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What can relationships within families look like?
We often say that certain situations and behaviors are “normal” and that’s just how things are, living in a sense of autopilot. In our family, we learn the first ways people interact—how they come together and drift apart, what is permitted, and what is unacceptable in relationships. Through our experiences, we form our view of relationships, ourselves, and the world in general. It is the place that teaches us whether the world is safe or hostile.
In a family, we create interactions where, as parents, we can become unpredictable—exhibiting chaotic behaviors and sending mixed messages, acting hostilely or aggressively, becoming parents whom you cannot trust or who do not respect your boundaries. Often, we do not listen to our children and deny their emotional needs, either directly or indirectly, by asserting that we know better than they do what they need. In any other context, we would ask someone what they want, except for children, presuming they cannot know for themselves if they are cold, hungry, or in pain.
In cases where there is a difficult issue—like divorce, death, or something that must remain hidden—our behaviors adapt to send the message that there is something unclear, something that disrupts the safety of the stable narratives we have built between us. A question arises again and again, without being answered.
What do we learn from being in these relationships?
When we are part of these relationships, as children we form images of how things are, how two people who love each other behave, how we treat ourselves, and what to expect from others. Within such relationships, we learn that we cannot trust people or their intentions, that we do not know if and how we are allowed to ask for help, because no one may listen or we may be rejected. Our thoughts cannot connect with or recognize our own emotions, and, most importantly, we do not know how to express our needs.
A child who is not given the space to share their needs, to express disappointment or fear, whose achievements are never acknowledged because nothing is ever enough for the parents, learns that all these things—who they are—are not worth expressing, are not important, and that they cannot succeed. Such a child learns that people are unsafe, and so they develop strategies to cope with chaos.
In a family where arguments are hidden or difficult matters are never discussed, the child receives the message that it is “normal” to hide anger and other unpleasant emotions, that fighting is forbidden, and naturally, they will not develop ways to manage uncomfortable discussions and disagreements, forming an unrealistic image of relationships. They may sense that something is wrong but be unable to put it into words, which may lead them to express it through other means, such as a symptom.
How do we involve the child in these dynamics?
A common adaptation is triangulation when the dyad cannot manage. Parents often involve their children in the couple’s relationship when they cannot meet their own needs directly through the partner. The child is thus removed from the role of child and becomes a pawn, a partner, a rock, or even a therapist, to communicate what cannot be expressed otherwise. Messages or complaints are implied through the child, asking them to meet needs that are not their responsibility. In short, the child is asked to stop being a child and to be something else. The child will take on this role because the parents are the most important people in their life, resulting in their own needs being deprioritized.
A common observation in therapy is that children who became the emotional support of a parent often have repressed anger and aggression toward that parent. This anger, expressed through hints, confrontations, conflicts, and power struggles, is a reaction to the pain caused for years by these relationships, which neglected their needs during the most vulnerable periods of their life.
If we are part of such a family, what can we do?
It is important first to recognize and acknowledge it. Our parents are people with their own unresolved traumas, and they may not be able to apologize or understand what they have done. If we reflect on the emotional age of our parents, we can better understand which of their own needs were unmet in their relationships. The goal is to allow ourselves to feel what we feel, without avoidance, even if the other party cannot validate or care for us.
The past always has its reasons, but how we interpret it is our own journey.
(This text was published in the print and online newspaper Hellenic DNA, New York)