Not Everything We Inherit is Worth Keeping

We moved houses almost two years ago, right when my oldest daughter at home was heading off to college. For months, her new room functioned more like a storage unit—overflowing with everything she didn’t bring to her tiny dorm: childhood trinkets, high school memorabilia, her jewelry box inscribed with her name in delicate pink cursive.

Eventually, after the rest of the house had been unpacked, it was time to tackle the final room. The boxes were just as we’d left them. As I scanned the clutter, trying to muster the energy to begin, I spotted the jewelry box—precariously perched on top of a stack. I decided to start there.

When was the last time I looked inside the jewelry box that reminded me of three-year-old Sophia?

Inside were tangled necklaces, a Girl Scouts pin, and some jewelry pieces I recognized from my own childhood. As I sifted through the jumble of silver and gold, I gasped. 

Nestled among the treasures was a giant tooth—roots and all. It was far too large to be one of Sophia’s baby teeth. It was… disgusting. A real adult tooth, cavity and everything. What was it doing here, in my daughter’s jewelry box?

Later, when Sophia came home for the holidays, I asked her about it. Had she found it somewhere? Was it some kind of bizarre keepsake?

“Oh, that?” she said nonchalantly. “It was Nanny’s, or someone's. Grandma gave it to me.”

Like this was just a thing we do in our family—pass down teeth.

“She gave it to me when I was little, so I figured I should keep it,” she explained, as if that clarified everything.

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The image of little-girl Sophia treasuring the decayed molar of a great-grandmother she’d never met was both ridiculous and strangely sweet. And still, very gross.

My laughter was contagious. Soon we were both doubled over, tears streaming down our faces. And in the midst of that laughter, I thought to myself: How much stuff do we hang onto just because it was given to us?

I tossed the tooth in the trash. Just because someone hands you something doesn’t mean you have to keep it, I told her. But I understood why she had. It was a gesture, a link to family, a relic that felt like it meant something.

Only… it didn’t. It was a decayed old tooth that should’ve been thrown away years ago.

That moment lingered with me. It made me wonder: how much emotional debris have I held onto simply because it was passed down?

Poor boundaries, people-pleasing, low self-esteem, codependence, depression, anxiety, loss of agency, chaos, unprocessed trauma—these are some of the things entangled in my family tree. I don’t believe anyone meant to pass them down, but they became embedded in our lineage, mistaken for heirlooms. Like a poisonous vine, they wrapped around us. But the vine is not the tree.

It takes a moment of awareness to realize that what’s always been there doesn’t have to stay.

Of course, my family handed down beauty and strength, too. Resilience. Humor. Fierce love. These, too, are part of our inheritance. And the very act of cutting away the harmful parts becomes nourishment for growth. It’s cliché, I know—but clichés exist because they’re often true.

So, in the end, the tooth gave us something. A reminder: even if we deeply love the person who gives it, we don’t have to hold onto what hurts us. 

We can honor their memory without carrying their burdens.

Luckily, the rest of the unpacking held no more decayed teeth. Just some clothes (which I’ll let my daughter sort through), and sweet, sentimental things that still feel good to hold onto.

If this resonated with you, then I have a reflection question you may like to answer:

What are you still holding onto, not because it’s useful or life-giving, but simply because it was handed to you? 

It could be time to toss it. 

With love, 

Danielle