Alone in a Little Boat on the Sea Tossed by Family Dysfunction” Children Raised in Dysfunctional Families, including those affected by Alcohol Problems.
"At the helm of my Little Boat, I always sit Alone.
I don’t know how to steer it, nor where the shore is.
When I look into my father’s eyes, I see emptiness – I fear they are dead.
When I look into my mother’s eyes, I see they are alive, but half-closed.
Mother shields herself from the blinding light of the world, she struggles to take steady steps.
When I look in the mirror, I do not see Myself, only the traumas that are Important, not unique, and are part of my Mother’s and Father’s story."
How can one cope with the pain and trauma of Childhood?
Some people find their way through poetry, as above.
Others paint, greedily recreating the pattern of trauma, trying to cast out what hurts inside to the outside.
Still others beat out the rhythm of music… as if it were the rhythm of their hearts when they were afraid, when they were children, and when they were alone.
With those who listen to them, they stop feeling Loneliness… they return to the beginning, but this time with an Adult by their side.
Childhood traumas connected to growing up on a ship carried by the “Sea of Alcohol Problems / Other Family Dysfunction” are common. Despite their prevalence, they remain a taboo topic. It is considered improper to speak of and recall traumas, to reopen and salt old wounds. Yet, contrary to such folk wisdom, not every wound heals on its own. Some wounds, in order to close, require cleansing and soothing with the balm of a corrective relationship. Sometimes a close relationship is not enough, and the traumas need to be worked through with the help of a therapist.
Unprocessed traumas, like through osmosis, tend to pass from generation to generation. It is said that spells are not the domain of psychology, yet the spells of maladaptive behavioral and perceptual patterns resemble a curse. Therapists do not lift curses, but they help reveal the psychological patterns hidden within what seems inert and unchangeable. The therapist helps to name what hurt in childhood and continues to cause pain in adulthood, supporting the process of gaining distance, working through it, and consciously choosing, as an Adult, the further direction of one’s life “journey.
Accusations... Rejections
Why write about the ACoA – Adult Child of an Alcoholic
and
ACoD – Adult Child of Dysfunction=Adult Child of a Dysfunctional Family?
The term Adult Child of an Alcoholic / Person Raised in a Dysfunctional Family is used by many within the psychological and psychiatric fields, as well as outside them. It is often criticized for being overly general and for encouraging people to drift away from the core of their own problems, following a theory-driven path instead. I do not agree with this criticism.
Searching for answers is a process. At the beginning of that path, every person seeks comparisons and needs to identify with something—they want to understand, at least a little, what is or was happening to them. I do not believe that looking for one’s own definition of trauma, based on theories supported by years of experience working with ACoA/ACoD individuals, should be dismissed as “lacking added value.” What matters is not to take everything literally.
Am I an ACoA/ACoD?
An attempt to define an Adult Raised in a Family with Dysfunction or Alcohol Problems.
The attempt to create a unified definition of Adult or Adolescent Children of Alcoholics / Persons Raised in Dysfunctional Families that literally encompasses every individual leads to a proverbial dead end. Just as every human being is unique in their nature, each person—due to genetic, environmental, and cultural predispositions—forms their own definition of experiencing lack and their own manifestation of trauma.
If we try to outline a framework, we could say that ACoA/ACoD individuals are those who perceive and experience the world through the lens of trauma—through wounds, unmet needs, fear, instability, and the absence of a healthy model. In adulthood, they feel the negative effects of the suffering that grew out of the “Problem, with a capital P.” Life in their families revolved around that “Problem,” and as a result, such a person had no chance to build a secure base—a healthy family model.
Because of the “Problem, not a small problem,” individual family members were forced to change their roles and functions, and to suppress their needs in order to adapt and coexist under one roof. Due to systemic cohesion mechanisms—described in family systems therapy—family members, striving to maintain stability, adapt to the situation. It remains open to discussion whether such adaptation benefits a particular family, and what forms that adaptation takes.
In the heart of a Dysfunctional Home, a person grows—a Child—a blank slate who learns to define what the Big World is through the small fragment of the world that is their Family.
They learn that “Problems, with a capital P,” are part of daily life and that one must function together despite the Problem. They come to understand the roles and functions of each family member—realizing that these roles often do not align with what the Big World outside says they should be.
In childhood, adapting “despite everything” allows survival.
As Adults leaving the walls of a dysfunctional home, they face a choice: how to shape their own reality.
Many ACoD individuals (Adult Children of Dysfunction) often face dissonance and confusion. Some, perhaps unconsciously or out of habit, recreate the same kind of world they knew in childhood.
Others feel the Echo of Childhood—linked to deprivation and violence—and go in the opposite direction, living in constant opposition.
Still others do not take up the challenge of building a safe harbor for their Lonely Boat; after years of drifting on the open sea, they find themselves merely side by side with others, their lives driven by inertia.
5 Signs of A Dysfunctional Family Dynamic
Psych2go - Youtube
Analogy / Image of a Dysfunctional Family
A prehistoric drawing of a family gathered around a fire.
The family fights to preserve the flame of the home fire, for it means food, warmth, connection, and shelter.
Each member of the tribe has an assigned role. The tribe works together in order to survive.
Now let us imagine a sequence of scenes—a scenario blurred and altered by Family Dysfunction. In this example, we will use the problem of Alcoholism affecting one member of the tribe.
A gap appears in the tribe’s system of roles, creating a sad space—an extra burden—for the remaining members to fill.
The role of the Guardian emerges—not only of the Home Fire, but also of the Family Situation and the Person with the Alcohol Problem.
There is now room for the one who entertains and diverts attention from the troubled Member, who eases the tension, saves the situation, and restores a fragile sense of stability.
One thing is certain—the family around the fire functions under strain.
Children in such families grow up quickly, sometimes taking on Adult roles, because chaos reigns at the hearth. The level of chaos, the magnitude of the problem, and the adaptive capacities of individual family members determine the degree of burden placed on the youngest members of the tribe. Traumas and dysfunctions in a child growing up within a tribe marked by such problems are common.
Even if we are not speaking of family dysfunction or trauma, it is worth pausing to reflect on the need for change.
As the tribal analogy shows, a “Problem, with a capital P,” transforms a family—things are never entirely “normal” again.
It is possible to live with the weight of dysfunction, but the question always remains: at what COST—and does it really have to be so high?
Roles in Childhood in a Dysfunctional Home = Roles in AdulthoodA fragment of my childhood history within me
In childhood, the mechanisms and roles adopted by a child growing up in a Dysfunctional Family serve as adaptive strategies.When Danger lurks nearby and the world is turned upside down, a person—whether small or grown—will, to the best of their ability and temperament, search for ways to live despite everything. They try to create a space in which they can exist and within it find a small patch of competence—a sense of influence. This provides a semblance of safety.
When a caregiver is drowning in the sea of Alcohol or Dysfunction, the child sees that the Family’s attention is focused entirely on the Problem—on solving it or preventing its eruption. The next wave can come at any moment. The child’s “Small World” revolves around the Problem. Drowning in a sea of unmet needs—in the proverbial sea of Alcohol or Dysfunction—the child tries to save themselves. To survive. To fight.
In such a home, the battlefield is the attempt to meet developmental needs—a difficult, sometimes impossible task when too much is happening around. At times, the child tries to stay on the sidelines—to avoid participating, to watch from a distance, not to feel—by any means possible.
Often, the urgency of the situation forces the child to jump, as if skipping rope, from being a child to acting as an adult. They deny their own childhood, “throw themselves fully into the role of the Adult,” which often leads to parentification—the reversal of parent–child roles.
Parentification – Role Reversal
Parentification – Causes, Consequences, and Steps Toward Healing
Being an Adult / Mature / Resourceful is a big word and a heavy burden even for a grown person. Expecting a child to be Adult / Mature / Resourceful is profoundly absurd.
A child who becomes the caregiver or confidant of a Parent with a Problem—with a capital P—or the one who manages a household marked by dysfunction, finds themselves in a situation akin to being handed a bazooka and sent to war with small, fragile hands.
It is a war of daily struggles, but also of serious personal problems and limitations belonging to the Adults. It is a war that demands the suppression of one’s own emotions and needs, and the skipping of natural developmental stages.
The responsibility placed on the child—to “win the war,” to take care of the situation—arises because the family system cannot function without the help of an extra pair of hands. The child must survive.
Through this learned experience, the child cultivates the belief that they can fight and win the battles of adulthood on their own. They come to believe that life is about keeping one’s guard high, always ready to attack or defend. The silent enemy can strike at any moment.
Parentification should not be treated as a norm.
Despite the obvious fact that a Child has the mind and resources of a Child, and an Adult has the experience and mind of an Adult, families with a Problem often live under the belief that the child can manage—because they must.
Sometimes the idea of the “Little Adult” in a dysfunctional home is approached without reflection. Other times, it is accompanied by a sense of resignation—“it is what it is”—while the extra pair of helping hands becomes a convenient solution.
Children experience parentification with a wide range of emotions. What parentification gives them is a sense of influence and control—something that may seem appealing in a sea of unpredictability and chaos. But over time, it becomes clear that a child taking on roles beyond their age loses something essential.
They may feel a tangible sense of loss:
They “cannot,” because they skipped crucial developmental stages.
They “do not understand” themselves, the world, or other people, because they never had the chance to know life outside the role of the Little Adult.
Such individuals often focus on the problems of others while neglecting their own—because that is what they were taught. Parentification is a shadow issue—one worth saying goodbye to in therapy.
The experience of parentification shapes a person—it grants temporary control, lifelong skills, and adaptation to a hostile environment—but it also takes away. It is worth fighting for oneself and acknowledging the losses of the past, even though doing so can be difficult.
The Curse of Early Maladaptive Schemas
They say that spells do not belong in the realm of psychology, yet the incantations of early maladaptive schemas resemble a curse. To quote a character from the film 'The Welts', based on the novel 'Gnój by Wojciech Kuczok.
“My father knew how to beat me without leaving any marks. My welts were never visible.”
The absence of visible marks on the body did not mean the suffering disappeared — nor that it could be dismissed as if it had never happened. In light of contemporary psychological knowledge, such reasoning seems little more than rhetorical acrobatics.Similarly with maladaptive, unresolved childhood schemas: the fact that they are invisible and may have formed many years ago does not mean they don’t exist. Their presence is revealed through emotional suffering and the damaging consequences of their ‘work’ in adulthood.
The Curse'I'm not important.''You don't have the right'
According to Attachment Parenting, a child comes into the world with innate needs and a primitive way of expressing them. At birth, the child reminds the world—through a cry—that it matters. It says, “I am.”Throughout life, the child gradually learns—both unconsciously and through intentional effort—how to identify, express, and fulfill its own needs. As shown in therapeutic and medical practice, the level of self-identification and need expression varies widely. It depends not only on genetic predispositions but also, to a large extent, on the influence of the family environment.
A family struggling with alcoholism or another dysfunction is often one where the development of emotional and social competencies—as well as self-reflection—is not supported.
So much is happening that the child’s needs are buried, overlooked, and left unexamined. Consciously or not, the child learns that they are not enough—not important. Again and again, they experience that there is a “thing more important than me”—the Problem—around which the entire family’s life revolves.
Faced with this reality, and depending on biological and environmental factors, the child may adopt various coping stances. Some children fight for the family’s attention—throwing on the gloves and stepping into the ring.
What are the signs that a child has begun to fight for attention?
Sometimes the child says it out loud—cries or shouts that “I exist, and I need simple things... the things every kid needs.”
Other times, they behave “badly,” gradually accepting—more or less willingly—the label of “the difficult child.”
When they *“make a mess” or “break things,” they are not only releasing emotional tension, but also creating moments in which they cannot be ignored.
Unfortunately, the child has no way of knowing that in such situations, the adults around them—whether in school or at home—will often focus solely on the “horns” (the bad behavior), and not on the unmet needs behind it, especially the need to be noticed, to be taken into account.When attention-seeking behaviors fail—or when a child’s temperament prevents them from fighting for recognition—they may internalize the belief that nothing they do will ever win them the war against the Family Problem.
They blend into the background.Often, they stop fighting altogether for anyone’s attention, and instead adopt maladaptive strategies for dealing with their emotions and unmet needs—such as escaping into substance use.
“I never wanted to be like my father.”
This is what the hell of being an Adult Child of an Alcoholic (ACoA) looks like.
"Nigdy nie chciałem być, jak mój tata". Tak wygląda piekło DDA
Can a painful chapter of life—such as childhood—truly be left in the past? And if so, how?
Many people have taken on the challenge of working through such difficult experiences. One of them is Anna Lewandowska, whose personal story I refer to as an example of a resilient and positive fighter.
The Curse
"The world is threatening."
"People cause harm."
A home with dysfunction—or an alcohol-related problem—shapes the angle and focus through which a child sees the world.
Depending on the nature and intensity of the dysfunction, this lens of perception becomes more or less distorted.
The mind of a person raised amid the ruins of uncertainty—never knowing what might happen next—often remains stuck in a state of hypervigilance.
The child is always “ready,” “on alert.” Even when “nothing is happening,” and everything seems “normal,” the child, conditioned by harm and its cyclical return, involuntarily produces a flood of mental questions.
And the questions are many...
Will the unwanted intruder—alcohol, dysfunction, or talk of its aftermath—appear in the home again?
Will there be tension, a fight? Will I get caught in the crossfire?
Will I manage to escape to my room in time?
Will the caregiver, drunk or sober, come in uninvited and start talking?
How should I respond? Should I nod along? Answer rudely? Stay silent and hope it ends soon?
In such a home, when a child needs something, they often think it through several times before asking.
Sometimes, instead of asking for a new pair of sneakers, they suppress their actual need and scan their mind for possible—and impossible—scenarios of how the request might be received.
This posture of constant worry and internal questioning can become a permanent part of adult life.
A life marked by mental escape strategies and daily survival plans.
“Just make it to tomorrow…”
Start again. Run—though it’s never clear exactly from what or to where.
Is there hope of freeing the mind from the cycle of overthinking and chronic worry?
Absolutely.
But as the saying goes: it’s not always easy.
Sometimes it takes long hours of psychotherapy, body work, releasing trauma and painful memories—
But it can bring relief.
And for that reason… it’s worth trying.
The Curse
"My needs are overlooked."
In a dysfunctional home, there is a hunger for needs—felt by everyone.
A hungry person, driven by the instinct of deprivation, cannot simply erase their needs or stop thinking about them.
Unmet needs always find a way to speak—often at the most unexpected moments.
Sometimes, they appear like the blaring horn of the car behind you at a red light, waking you from the lethargy of waiting and pushing you to move forward, to do something.
Children raised in a dysfunctional home are consciously or unconsciously encouraged to fall into a kind of numbness—a dissociation from their own needs.
As adults, they fall asleep behind the wheel.
They lack the support, the knowledge, the practice, and the emotional skills that are typically passed down in functional homes.
Instead, many fill themselves with so-called “substitute activities” that keep them numb—disconnected from the hunger.
They may escape into substance use, eating disorders, or workaholism.
When they step out of their “vehicle”—the one meant to drive them toward meeting their needs—and immerse themselves in substitutes, their needs temporarily vanish from awareness.
They miss the horn.
They miss the green light.
Some try to compensate by seeking outside support—leaving their own “car” and jumping into someone else’s—searching for role models, stability, or guidance outside their original family system.
Others freeze.They stop feeling, stop identifying their needs.
It's as if they’ve lost their sense of self—and even when the world around them blares its horns or flashes its lights—they do nothing.
All they feel is pain and tension.
They don’t know how to care for themselves.
Sometimes, they only realize something is missing after many years—perhaps by observing others who weren’t raised in dysfunctional homes.
And then, the idea of satisfying the Hunger for Needs can seem like a fairy tale—a legend about some mythical “Happy Button of Joy and Well-being”… that everyone else seems to have, but they somehow missed.
These individuals forget that they have the right—to feel, to need, to be.
Their Maslow’s pyramid is built on shaky foundations, using bricks that have been torn out, thrown around, or even taken from other people.
“Just around the corner, another battle awaits.”
The person feels the destructive force of the world and either runs—or defends themselves with all they have left.
There is no grounding, no calm bricklaying—no space for building a life plan, for discovering the self, or for understanding the world with all its shades of light and dark.
For Adult Children of Alcoholics, the escape becomes a marathon away from the symbolic “liquid in the bottle.”For Adult Children of Dysfunction, it’s an escape from the Big, or Recurring, or Chronic Problem—one that reappears like an unwelcome guest, constantly disrupting whatever fragile sense of family normalcy existed.
In adulthood, such individuals often feel lost, asking themselves where healthy boundaries lie—what is “normal,” and how much discomfort should one tolerate before it becomes harm.
In my view, to determine whether a person is within a healthy range of functioning, one can ask:– Is everyday life free from suffering—both my own and that of those around me?
– Do I feel a sense of peace, and that everything in my life is in its right place?
Roles — but not theatrical ones — on the ship sailing across the ocean of a dysfunctional home.
Out of fear of drowning in a sea of Problems and Difficulties, both younger and older children may adopt various coping strategies—family roles.
These roles are taken on as a means of survival, a way to cling to hope and move toward a safe shore—toward a square of normality.
As both clinical practice and psychological literature show, these roles often appear in patterned, almost predictable ways.Yet they are not a rule—there is no universal formula.
The Hero — diving in after the one drowning in the sea of Alcohol or Dysfunction.
A child sailing alone in a small boat across the Sea of Dysfunction is forced to explore many domains of everyday life.
Along the way, they may crash into icebergs, frozen surfaces, or jagged rocks—
The Sea of Problems, with a capital P.
To the North: whisky, vodka, tequila, mezcal, cachaça, soju, sake, baijiu, pisco—brandy, rakia, grappa, rum, aquavit, arak, absinthe, korn, shochu, palinka, ouzo... A sea of names for alcohols that are neither inherently good nor bad— but when consumed problematically, they wreck and drown entire families.
To the South: more capital-P Problems, rooted in the environment where the child is raised.
To the Southeast: issues related to an unhealed caregiver’s personality disorder—
narcissistic traits, borderline features, unaddressed through therapy.To the Southwest: yet another ocean of painful, unwanted life circumstances—
like chronic illness in the family or economic dysfunction,
where daily life becomes a game of Financial Russian Roulette.
It is a sea of names and a sea of Problems— all of which threaten to drown both the child and those they love most.
When you see someone drowning—especially someone you love—
the instinct is to jump in, reach out, and try to save them.
But when you're a child—still learning how to walk—you also need care.
You, too, need a steady hand reaching toward you.
For a child, help can mean the difference between being and not being.
But what if we flipped the roles?
What are the chances of a child saving a drowning adult from the Sea of Problems?
The odds border on miraculous.
It’s hard enough to grasp that someone you love might choose to immerse themselves in alcohol’s illusion— setting sail toward numbness and leaving everything behind.
But it’s even harder for a child to comprehend the cruel unfairness of fate:
that their parent has been chosen to suffer.
And meanwhile—both mentally and tangibly—the household collapses into chaos.
In moments of helplessness and absence, we are left with two options:
to respond actively, or to shut down passively.
Entering the process of parentification—a reversal of roles—the child becomes a “professor of adult life.” They take over responsibilities, teach, correct, protect, support, and put their own problems aside.
They protect the adult in order to protect themselves from the experience of absence and lack.
Like a strongman dressed as a firefighter, the Hero tries to save and stay strong.
But can this child realistically fulfill their dream of putting out the fire for good— for example, extinguishing a parent’s burning alcohol problem?
The answer is obvious: they cannot.
Yet the child refuses to give themselves permission to admit defeat,
because to do so would mean losing hope for stability and help—
and symbolically, this would mean death.
Thrown around by the waves of dysfunction, the Hero learns to swim—
to survive in chaos and master impossible situations.
They carry a sense of responsibility and competence far beyond their years.
When the Hero steps in to rescue, they do not stop to think how old they are,
or that they too have a need to be with peers,
to feel normal childhood.
That childhood normality is placed on indefinite hold—
deferred to “someday.”
The Hero, more often than not, stands alone on the battlefield, relying only on themselves.
On the inside, they experience deeply.
On the outside, almost nothing shows.
In adulthood, they carry with them a suit of armor—
forged from courage and experiences beyond their age.
But also from undefined traumas and unconscious compulsions.
The Hero pays a price for being the one who saves.
The Role of the Invisible Child — “I simply don’t exist.
The dream of those who play the Invisible Child role is to become a ghost—unseen by others. A highly developed survival tactic—not drawing attention to oneself—grows gradually in children raised in dysfunctional homes. Under the weight of chronic fear, these individuals freeze their connection to their own emotions and needs. They adopt the role of a chameleon—blending seamlessly into the backdrop of daily life.
You’ll often find them alone, immersed in private, hidden activities.
Inside, however, they are often enduring an emotional storm—sailing through the turbulent seas of family dysfunction. But on the outside, it’s invisible.
As part of an unspoken pact with themselves—they remain silent.
Even when in pain, they suffer inwardly.
This often leads to self-harm or emotional self-neglect.
Guided by their inner strategy, they build hiding places
– Physical ones: in moments of fear, they may literally retreat into closets, cars, or under blankets.
– Social masks: masks of “good behavior” and outward perfection. They control every detail to avoid making mistakes.
At the same time, they hide mentally—behind socially approved roles:
the high-achiever, the quiet artist, the busy student.
They hide behind straight-A grades, respected hobbies, and schedules so full that no one stops to ask what they’re really feeling.
These individuals often become masters of excuses—experts at invisibility.
The disconnect from what they truly feel—and from who they really are—often follows them into adulthood.
They don’t want to be “the thing that rubs inside the shoe”—the one that bothers, irritates, takes up space. So they adapt. They behave impeccably, or they disappear altogether—
making it incredibly difficult to form deep, alive, mutual relationships with others.
The Role of the Clown
The Family Mascot
“I entertain, therefore I live / we survive.”
“Go talk to your dad. You’re the only one who can cheer him up and convince him to stop drinking.”
Words like these were likely heard by many children who took on the Clown role in a dysfunctional home. The child becomes an emotional sponge and soothing balm for the entire family—absorbing tension caused by the dysfunction.
They are expected to rise above their own feelings and thoughts.Smiling, cheerful, always “in a good mood,”
they perform emotional theatre to save the family from yet another crisis.
A massive responsibility weighs on them.
Over the years, the child’s own boundaries and needs are blurred and erased—until their family-stage smile becomes glued on.
They allow too much.
They justify others’ behavior—even when it crosses their comfort zone or personal limits.
They adopt a submissive stance and wear a mask of contentment—focused entirely on keeping others comfortable and satisfied.
Many of these individuals do not actually feel joy or satisfaction; instead, they display only surface-level reactions—responses they believe are expected of them, even well into adulthood.
They may struggle with mood disorders, lack of motivation, and a persistent sense of meaninglessness.
Some escape into substance use—simply to avoid feeling anything at all.
The show must go on..
Queen - The Show Must Go On (Official Video)
The Role of the Black Sheep
“There’s always that one in the family.”
“Do you keep a pain journal — whether inside yourself or on paper?”
That’s a provocative question worth asking someone known as the Black Sheep of the Family.
On the surface — and in practice — the person who creates “trouble” and breaks social norms in response to family dysfunction is usually perceived through the lens of their horns — the consequences of their behavior, not its roots or function.
The Black Sheep gives voice — directly and indirectly — to their protest against dysfunction, against the Problem, and the destabilization of the family system.
When chaos erupts due to dysfunction, and everyone else tries to patch things up or keep the peace, the Black Sheep — in contrast to the other family members — throws more wood into the Family Cauldron of Problems.
The house starts burning even hotter, and a reaction is required — urgently.
Common mantras heard by those in this role:
“We’re all having problems because of you.”
“We can’t afford this right now.”
“Why couldn’t you just let it go?”
“You’re the only one who’s always causing trouble.”
These words, like poison, drip into the soul of the child or adolescent — taking root over years and shaping the role of the one who “can’t get it right” and is always “showing their worst side.”
The Role of the Black Sheep
“There’s always that one in the family.”
“Do you keep a pain journal — whether inside yourself or on paper?”
That’s a provocative question worth asking someone known as the Black Sheep of the Family.
On the surface — and in practice — the person who creates “trouble” and breaks social norms in response to family dysfunction is usually perceived through the lens of their horns — the consequences of their behavior, not its roots or function.
The Black Sheep gives voice — directly and indirectly — to their protest against dysfunction, against the Problem, and the destabilization of the family system.
When chaos erupts due to dysfunction, and everyone else tries to patch things up or keep the peace, the Black Sheep — in contrast to the other family members — throws more wood into the Family Cauldron of Problems.
The house starts burning even hotter, and a reaction is required — urgently.
Common mantras heard by those in this role:
“We’re all having problems because of you.”
“We can’t afford this right now.”
“Why couldn’t you just let it go?”
“You’re the only one who’s always causing trouble.”
These words, like poison, drip into the soul of the child or adolescent — taking root over years and shaping the role of the one who “can’t get it right” and is always “showing their worst side.”
In adulthood, such individuals often become prisoners of their maladaptive ways of seeking attention. What they know is: releasing emotional pressure by acting out, entering into conflict with others — including with authority figures — and repeating cycles of problematic interactions.
The development of the Black Sheep role in a family is often fostered by chronic tension within the household. Through unconscious modeling, the child internalizes patterns of breaking family rules and begins to mirror behaviors exhibited by caregivers — even when those behaviors are socially unacceptable.
In a dysfunctional family system, the generally accepted rules of conduct are distorted:
“Some people are allowed to do anything, while others must obey — at any cost.”
The Black Sheep role serves to redirect attention and emotional tension away from the core family issue — such as parental alcoholism — toward a substitute problem.
This “replacement conflict” becomes a convenient distraction, an emotionally manageable outlet for the family’s daily functioning.But what does the person playing the role of the Black Sheep really do?
Family scapegoat, prized, needed and envied | Diane Collins | TEDxFederalHillThey release themselves from the burden of saving a parent — and a family — drowning in a sea of dysfunction that lacks the resources to break its own status quo.
They express defiance.
They search for fairness and equal treatment.
They allow themselves to replicate not what they are told, but what they see every day.
They challenge authority figures — because it’s hard to find meaning in the words of those who “know more” and “have lived longer,”
when their actions tell a very different story.
In adulthood, such individuals often become prisoners of their maladaptive ways of seeking attention. What they know is: releasing emotional pressure by acting out, entering into conflict with others — including with authority figures — and repeating cycles of problematic interactions.
The development of the Black Sheep role in a family is often fostered by chronic tension within the household. Through unconscious modeling, the child internalizes patterns of breaking family rules and begins to mirror behaviors exhibited by caregivers — even when those behaviors are socially unacceptable.
In a dysfunctional family system, the generally accepted rules of conduct are distorted:“Some people are allowed to do anything, while others must obey — at any cost.”
The Black Sheep role serves to redirect attention and emotional tension away from the core family issue — such as parental alcoholism — toward a substitute problem.
This “replacement conflict” becomes a convenient distraction, an emotionally manageable outlet for the family’s daily functioning.
But what does the person playing the role of the Black Sheep really do?
They release themselves from the burden of saving a parent — and a family — drowning in a sea of dysfunction that lacks the resources to break its own status quo.
They express defiance.
They search for fairness and equal treatment.
They allow themselves to replicate not what they are told, but what they see every day.
They challenge authority figures — because it’s hard to find meaning in the words of those who “know more” and “have lived longer,”
when their actions tell a very different story.
They free themselves from the need to rescue their parent and family — both drowning in a sea of dysfunction, without the resources to break the status quo.
They express rebellion.
They seek fair and equal treatment.
They allow themselves to repeat not what they are told, but what they observe daily.
They challenge authority — because it's hard to find meaning in the words of those who “know more and have lived longer,” when their actions contradict the very things they preach.
The Black Sheep often searches for – or demands – something that was promised at the very beginning: normalcy – rules and structure.
Unfortunately, one of the side effects of playing the Black Sheep role within the family is having fewer opportunities to grow and truly discover oneself outside the household shaped by dysfunction.
Such individuals often hide their skills and talents – and sometimes, they’re not even aware of them.
Many people in their surroundings tend to minimize or dismiss their accomplishments, which further undermines their self-worth.
In adulthood, burdened with ingrained patterns (like automatic rebellion) and the accumulated consequences of socially disapproved behaviors, it can be hard for them to reach the goals they once set on the horizon of life.
Their wings are clipped — and often, they’re not allowed to grow back. Sometimes, they sabotage their own efforts. Sadly, there’s almost always someone around to remind them of past mistakes and throw them into the box labeled “You always have to mess things up.”
People in this role may reinforce the cycle simply because they lack faith — in themselves and in the possibility of real change.
"When the scapegoat grows up.."
Looking at the brighter side of the moon, however — there are those who seek new challenges, fresh environments, and who actively work on themselves, including through therapy. They look for adult-level influence — a new chapter in life — a second chance.
A dysfunctional home may become a lifelong shadow, etched into the memory structures of the hippocampus — but it doesn’t have to.
Working through it can start with one question: What motivates me, and what is my goal? — either alone, or with the support of a therapist.
At the same time, I understand that everyone must find their own moment, go through their own training, gain knowledge,
and eventually play a Master Game with themselves — for their own, adult vision of who they want to become.
Next Chapter – Adulthood
“What does it even matter in adult life?Maybe it’s time to burn the mental photos of ‘home’ and the images in my head… and just move on?”
Flashover Demonstration
To begin with, there is no single definition of ‘normal.’ There is no universal pattern for how an Adult Child of an Alcoholic or someone raised in a Dysfunctional Home presents themselves. Some individuals, thanks to support received outside their family home, develop healthy coping mechanisms. Those with an innate sense of flexibility are more likely to succeed in this way — they are the lucky ones who may never find themselves in a psychologist’s or psychiatrist’s office.
Unfortunately, as practice shows, many people raised in dysfunction remain in it well into adulthood and eventually seek help from mental health professionals. They may experience symptoms of mood disorders, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive behaviors, or chronically heightened arousal — difficulty relaxing, and exaggerated responses to minor stimuli. Relational struggles, and a sense of emptiness or lack of fulfillment despite ‘everything being fine,’ are also common.Some people, no matter what happens, will never ask for help — they’ll keep functioning as best as they can. But there are also those who feel that ‘something’s not right’ and see the value in self-reflection and working on themselves. They may not feel they’ve ever found their own ‘normal.’ For those raised in families with varying degrees of dysfunction, a few words of introduction might be useful — especially before stepping into a therapy or psychiatry session.
Not every person raised in a Dysfunctional Home will experience problems that reach the level of 'paranormal phenomena.' Just as there are different types of alcohol addiction — including high-functioning alcoholism — the scale and intensity of difficulties leading to the need for a diagnosis and support can also vary greatly. It’s important to keep this in mind.
Field for Therapy
“Mr. Stressy” – The Problem with Relaxation and Doing Nothing
If you have trouble evoking a state of relaxation, you may belong to the group of people who experience chronic activation of the survival system — the “fight or flight” response, also known as heightened baseline arousal of the nervous system.
While most people can relax and stop thinking about their problems, such a person struggles to “switch off” thoughts in both the mind and the body. They often feel constant tension and somaticize — meaning that even in the absence of physical illness, they experience symptoms such as nausea, diarrhea, or heart palpitations.The cause of this condition is a maladaptive resetting of the internal “arousal alarm clock,” rooted in chronic anticipation of threat — the “ticking bomb” of family dysfunction.
In such individuals, the threshold of arousal becomes shifted, and the body reacts excessively even to minor stimuli.
For example, imagine a child who repeatedly woke up at night because an intoxicated father came home, fearing that he might burst into the room and start an argument. Over time, the child’s body adapts to this persistent stress, learning to wake up even at the slightest sound.
They don't need the alarm like that...
Consequently, even in the absence of stressors or under calm conditions, these individuals may feel chronically anxious or restless. When they go on vacation, they tend to seek activities that help them discharge psychomotor tension and redirect attention — just for a moment — away from worry and toward something safe and engaging.
More about how trauma affects the functioning of the human brain — illustrated by the example of an adult soldier, a person with PTSD... for the little soldiers who fight their own wars in the sea of dysfunction.
Mr. “I’ve seen it all"
When danger feels ordinary, and instability feels normal.
When you grew up on a ship carried by the dangerous sea of alcoholism or dysfunction, you may have, as a child, experienced things — actively or passively — far beyond what most adults could tolerate.
For many children raised in such homes, danger and instability were part of daily life — their “daily bread.”
Because of biological predispositions, combined with the “favorable conditions” of a dysfunctional home, their tolerance for danger and chaos becomes shifted later in adulthood.
Accustomed to constant change and unpredictability — to the roller coaster of survival — they subconsciously seek opportunities to “test themselves in battle” and to feel the imbalance that once defined their safety.
For them, the stormy Norwegian Sea is the norm.
On calm land, they feel restless — even bored — and unable to find their footing.
When they finally begin to live a peaceful and stable life, they somehow manage to steer their ship back into familiar dangerous waters, marked by the warning flag: Do Not Enter.
Normality, on one hand, gives them the seasickness of stability, yet on the other, they constantly long for it.
Throughout their lives, they swing between two extremes — wanting to be both “here and there.”
This tendency toward risk and self-created crises can, over time, lead to greater or lesser consequences.
Can such individuals, once motivated, find peace in the “boring and repetitive reality” — and in therapy?
I believe it depends greatly on motivation, consistency, and perspective.
What truly matters is whether they are seeking adaptation and a safe way to express their darker nature — finding a stimulating compromise, for instance, through extreme sports or creative outlets.
As a physician and therapist, I often suggest avoiding “solo dives” like the one below —
those are best reserved for the Selected Few, carefully guided by a trained team.
I recommend going into a jump like the one below — with the professionals.
Mr. 'I have problems with close relationships.'
Me in relationships – issues at the borderline of personality disorders and personality disorder itself.
In the Kaleidoscope of Relational Collapses and Returns – Attraction and Repulsion.
According to psychological knowledge, our core beliefs — the mental definitions of the world and of relationships — are formed during the first years of life.
They arise from the knowledge received from important and close people.
These beliefs are based on both direct and indirect information: on what a caregiver says openly, and on what they model through their behavior.
A family busy saving the drowning has no space left to support the child’s mechanisms of exploration and self-care in a safe way.
Such an environment teaches that lowering one’s guard — even at home — ends in a blow, one that comes when it’s least expected.
You can either fight and be heard, or give up and stay silent.
Close relationships in adulthood often become the main arena where relational traumas from childhood reveal themselves.
In a dysfunctional home, close ones are either absent, or present but dismissive; or they both attract and repel; or they are there and not there — and afraid.
A home marked by alcoholism or other dysfunctions is an emotional amusement park — full of motion, chaos, and intensity, but offering little stability or rest.
As Roisin Murphy sings:
“And just when everything starts to come together...All my hard work goes to waste —
Murphy’s Law strikes again.”
All their efforts to build a relationship seem to fail —
and the harder they try, the more fate bows ironically, layering catastrophe upon catastrophe.
They feel like a snowball gathering speed,
racing toward the inevitable collapse — an emotional crash marking the end of yet another connection.
In a word — disaster.
After each relational crisis, just as in their childhood home,
they do their best to keep going despite the wounds —
to keep the relational kaleidoscope turning,
pushing life forward together, even when everything keeps falling apart.
"The Relational Murphy’s Law.
Is it just a coincidence that once again I’ve landed in the wreckage of a relationship — surrounded by the mentally shattered bones?
When searching for the etiology of the pattern of instability in close relationships, it is worth turning to John Bowlby’s theory of attachment.
When a child’s focus is redirected toward the problem of family dysfunction and the dysfunction itself, it may have difficulty forming a stable, available, and secure bond with a primary caregiver.Ideally, the goal is to develop a secure attachment style, which provides emotional safety and consistency.
However, in many cases, alternative patterns emerge — hybrid models of mental representations of relationships.
Naturally, the severity and expression of these difficulties depend on the specific context of the family and the individual.
Among these hybrid attachment styles, people raised in families marked by dysfunction and emotionally unstable caregivers often exhibit what is known as a disorganized attachment style.
In interactions with such individuals in adulthood, it can be difficult to discern whether they seek closeness and comfort — or, conversely, prefer distance and isolation.
Their relationships are often turbulent, emotionally intense, and unpredictable, making it hard for both partners to “catch their breath” or experience the sweet, steady rhythm of calm connection.
Such individuals may send mixed or contradictory signals to their partners, which in turn elicit extreme and confused reactions from those around them.
Their love lives often resemble a rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows — moments of closeness followed by sudden withdrawal or conflict.
Another hybrid model is the avoidant attachment style.People with this pattern are often so afraid of what emotional closeness might trigger that they prefer to stand aside and observe, rather than engage deeply in relationships.
They may silently thank others for their attempts at connection — but choose not to participate fully themselves.
Still others enter relationships with problematic or incompatible partners, even when these relationships clearly show red flags and little potential for long-term stability.
They unconsciously replay familiar relational scripts learned in their childhood homes — repeating what once hurt them, but also what feels strangely safe and known.
It is as if they see the red flags —
and still respond, according to the old inner pattern:
“Yes… I’m saying yes.”
"Can someone tell me why we ignore all the red flags?"
"The problem – 'You deserve punishment.'The problem of self-punishment.
In many families affected by dysfunction, there is a recurring problem with healthy ways of releasing tension and processing the negative emotions that naturally arise from living within such an environment.
It often happens that, instead of addressing the core issue, family members begin to search for a substitute culprit — redirecting attention and finding an outlet for the accumulated frustration caused by the family’s ongoing difficulties.
A “used-up pen,” a “B instead of an A on a test,” or a “stain on the sofa” can become reasons for punishing a child — in an exaggerated, hyperbolic reaction that symbolically serves as punishment “for everything.”
The child may be punished physically, emotionally, or even financially, and often in multiple ways at once.
Because it is a child, it has no ability to rise above the situation, defend itself, or understand why the punishment occurred in the first place.
After being punished repeatedly for minor infractions, the child begins to internalize the belief that it deserves punishment simply for existing.
Sometimes, in an attempt to regain a sense of control, the child may anticipate the blow — using self-punishing strategies to self-regulate, such as self-harm or provoking the caregiver’s anger just to get it over with.In those moments, the child experiences an illusion of control — being able to choose the time, place, and form of the punishments one of my therapy clients once said very poignantly:
“My sense of self-worth simply doesn’t exist.”
In adulthood, such individuals tend to sabotage themselves, provoke others, or step into the role of the defeated, because deep inside they believe that their role in relationships is to be the background — a sponge for others’ emotions.
This internalized dynamic often leads to depression, anxiety, or neurotic disorders.
At their core, the dominant emotion that lives inside them is an all-encompassing anger.
Yet, they are often terrified of expressing it — afraid of what I sometimes call “the inner Hulk effect” — fearing both the eruption within and the consequences without.
Fortunately, this anger usually doesn’t take the form of a Marvel Hero — it looks more like the one below.
What has been worked through gives you the strength to live and to fight for yourself.
Help... I’m drowning in adult — or not-so-adult — life...
The overarching goal is a safe base.
As life and practice show, there is no truly effective help — especially in the context of long-term support and restructuring maladaptive patterns — if a child does not have a safe base.A warm meal, a place to sleep, freedom from violence — it may sound simple, almost trivial, yet it is often forgotten.
It’s worth remembering.
One of the young protagonists says:
Sometimes I go crazy from hunger.
My siblings have nothing to eat either,
so I go out and try to find a way to survive.”
When the basic needs of safety and stability are destabilized, a person — whether an adult or a child — acts out of impulse and instinct.
If a child has nothing to eat, no shelter, no sense of safety, and is left alone without support, then telling them that the world outside is safe and different from what they see only violates their inner attempt to cope with reality.
Helping people — children or adults — in situations where their fundamental needs are threatened must begin with a base to rebound from.
The importance of this can be clearly seen, for example, in the documentary “Venezuela: The Land of Forgotten Children.”
“I pray to God that I live to 50 — that I don’t get killed before then.
Fortunately, in Poland such situations are not everyday reality, but they do happen — and we should not forget that.
Why and where is it worth asking for help?
Therapy for people raised in a home with a serious problem is often a marathon, not a sprint.
Depending on how long it lasted, the child’s age, and the intensity of destabilizing experiences, the fragile and developing psyche undergoes more or less visible changes.
The imprints on a child’s mind alter how they see themselves and the world.
Often, the child simply doesn’t know an alternative vision of life — of people, safety, or love.
When someone says, “It can be different — better,”
the child has no real-life examples to confirm that.
They only know stories and memories that validate their version of the world — one built on pain and survival.
Therapy is the process of rediscovering the world and oneself —
of expanding the inner database with new, lived experiences that prove another way of living is possible.
It’s learning, experimenting, finding — and building a soothing relationship with oneself and with another caring human being.
The process of inner work often begins with naming the facts
and bringing order to one’s experiences in the reality of adulthood.
This can start with reading — books, articles, or inspiring biographies of those who once lived the same story, but eventually learned to live differently.
Is it better to stay alone, in the cabin of my small boat, tossed about by the sea of problems — enduring fear and pain, both real and imagined — all by myself?
The question may seem simple, even banal — but from the perspective of a doctor or therapist, it rarely is.
Therapeutic practice shows that many people benefit from temporarily inviting one person — a therapist — onto their mental boat,
and sometimes a group of people who have lived through similar experiences, together with a group therapist.Both individual and group therapy can, at first, rely on reflection and gentle engagement from a distance.
Simply listening can open a door — a way out of hopelessness —
and create the first steps toward finding an active path out of a mental impasse.
Every day is a chance for change —
with the right conditions, the right people —
the variables are many, but still… each day is a chance.
Many well-known people have struggled — and still struggle — with experiences rooted in childhood.
Many others have overcome them and are trying to live the best they can.
There are countless mechanisms that keep people trapped in cycles of violence, stagnation, and dysfunctional patterns.
One of these mechanisms — the “betrayal blindness” and the dynamics of abusive entanglement —
has been deeply explored by Jennifer Freyd, who described how loyalty and survival instincts can silence awareness of abuse itself.
Another is the concept of learned helplessness, described by Martin Seligman.
Learned Helplessness - How you're unconsciously destroying your life.
Project Better Self - Youtube
In films and art, we often encounter the idea of a chance that must not be wasted.
In real life, the greatest loss is not to try at all —to waste the chance to live one’s own life,
in a form that feels true and possible, or to be trapped behind the barrier of unawareness —
not even knowing that life could be better.
“8 Mile.”
What is the real Eighth Mile?
I don’t know — that question belongs to each of us, individually.
who feel that only in their lives or their homes have things happened that were somehow “not right” —
this is for the moment when they are ready to ask for help.
Below is a list of places where one can find guidance or therapy.
The world is not perfect — and those people already know that.
There are many places of support, and not every method will fit everyone.
Yet each of these spaces may offer a chance to recreate the inner map —
to revisit memories and wounds, to process and transform them, and to draw a new map, no longer through the lens of pain, but through choice and awareness.
To free oneself from the traumas of the closed room, and to sail onward —
alone or accompanied — on the great sea of Life.
And that, indeed, sounds noble.
