizing this connection is a powerful first step toward understanding your own patterns.
I’m always working hard and trying to control everything. Is this a trauma response, or just who I am?
For many driven, ambitious women, relentless hard work and a need for control can indeed be deeply ingrained coping mechanisms developed in response to past trauma. These strategies once served to keep you safe, creating a sense of predictability and accomplishment. However, if they’re now causing burnout or preventing genuine connection, it’s worth exploring their origins.
Why do I constantly feel like I have to earn love and prove my worth, even in my closest relationships?
This feeling often stems from experiences where love or approval felt conditional, tied to your performance or achievements rather than your inherent self. It’s a common pattern for those with relational trauma, where early experiences taught you that your value was linked to what you could do. Understanding this can help you begin to challenge these old beliefs and seek unconditional connection.
I have these deep-seated beliefs that hold me back, even though I know they’re not true. What are they, and how can I change them?
These are often called maladaptive beliefs, which are deeply held thoughts formed during difficult times to protect you. While they once served a purpose, they now limit your growth and well-being. Identifying these beliefs is crucial, as it allows you to see them as outdated survival tools rather than unchangeable truths, opening the door to rewriting your narrative.
How can I break cycles of intergenerational trauma so I don’t pass them on to my own family?
Breaking cycles of intergenerational trauma begins with self-awareness and compassion for your own story. By understanding how unresolved trauma has shaped your family’s patterns and your own coping mechanisms, you can consciously choose different responses. Therapy, particularly trauma-informed approaches, can provide invaluable tools and support to heal these wounds and foster healthier dynamics for future generations.
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As a licensed psychotherapist, trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides ambitious women — including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs — in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
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Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist, relational trauma specialist, and the founder and successfully exited CEO of a large California trauma-informed therapy center. A W.W. Norton published author, she writes the weekly Substack Strong & Stable and her work and expert opinions have appeared in NPR, NBC, Forbes, Business Insider, The Boston Globe, and The Information.
Trauma-informed viewers recognize Abuela's controlling behavior as protective, not malicious. She's not trying to harm her family—she's desperately trying to prevent them from experiencing the devastating losses she endured. Her "villainy" is actually hypervigilance, a classic trauma response where past danger feels perpetually present.
Behaviors become maladaptive when they continue despite changed circumstances. Abuela's relentless control made sense when she was alone with three infants after trauma. Decades later, with safety and community established, these same behaviors push away loved ones and create the instability she's trying to prevent.
Absolutely. A trauma response like hypervigilance might help you excel professionally (pro) while destroying your personal relationships (con). Self-sufficiency might protect you from disappointment (pro) but leave you painfully isolated (con). These patterns served us once, which is why letting them go feels so threatening.
Ask yourself: What story do I tell about what keeps me safe? What would happen if I stopped? Often, we discover we're protecting against dangers that no longer exist, like Abuela still defending against threats that passed decades ago while missing the actual safety surrounding her.
This represents the trauma survivor's greatest fear and most profound healing moment—discovering that letting go of control doesn't equal catastrophe. When we finally release our white-knuckle grip on safety through control, we often find that real safety exists in connection, community, and trust rather than perpetual vigilance.
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