Family Dynamics for Trauma Survivors During the Holidays

Anonymous

I am a child abuse survivor. I was abused by members of my own family for most of my childhood. I didn’t say a word to anyone because they told me they would hurt me even more if I did. And nobody noticed the signs.

My family is well-known in the community. Everywhere we went, my parents would run into people they knew. I was always told to behave because “people are watching us.” But no one ever noticed what was really happening behind closed doors. On the outside, my family appeared happy, connected, and thriving—but in reality, we were deeply dysfunctional. Since we looked fine from the outside, no one suspected abuse. No one looked closer. My family had mastered the façade of being “perfect.”

Fast forward to adulthood: I finally confronted a family member about the abuse. He denied it. He told everyone I was lying, and my family chose to believe him instead of me. They chose denial over truth. The result was that I became the outcast. I was labeled the problem child and blamed for the division in the family. I was told that I needed to “resolve things” with my abuser so that everyone could be together again.

I was gaslighted into wondering if maybe I had made it all up. As a child, I spent years trying to please my abusers—believing that if I just made them happy enough, they’d stop hurting me. That mindset stuck with me. Even now, part of me still believes that pleasing my family might somehow fix everything. It’s hard to accept that it never will. It’s hard not to blame myself for the brokenness of my family.

When the holidays come around, all of these feelings intensify. There’s so much focus on “family” during this time of year, and mine celebrates without me. They get together while I’m left wondering why my abusers are still welcomed with open arms, while I’m the one being left out. Why are they allowed around the kids, but I’m not even allowed to talk to them? It’s so backwards. So painful. So wrong.

The holidays are especially hard because part of me still longs for the acceptance I’ll never get. The child in me still wants to be included—to feel like I belong. And without a partner or kids of my own, the loneliness can feel unbearable. I tell myself that maybe one day, when I have my own family, it will feel different. But my trauma symptoms make it hard to go out, to meet people, to make friends. It often feels like my trauma has stolen years of my life, and no matter how hard I work at healing, it still finds a way to derail me.

If you’re struggling with this too, you’re not alone. Experiencing abuse from a family member is devastating. Families are supposed to be safe places—where you grow, learn, and build your identity. When that safety is taken from you, it makes the entire world feel unsafe, even long after the abuse ends.

I’m so sorry if you’ve been excluded from your family too—especially if you were labeled the problem for speaking the truth. You deserve better. You deserve to heal and to find people who love and accept you exactly as you are. You are not the problem. You are the one breaking the cycle. That takes courage. That’s something to be proud of.

Keep holding on. Healing is possible, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.

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