Although memories seem to be a solid, straightforward sum of who people are, strong evidence suggests that memories are much more quite complex, highly subject to change, and often simply unreliable. Memories of past events can be reconstructed as people age or as their worldview changes. People regularly recall childhood events falsely, and through effective suggestions and other methods, it’s been proven that they can even create new false memories.
Why False Memories Are Common
A person’s malleable memories often involve the mundane, such as when we second-guess whether the stove really is off or on. But they can often be far more consequential, such as unreliable eyewitness recollections of a crime.
Human memory is pliable and easy to manipulate. A distorted memory or the introduction of later, false information can affect how we recall events we experienced firsthand. A person’s existing knowledge can impede and obstructs their own memory, leading to a newly formed, cobbled-together recollection that does not accurately reflect reality. Also, under certain circumstances, a person can be given false information and be convinced to believe that an event that never occurred actually did.
Should I question my memories?
Given that our recovered memories may be genuine or false, or a combination of the two, it is legitimate to question just how much of what you remember is real and how much is a misperception.
How can I identify a false memory?
Without material evidence, it’s hard to know for sure whether a memory is real or imagined. Even if you feel high conviction that a recollection is true, there is a high chance that the memory is flawed, by a little or a lot.
How do I get rid of false memories?
Just as a recollection can be altered into a false memory, it can be reversed as well. If you return to the memory and think closely about its details, you may be able to recreate the event over time. Through such a process, you reroute the false memory to a true one.
Why Memories Matter
A malleable memory can have especially dire consequences, particularly in legal settings when children are used as eyewitnesses. Research has found that a child may be especially susceptible to the implanting of false memories by parents or other authority figures. This becomes highly problematic when a case involves alleged sexual abuse or relies on the correct identification of a suspect by a child. But adults can also be tricked into remembering events that never happened, or changing the details of things that really did happen.
Why do I remember things that never happened?
Presented with incomplete information, the brain seeks to fill in the blanks. If you see a photo of a person you have never met, for example, and mutual friends have shared descriptive details on time spent with the person, you may start to believe that you have in fact met the individual.
Why do memories change over time?
Psychologist Elizabeth Loftus of the University of California at Irvine, an influential researcher on memory who has consulted on many high-profile legal cases involving disputed memories, including the McMartin preschool sexual abuse allegations, notes that everyone embellishes or adds to their memories during recall or recounting. Over time those changes, accurate or not, become part of the memory in the mind. Loftus warns that human memory is not a recording device, but more like a Wikipedia page: You can change it, but others can, too.
Most people struggle to recall events before the age of about 3 or 4, a phenomenon called childhood amnesia. In the first few years of life, a child’s body undergoes the process of neurogenesis, or the growth and development of nervous tissue. New nerve cells develop, and old cells get recycled or reformed, taking childhood memories away with them.
How Misinformation Is Easily Spread
On the internet, almost anyone claiming objectivity or impartiality can disseminate false memories through the dissemination of specious information. Misinformation, or “fake news,” has become ubiquitous through media such as doctored videos and photoshopped images as well as fabricated text. Such misinformation is especially persuasive with audiences who already harbor biases endorsed by the inaccurate messages.
Why is misinformation so detrimental?
Several recent events have proven that memory can become weaponized, often quite effectively. Once misinformation taken hold in a target’s mind, that new, false recollection hinders his or her ability to make informed decisions about policy and politicians. Fake news drives social discord and character assassination, and even corrupts crucial personal choices about health and well-being.
Biased thinking molds the way we remember. We all employ bias when perceiving, interpreting, and remembering information and events. This effect extends to the ways in which we tap our memories for information about fake news.
Can well-known events be altered?
In a study, researchers doctored images of well-known events and found that indeed a person’s recollection of even universally known, iconic events can be altered.
How to Spot Fake News
Investigate the source of the information and whether the site is reputable.
See who is listed in the “About” section or “Contact Us” page.
Check the author and scrutinize the person’s credibility.
Is the author a real person?
Don’t fall for clickbait headlines, read the entire post.
What is the purpose of the information?
Make sure the story is current and not lifted from old information.
Check the accompanying links for references and citations.
Search for more information on the claim.
Doctored images are sometimes obvious and can be searched via image sourcing tools.
It begins small. A little boy drops a glass and blames the cat. A teenager says she studied for the test, but didn’t. A man tells a friend he’s fine, even though his heart is broken. A woman tells her boss she’s on her way—though she’s still in her pajamas.
Deception weaves its way through everyday life. We do it to avoid shame, to save face, to gain advantage, to protect others, to feel safe. Most of the time, we don’t even notice we’re doing it. But beneath the surface, each lie—no matter how tiny or towering—leaves fingerprints on the mind.
To understand deception is to peer into one of the most complex and mysterious aspects of human psychology. It is not just about falsehood. It is about strategy, memory, emotion, fear, control, and even survival.
Lying is ancient. It is wired into our evolutionary history. And though it might be easy to judge liars from the outside, the real story unfolds deep inside the brain.
The Origins of Deception: Born to Lie?
Before we explore the inner workings of a liar’s mind, we must face a startling truth: the capacity for deception begins in childhood, often earlier than most people expect.
Infants as young as six months have been observed in experimental settings to feign distress to attract caregiver attention. By age two, toddlers can deliberately mislead. At age four or five, children develop what psychologists call theory of mind—the understanding that other people have beliefs, desires, and knowledge different from one’s own. This milestone is crucial for intentional lying.
The emergence of lying coincides with cognitive development. To lie, a child must juggle multiple mental tasks: invent a story, remember what’s been said, suppress the truth, and anticipate the reaction of others. It’s a kind of mental juggling act—and not a simple one.
Ironically, a child’s first lie is often a sign not of moral decay, but of mental sophistication. It marks the point where imagination, memory, and empathy collide.
What Happens in the Brain When We Lie?
Telling the truth is easy. It’s a direct retrieval of memory. But lying? That’s mental gymnastics.
Modern neuroscience offers extraordinary tools for peering into the brain as deception unfolds. Functional MRI (fMRI) scans and EEG readings have shown that lying activates multiple brain regions, including the prefrontal cortex, anterior cingulate cortex, and parietal lobes.
The prefrontal cortex is the executive center—the brain’s CEO. It handles planning, decision-making, and impulse control. To construct a believable lie, this region must suppress the truth and generate an alternative scenario. The anterior cingulate cortex, meanwhile, manages conflict detection. It lights up when our internal moral compass clashes with dishonest behavior.
This internal conflict is critical. It’s what causes physical signs of stress—fidgeting, sweating, voice pitch changes. It’s also why lying can be mentally exhausting.
But here’s the catch: not all lies feel bad. With practice, people can become desensitized to deception. Over time, the emotional and neurological “cost” of lying diminishes. This is how compulsive liars are born—not in a single moment, but through the slow erosion of conscience.
The Sliding Scale of Lies
Not all lies are created equal.
Some are harmless, even helpful. These are the so-called white lies—the kind we tell to protect feelings or maintain social harmony. “You look great in that outfit.” “I loved your presentation.” “I’m not mad.”
Then there are strategic lies, used to gain an advantage or manipulate outcomes. Politicians, negotiators, poker players—many rely on subtle forms of deception to achieve their goals.
And, of course, there are malicious lies—intended to harm, mislead, or destroy. These lies are heavy with intention and often rooted in deeper psychological dysfunctions, including narcissism, psychopathy, or unresolved trauma.
Understanding a liar means understanding their motive. Was it fear? Gain? Habit? Compassion? Self-image? The psychology of lying cannot be painted with one brush. Every falsehood tells a story, not just about what happened, but about why someone wanted to change the version of reality they shared.
Who Lies, and How Often?
You might think you’re an honest person—and perhaps you are. But research suggests we all bend the truth more than we’d like to admit.
A groundbreaking study by psychologist Robert Feldman found that people lie in about one in every five interactions lasting more than ten minutes. That’s not to say every lie is dramatic. Most are small exaggerations or omissions. But they’re still distortions.
Interestingly, people tend to lie more in certain contexts—job interviews, dating scenarios, social media posts. These are environments where impression management is crucial. We lie to look better, smarter, kinder, more successful.
But there’s a darker truth too: a small percentage of people tell the majority of lies. In one study, just 5% of participants were responsible for nearly 50% of all lies told. These individuals, often labeled prolific liars, tend to have distinct psychological profiles. They’re often more manipulative, less empathetic, and more comfortable with risk.
The Brain’s Emotional Load of Lying
Lying isn’t just a cognitive event—it’s an emotional one.
When we lie, especially about something meaningful, our body responds. Heart rate increases. Breathing changes. Pupils dilate. The body perceives lying as a stressor because it involves fear of detection and the guilt of dishonesty.
This emotional burden is what makes polygraphs (lie detectors) possible, though far from perfect. Polygraphs measure physiological signs of stress, not deception directly. And while they can sometimes detect lies, they’re also vulnerable to false positives. Anxious truth-tellers may be flagged, while practiced liars may fly under the radar.
The emotional weight of lying is also why confessions—real ones—often come with visible relief. The brain, no longer juggling conflicting realities, breathes easier when the truth is finally spoken.
Pathological Liars: When the Truth Becomes Alien
Pathological lying, also known as pseudologia fantastica, is a rare but deeply perplexing phenomenon. These individuals lie compulsively and often without clear motive. Their fabrications are elaborate, dramatic, and sometimes fantastical.
For pathological liars, the boundary between reality and fiction blurs. In some cases, they believe their own lies. In others, they lie knowing the truth, but unable to stop.
Brain scans of compulsive liars have shown increased white matter in the prefrontal cortex. This may suggest enhanced connectivity between brain regions—giving liars an edge in crafting stories and thinking on their feet. But it also hints at a possible structural difference in moral regulation.
Pathological lying often co-occurs with personality disorders, particularly narcissistic, antisocial, and histrionic personality disorders. In these cases, lying serves deeper psychological needs—attention, control, or manipulation.
Lying to Ourselves: The Art of Self-Deception
Perhaps the most profound lies are not the ones we tell others—but the ones we tell ourselves.
Self-deception is a psychological survival mechanism. It allows us to maintain a coherent self-image in the face of conflicting truths. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.” “I’m fine on my own.” “I could quit anytime.” “They just don’t understand me.”
These lies are comforting. They soften pain, blur guilt, and bolster confidence. Evolutionary psychologists suggest self-deception may have offered an adaptive advantage. If we believe our own lies, we become more convincing to others. Confidence—true or not—can be a powerful social tool.
But self-deception is a double-edged sword. It can protect mental health in the short term but distort reality in the long run. It keeps people in toxic relationships. It blinds them to destructive habits. It delays healing.
Inside the mind of a self-deceiver is a hall of mirrors—every reflection distorted just enough to make life feel manageable.
Spotting a Lie: Myths vs. Reality
Think liars always fidget or avoid eye contact? Think again.
Popular culture has filled our minds with myths about how deception looks. But research paints a more complex picture. Good liars often maintain eye contact. They don’t sweat profusely or shift nervously. They can appear calm, charming, and utterly sincere.
What truly differentiates a lie is cognitive load—the mental effort required to fabricate a believable story. Liars may pause more to think. Their stories may lack detail or sound too rehearsed. They may have trouble recalling their lies later. Their emotional expressions may not quite match the content of their words.
But there is no universal “tell.” Lie detection is a skill honed over time, and even trained professionals like FBI agents and psychologists are only slightly better than chance in detecting deception.
Ironically, the best liars are often the ones who believe their lies—or don’t feel guilty telling them. Without emotional leakage, the lie becomes almost indistinguishable from the truth.
Digital Lies: Deception in the Age of the Internet
In the digital era, lying has taken on new forms. Social media profiles are curated façades. Online dating apps are filled with selective truths. Deepfakes and AI-generated content blur the line between reality and illusion.
Online anonymity emboldens deception. People say things behind screens they would never say face-to-face. Cyber deception includes catfishing, identity fraud, fake news, and phishing scams. The consequences range from hurt feelings to financial ruin.
What makes online deception especially insidious is its scale and speed. A lie can reach millions in minutes. False information spreads faster than corrections. Our brains, designed for face-to-face interaction, struggle to navigate these new digital landscapes.
This raises urgent ethical and psychological questions: How do we cultivate honesty in a world of filters and avatars? What happens to our trust in reality when everything can be faked?
Can Lying Be Good?
Despite its bad reputation, lying is not always morally wrong. In some cases, it is even necessary.
Consider the doctor who softens the truth to ease a dying patient’s fear. The friend who hides a surprise party. The freedom fighter who deceives a regime to protect others.
Psychologists call this prosocial lying—deception motivated by kindness, protection, or social harmony. In fact, studies show people prefer to be lied to in certain situations, especially when the truth would cause unnecessary harm.
Ethical philosophers wrestle with this dilemma. Is it better to lie and protect, or tell the truth and hurt? The answer often depends on context, intention, and consequence.
The Future of Lies: AI, Neuroethics, and Truth Engineering
As neuroscience and artificial intelligence evolve, we may soon face radical new questions about deception.
Will brain scans become advanced enough to detect lies reliably? Could we engineer honesty through brain stimulation or genetic editing? Could AI systems detect micro-signals of deception that humans miss? Should they?
The future of truth may not rest on human conscience alone. It may become technological, regulated, even commodified.
But until that day, the human mind will remain the ultimate battleground of honesty and deceit—a theatre where truth and fiction play out in equal measure.
The Mirror in the Mind
In the end, to lie is to be human. We do it out of fear, love, ambition, and pain. We do it to survive. To belong. To shape how others see us. But every lie, big or small, leaves a trace inside the mind.
It demands memory, emotional control, ethical negotiation. It shapes our character and reveals our values.
The psychology of deception is not about villains and saints. It is about the fragile, fascinating dance between truth and identity.
Because inside the mind of a liar is not just a story—but a struggle. A person wrestling with reality. A brain bending the world, hoping it won’t snap.
Psychotherapist Gillie Jenkinson in helping people who have left cults.
Shola Lee – BBC News
2 August 2025
For seven years of her twenties, Gillie Jenkinson was in a religious cult. She recalls being told what to eat, when to sleep and what clothes to wear.
“It was completely coercive, controlling,” she says, going on to add that the group operated from an “ordinary” looking terraced house.
She remembers giving all of her money to the group, believing it would go towards their mission of “saving the world”.
“None of that happened, we didn’t save anybody or do anything with it, but you’re sold a lie,” she explains.
After leaving the cult, she sought mental health support to help process her experiences but she was unable to find any trained therapist with experience in helping cult survivors.
In the end, she decided to train as a therapist herself and has now been practising for around 30 years, specialising in helping people who have left cults.
This led her to appear in the two-part BBC documentary Inside the Cult of the Jesus Army, which sees her work with people brought up in the now-defunct religious cult to recognise cult dynamics and identify the group’s impact on them.
The BBC revealed allegations of widespread child abuse in the group, which disbanded in 2019.
The Jesus Fellowship Community Trust, which has been winding up the group’s affairs, said it was sorry for “the severely detrimental impact” on people’s lives.
Speaking to the BBC, Jenkinson explains how to recognise a cult and why more support is needed for those who leave.
How do you spot a cult?
“It’s not always easy to identify a cult,” Jenkinson says, explaining that there isn’t one type of person that joins a cult, they don’t dress a certain way and they can operate from “ordinary” houses.
The Family Survival Trust (FST), a charity that offers support to those affected by cults, defines a cult as a system controlled by a charismatic and authoritarian leadership that is “rigidly bounded” and supported by a fixed set of beliefs. It involves brainwashing designed to isolate, control and exploit followers.
Cults do not have to be religious. Linguist Amanda Montell, author of Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism, explains people can “erect a cult around anything, as long as you can inject it with fear and an ‘us-versus-them’ mentality”.
Montell adds that these groups don’t even have to take place in person anymore and says they are becoming “easier” to find because of the internet, adding “so many cults do their recruiting online”.
While cults can be hard to spot, Jenkinson and Montell note some “red flags” people can look for:
One possible indicator Jenkinson highlights is “love bombing” – a manipulation tactic that sees abusers use affection and declarations of love as a way of gaining power and control.
Another common theme is promising “answers to life’s very complex problems”, like climate change or the meaning of existence, the psychotherapist adds.
Montell says the combination of mantras, buzzwords and nicknames for insiders and outsiders of the group, as well as language that elicits a strong reaction while encouraging us not to ask further questions, can be indicators.
The linguist adds that certain texts being “off-limits” in the group can also be a warning sign.
The most “extreme” trait of a cult for Montell is a “high barrier to exit”, meaning group members being made to feel they might lose their identity or friendships, or fear retaliation, if they leave the group.
What can you do if you think you’re in a cult?
Jenkinson encourages people to listen to their “gut feeling” if they think something is wrong, to listen to critical voices and to investigate the group online. “It might save you years of pain,” the psychotherapist says.
Jenkinson also strongly discourages relatives from giving a group money because it likely won’t go to their loved one. However, she encourages family and friends to keep lines of communication open and to ask “genuine, critical thinking questions”.
However, Jenkinson says greater support and understanding is needed for people who have left cults, explaining: “it needs destigmatising because people need help when they come out”.
She adds that there should be provision within the NHS to offer specialist counselling for those leaving cults.
A spokesperson for the Departmentof Health and Social Care says as part of its 10-year health plan it “will increase access to talking therapies to support patients”.
Jenkinson adds that changes to the law are “desperately” needed to protect those in cults. Currently in England and Wales, coercive control is illegal in intimate or family relationships. However, Jenkinson says this needs to be extended to include the coercive control that occurs in groups like cults.
A spokesperson for the Ministry of Justice says: “Cult leaders can already be prosecuted for a number of offences including fraud, false imprisonment or harassment.”
Details of organisations offering information and support with sexual abuse or child abuse are available at the BBC’s Action Line.
When someone dies who you had a complicated relationship with, you may experience confusing and mixed emotions. There are many different ways that this scenario can play out, but the fact is that everyone dies, even people you didn’t like or had conflict with. And when you have mixed feelings about someone in life, you will continue to have mixed feelings about them in death.
People talk all the time about losing someone they deeply loved and cared for. As for grieving someone you had negative feelings towards, people don’t talk as much about that. The reasons why you may have had a difficult relationship are endless. Maybe they were mean or hurtful; perhaps they were violent or abusive; they could have been toxic or emotionally manipulative; maybe they betrayed you or someone you love.
We get it, it feels weird to sort through feelings about the death of someone you didn’t always like and it can feel even weirder to talk about it. So, today we’re going to talk about some of the circumstances that are unique to grieving someone you didn’t like. Then we’re going to answer some of the questions that come up in those situations and talk about how to cope.
You’re not sure if what you’re feeling is grief.
If we understand grief as a natural reaction to loss, you may be thinking that it isn’t a “loss” that this person isn’t in your world anymore. You might think if you didn’t like or want them in your life, it can’t be grief. This can leave you confused about how to categorize the feelings and isolated in discussing the emotions. Check out our definition of grief here for more.
You feel happy or relieved
Or, you’re at least not sad about it. In circumstances when your physical or emotional safety (or that of someone you love) was at risk because of the person who died, you may be feeling an immense sense of relief that your safety is no longer in jeopardy. At the same time, you may also be feeling some guilt that you’re relieved or happy or not sad. Like we said, it’s complicated. Luckily we have a whole post on feeling relief in grief
Your feelings of relief are in conflict with other people’s feelings of sadness
Sometimes you have a bad or complicated relationship with someone, but other people in your life don’t. After that person dies, you may be left to sort through complicated negative feelings, while others work through more traditional grief feelings. This disconnect can leave you feeling isolated and alone, and also ill-equipped to support your grieving family and friends.
You thought your relationship with them might eventually get better.
This thought might have been conscious or it might have been subconscious. Either way, when someone dies who you didn’t like it isn’t uncommon to suddenly feel the weight of the reality that you know will never get an apology, have a chance to apologize, or have a chance for the relationship to change and improve. Even if those were things you never consciously wanted, knowing they are no longer even an option can be difficult.
Your grief isn’t validated by others.
If people in your life knew you didn’t get along with this person, that you had a strained relationship, or had a falling out, people may minimize the validity of your feelings. That is a little thing known as disenfranchised grief. You may still be having intense grief feelings, despite that bitter divorce, painful custody battle, or even history of abuse. People around you might be saying, what do you have to be upset about?!? You hated him and hadn’t talked to him for years!
Death doesn’t bring closure.
You may have imagined that all those complicated feelings would somehow get resolved once the person died or was completely out of your life. But there is a good chance the complicated emotions are still there, even though the person isn’t. You wouldn’t be the first or the last. The reality is the pain of a difficult relationship doesn’t die just because a person has died.
Remind yourself you have the right to grieve.
When someone is removed physically from our lives there is an impact, no matter how we felt about them. It changes the relationship, and it can impact our understanding of the past and the future. Even if the hole left in your life is a hole you believed you always wanted, that doesn’t change its emotional impact. You can deeply miss someone you had a really complicated relationship with, so give yourself permission. The human heart is funny that way.
Remember that it is okay to feel relief.
If you feel guilty that you’re relieved, happy, or not sad about a death, let’s think through the feelings. What you are relieved or happy about is that you are now safe and no longer fearful. This is different than being glad someone has died. If there were another possible way for you to feel safe, you would likely have wished that to be the outcome. For more on this, check out our post about relief.
For better or worse, relationships continue after someone dies.
If you had a good relationship with someone, that can often continue through good memories and carrying on their legacy. If you had a complicated relationship it often remains, well, complicated! You may have imagined a person’s death would make you feel better or resolve some of the feelings you were having. In some cases that’s true, but in some cases it isn’t. You may find you still need to carry on efforts to explore your own feelings about the person or find ways to forgive (keeping in mind that foregiveness is not about saying someone’s behavior was okay!). You can read more about forgiveness here.
Communicate about the entire relationship, the good and the bad.
The old saying “don’t speak ill of the dead” can, unfortunately, make people feel like they have to keep their mouths shut about the problems in a relationship after the person has died. We’re here to say, it’s okay to keep processing and talking about these issues if you need to, you may just want to choose your audience wisely. Depending on your situation, friends or family may not be the best people to support these types of conversations. If that is the case, a grief counselor or support group might be helpful. What isn’t helpful is avoiding, stuffing, or ignoring the complicated emotions and memories.
Realize you may be grieving the relationship you wished you had.
We all have ideas about what a mom or dad or friend or spouse or child is “supposed” to be. Unfortunately, what we want a relationship to be is not always what it is. Who we want a person to be is not always who they are. If you are struggling to understand your own complicated emotions about the death, consider that you may be feeling grief around not having had the [mom/dad/husband/wife/friend/child] you wanted or needed.
It is still possible to finish ‘business’.
When grieving someone you didn’t like, or with whom you had a complicated relationship, there can be a feeling that any “unfinished business” will now have to be left unfinished. It may not get finished in the way you imagined when that person was alive (if you were planning for a direct conversation, obviously that just isn’t going to happen). You can still find ways to say the things you wanted to say. That could be in the form of a journal, letter to the person who died, artistic expression, or with a therapist.
Consider all the ways the relationship has impacted you.
Though many of these may be negative and painful, you may also see ways you grew from the strains in the relationship. It may be in your own commitment to not being like that person or it may be in your growth and avoidance of other negative or toxic relationships. It may even be in your ability to find forgiveness or empathy in an impossible situation. Whatever it is, take some time to appreciate yourself and your own growth. This is not being grateful to the person or for the hurt or problems they caused, but taking the time to give yourself credit for the growth that can come from adversity.
When you have a difficult, or worse, relationship with your dad, Father’s Day can be fraught with anxiety and pain. Unpleasant memories, tension, and varying levels of estrangement take center stage, meanwhile, your friends are celebrating their dads with heartfelt cards and gifts.
Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, is widely promoted and hard to ignore.
A TV ad asks, “Where will you celebrate Father’s Day?” It showcases a beaming adult son enjoying a meal with his cardigan-graced Dad at the best restaurant in town. People think, “great idea.” However, you instantly recall the time your father yelled at you at a restaurant when you were 12. You remember it well. Your father doesn’t.
An online ad pops up, featuring a woman your age, smiling up at her graying dad and presenting him with a gift. Meanwhile, your own father barely communicates with you and on the rare phone call, he sounds like he’s been drinking, can’t remember the name of your dog, and only talks about how much he and his third wife are enjoying their beach condo. You aren’t planning on sending him a gift because he doesn’t call you on your birthday.
Father’s Day can be rife with pain, despite the media demand for unconditional celebration. But there is hope. If you would like a healthier experience this Father’s Day:
Step 1: Accept your father’s negatives
If you have mixed memories of your father, you may feel pressure (both internally and externally) to brush aside the pain and focus on the positive. But you don’t need to abandon past hurts. Past hurts actually feel more “authentic” to you than those vague, “happy” memories you’re trying hard to resuscitate. Instead of hiding the pain, allow yourself some space to simply not enjoy.
Step 2: Gain perspective on your father’s own experience
After validating the negatives, think about whether your father did his best with what he had available, and place the downsides into the context of his own upbringing and life. Typically, we view our fathers as authorities. Yet, every father is really just another person like the rest of us. The late psychoanalyst and social worker Selma Fraiberg promoted the concept of intergenerational transmission of trauma, in which the hurts of parents continue on into their children. While you can feel hurt for the way these ghosts can be passed down, take into context that the struggle you may have had with your father is the same struggle he may have had with his own parents.
Step 3: Acknowledge your father’s positives
While you should acknowledge and accept your father’s negatives, an important step to a healthier Father’s Day is to also find the positives, no matter how small. Did you learn an important lesson from your father? Can you recall any warm feelings you shared with your dad? Did he have a particular talent you admire? One important developmental task of adulthood is to live with appreciation and disappointment side by side; bring light to your bag of mixed emotions. Give yourself some credit and permit yourself to feel both good and bad at the same time.
Step 4: Do something, maybe even give your dad a call
Father’s Day is well set up for new beginnings. Take the opportunity to share something loving with your father, without internally feeling the need to do injustice to your own complex feelings.
If your father lives nearby, perhaps send him an email to invite him for coffee. If you’re states away, set up a time to talk with him via phone or Facetime. Or, if it feels comfortable, pick up the phone and just call on Father’s Day. If you do connect, say hello, and share whatever you are feeling.
Reflect on the negatives, recognize that you are entitled to your feelings, and allow yourself the space to feel a range of feelings. You need not experience only the positive. Allow yourself to connect, say hello, and just accept whatever you are feeling.
Your father may not respond at all. He may not return your email or answer your call. This may simply be a matter of bad timing but he may be actively stating he does not want to speak. Fathers have their own uncomfortable feelings that arise poignantly on Father’s Day.
What feels right for you
Some people choose to acknowledge their feelings with a mailed letter, a card, or an email. Some may reflect privately. While the holiday is called Father’s Day, it is also a day for the child. Do what feels right for you.
When it helps, share any past hurts with your friends and family in the service of allowing yourself to be open to positivity. If you spend time with your father on this special day, you may actually enjoy it.
For adult children, this is also a time to reflect on what fathering means to us, how we hope to take in these memories, and pass down our memories with our own understanding to those we parent or mentor.
While you may not be truly “celebrating” your father, coming to terms with your relationship is an opportunity.
Shadow work is not just a practice of psychology. And definitely not about fixing what’s broken. It’s about discovering what’s been buried—your emotions, wounds, truths, and power.
Rooted in Jungian psychology and practiced for centuries through shamanic, spiritual, and mystical traditions, shadow work is the practice of meeting your unconscious self with honesty and compassion. It’s the journey of bringing light to what has long been kept in the dark.
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung
What Is Shadow Work?
Shadow work is the practice of uncovering and integrating the unconscious parts of yourself—your fears, desires, shame, and hidden strengths. These “shadow parts” are often formed in childhood and buried by the ego to protect your identity. However, they don’t disappear. They project themselves onto others, influence your reactions, and can create patterns that keep you stuck.
To do shadow work is to observe your triggers, trace them to their roots, and reclaim what you’ve disowned. This practice is both psychological and spiritual—a return to wholeness.
Yes, you can do shadow work by yourself, and no, it’s not just for therapists or spiritual gurus. It’s for anyone ready to know themselves, fully.
Next, we’ll explore beginner-friendly methods for accepting your shadow side.
1. Observe Your Triggers
Anything that causes an intense emotional reaction—anger, shame, jealousy, discomfort—could be a window into your shadow. Pay close attention to the situations, people, or themes that spark a disproportionate emotional response.
“If you hate a person, you hate something in them that is part of yourself.” — Hermann Hesse
For example, if the sex scenes in the movies and TV shows you watch embarrass or anger you, this may indicate repressed sexuality, or if the scenes of violence and war make you happy inside, this can be interpreted as suppressed anger/hatred.
“Usually we punish the things that remind us of the parts of ourselves that we disagree with and that we are most uncomfortable with, and we often see these parts of ourselves that we deny.” -Robert A Johnson
Use these moments as data points. Ask yourself:What exactly triggered me? What emotion came up? What memory does this remind me of?
2. Take Note of Your Inner Conversations
Throughout your life, you have exhibited some behaviors, said words that you cannot understand, and then wondered why you acted or spoke this way. An archetype/sub-personality/fragment within you has taken all control.
With these parts; We can communicate through internal dialogue and/or active imagination, or simply by writing on paper or computer. In this way, we integrate these parts of us into our conscious mind.
Writing is one of the simplest shadow works exercises. You don’t need to be a writer—just be honest. Here are some powerful shadow work journal prompts to start with:
What emotions am I most uncomfortable feeling, and why?
What qualities in others do I secretly admire or resent?
When do I feel fake or performative?
What am I afraid people might find out about me?
Who triggers me the most—and what do they reflect back to me?
Even five minutes a day can spark surprising clarity.
3. Practice Inner Dialogue
Another beginner-friendly approach is to have a silent (or written) dialogue with a part of you that feels hidden or disruptive. This is a key practice in Jungian shadow work and can be done through meditation or imagination.
Sit in a quiet space. Close your eyes. Ask: Who wants to speak? What do you need me to hear? Then listen—without judgment.
Sometimes the part that speaks is younger, angry, fearful, or wild. All parts have something to teach.
Remember, filling our conscious mind with perfect/ideal thoughts is characteristic of most Western philosophies/theologies, and these philosophies generally do not face the shadows and dark side of the world. A person cannot become enlightened simply by imagining the light, but rather by making the darkness conscious.
4. Accept, Don’t Fix
A crucial shift: shadow work is not about fixing your shadow self—it’s about reintegrating it. The goal is not perfection or constant positivity. The goal is wholeness, honesty, and reclaiming power.
5. Creativity as Expression
Art, dance, poetry, music, and movement are excellent ways to engage with your unconscious mind. Don’t censor yourself. Let your emotions guide your creations.
Creative practices bring your shadow into form and make it easier to observe and integrate. This is also where our Pentacle Necklace comes in—a symbol of harmony between the five elements, including your inner chaos.
6. Use the World as a Mirror
What annoys you about others? What behaviours do you judge harshly? These projections are often mirrors of your disowned qualities.
Not all triggers are projections—but many are. Learning to discern which shadows are yours, which are others’, and which are shared is part of the work.
Try asking:
Is this reaction about me or them?
What part of me feels threatened?
What would I never allow myself to be—and why?
This is powerful reflection work. And with time, it leads to radical self-awareness.
It is also a possibility that two people may reflect similar qualities. Or, qualities that complement each other may be mirrored mutually. For example, one person tends to be overly self-sacrificing and another tends to control others. From the collision of these two, one may be the controlled and the other the controlling, where opposite but complementary qualities may be mutually projected onto each other. Examples can be multiplied. A person may be projecting jealousy, anger, greed, and all the qualities we can think of to the other side and the world.
7. Shadow Work Therapy (Optional But Powerful)
You don’t have to do shadow work alone. In fact, many people benefit from working with Jungian therapists or trauma-informed coaches.
Professional guidance can help you move through blockages faster and more safely—especially if you’re dealing with trauma, grief, or anxiety.
8. Work With Archetypes & Mythic Energy
Symbols like Lilith, Nyx, and the Crow aren’t just myth—they’re psychological mirrors. Working with dark feminine archetypes can be deeply supportive in shadow work.
There is a scene in the pilot episode of HBO’s American black comedy-drama series Succession where Kendall Roy locks himself in the bathroom, no longer able to hold in his rage and resentment towards his father. Billionaire media mogul, Logan Roy, is portrayed as a narcissistic, emotionally abusive, power-hungry father who has inflicted a lifetime of neglect and abuse on his children.
After his mini-breakdown, Kendall composes himself, returns to the dining room, and puts on a brave face with the rest of the family to celebrate his father’s birthday. There is an uncomfortable sense that family life is an artificial performance. Not too far from the surface are the pain, resentment and anger of decades of dysfunctional family life.
Trauma specialist, Caroline Spring, wrote that the “happy family” is a myth for many, a performed cultural ideal that masks a myriad of unpalatable truths. This can also be true in death, as people negotiate the loss of family members they blatantly disliked during life, or who caused them nothing but suffering and pain.
It’s difficult to say how many funerals are characterised by singing the praises of people many of those present either openly or secretly resented or cannot forgive.
It’s not necessarily that the deceased wasn’t loved or that their loss doesn’t still sting. Grieving dysfunctional, toxic or hurtful relationships creates a different level of complexity.
In Succession, when the tyrannical Logan Roy finally dies his children’s sadness is palpable. However, family therapists have argued that such grief can be complicated by the fact that the bereaved are often mourning a relationship they wish they’d had with the deceased or are angry and remorseful about the fact that things were never repaired.
There is also the possibility for internal conflict when cultural or familial pressure to celebrate the deceased collides with an internal need to acknowledge the fact that they were mean, abusive, and neglectful.
Artificial forgiveness
Bereavement psychologists suggest that forgiving the deceased is important to preserving mental health. After all, as Nelson Mandela suggested, resentment “is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die”.
In simple terms, psychologist Robert Enright defined forgiveness as rooting out negative thoughts, feelings and behaviours towards someone, and finding a way to develop positive thoughts, feelings and behaviours about them too. He suggested such forgiveness is highly relevant in cases where the offending party is dead.
In his book, Dying Matters, palliative care physician, Ira Byock, argued that suffering can be eased through deathbed rituals designed to foster forgiveness. As part of a “good death”, he encourages people to engage in five steps, where they say:
Forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. And Goodbye.
The idea being that such forgiveness rituals help “wipe the slate clean”.
However, it has been argued that this sort of forgiveness is artificial.
Grief psychologist, Lorraine Hedtke, believes such practices pressure people into what she calls an “artificial ending”. Sometimes people end up silencing suffering or minimising and denying pain in service to a cultural pressure to accelerate forgiveness. She also questions whether forgiveness is really something we can conjure up in “once and forever” rituals.
Death is not the end
Of course, death is not the end of our psychological relationship with the deceased. Hedtke offers the example of an abusive, angry, tyrannical father, much like Succession’s Logan Roy, whose six sons had few kind words to say about him on his death.
Neither the man’s death, nor his funeral, she wrote, were the time or place any of his children felt able to make false declarations of forgiveness. At the funeral they had few kind words or fond memories and could not recall appreciative connections with their father. Only in the years that followed did they begin to construct a more forgiving version of him.
Eventually the brothers were able to retain their original reality – that he was indeed a mean and vindictive father – and also begin to appreciate and understand him in a different light too. This was sparked by a random conversation about a long-forgotten fishing trip, prompting them to remember a positive quality that had previously gone unnoticed.
Even after death, Hedtke argues, relationships change and evolve. In some cases, perhaps this sort of change is only possible after someone’s death.
Studies have also suggested that people’s capacity to forgive the dead may be connected to psychological factors like attachment. Psychologists Elizabeth Gassin and Gregory Lengel found that people with high attachment avoidance were less likely to reach forgiveness for someone they were close to who had died. This makes sense because attachment avoidance is a tendency to repress or shut away our feelings for the other. It is difficult to forgive someone if we are unable to acknowledge or face our feelings about them.
So with all this in mind, it might be hard for the Roy children to forgive Logan straight away. Theirs was a fraught and complicated relationship. Their journey to forgiveness and through grief might take time but that is normal.
Finally getting out of a relationship with a narcissist doesn’t mean you just walk away and everything resets — if only.
The way you moved, spoke, and reacted around them wasn’t random; it was survival. And even when they’re no longer in your life, some of those habits stick around for a long time to come. These mannerisms aren’t flaws, just reminders of what you had to do to get through it. If any of these feel familiar, know that you’re not alone. Keep working through your experience and finding ways to process them so that you can truly move forward without the baggage of their abuse.
1. They say sorry way too much.
Apologising becomes second nature after constantly being made to feel like everything was their fault. Even when they haven’t done anything wrong, “sorry” just slips out, like a reflex. It’s easier to apologise first than to risk upsetting someone, even if there’s no reason to think they’re actually mad. It can be for little things, like taking up space in a room or accidentally bumping into someone. The need to smooth things over before there’s even a problem is just something they learned along the way. Over time, they start realising they don’t need to apologise for simply existing.
2. They hesitate before saying what they really think.
When every opinion was once picked apart or twisted against them, speaking up starts to feel risky. They might pause before answering simple questions, trying to figure out the “right” thing to say. Even harmless opinions like what they want for dinner can make them feel like they’re putting themselves in the line of fire. It’s not that they don’t have thoughts or preferences. It’s just that, for a long time, sharing them came with consequences. Eventually, they start realising that safe people won’t punish them for having a voice.
3. They over-explain everything.
When someone’s spent years being gaslit, they get used to having to “prove” their reality. They might give way more detail than necessary when telling a story, just to make sure they won’t be misunderstood. Even when no one is doubting them, they feel the need to justify every little thing. It’s the same with making decisions, explaining why they chose something before anyone even questions them. They’re just used to having to defend themselves, even when there’s no fight to be had. Eventually, they learn that they don’t owe anyone a 10-minute breakdown of why they picked one option over another.
4. They struggle to make decisions on their own.
When every choice was once criticised, even small decisions can feel overwhelming. They might freeze up over what movie to watch or what restaurant to pick, worrying they’ll “get it wrong.” The fear of making a mistake, even when it doesn’t matter, sticks around for a while. It’s not because they don’t care or are trying to be difficult. It’s just that they got used to someone making them second-guess every move. Learning to trust their own choices again takes time, but it happens.
5. They downplay their own feelings.
After years of being told they were “too sensitive” or “overreacting,” they start believing it. They might brush off things that actually hurt, convincing themselves it wasn’t that bad. Even when something really bothers them, their first instinct is to push it aside. They might say things like, “I don’t want to be dramatic, but…” or “It’s not a big deal.” It’s just what happens when someone’s been made to feel like their emotions are an inconvenience. Eventually, they start unlearning that and realising their feelings are valid.
6. They get tense when someone’s mood suddenly changes.
People who’ve been around narcissists know how quickly things can flip. One second everything’s fine, the next, there’s tension in the air, and they have no idea why. So they get really good at noticing tiny shifts in body language, tone, or energy. It’s like an automatic response — they pick up on the smallest signs of frustration and start preparing for what’s coming. Even when no one’s actually upset, their brain still sends out a warning. Over time, they realise that not every sigh or pause means danger, but that instinct doesn’t fade overnight.
7. They can’t accept compliments to save their lives.
When someone’s been picked apart for long enough, nice words can feel… weird. Compliments don’t quite register, or they feel the need to downplay them. “Oh, this outfit? I just threw it on,” or “I got lucky, that’s all.” It’s easier to brush off praise than accept it. It’s not that they don’t appreciate it; they just don’t know how to believe it. Being treated with kindness feels foreign after being criticised for so long. Eventually, they start letting the good words sink in instead of automatically deflecting them.
8. They’re super tuned in to other people’s emotions.
Living with a narcissist means always being on high alert for their mood swings. Over time, survivors develop a hypersensitivity to other people’s emotions. They can walk into a room and immediately sense if something feels “off.” It’s not just empathy — it’s survival. They learned to read the energy of a situation to avoid conflict. But constantly scanning for signs of trouble is exhausting, and they eventually start realising they don’t have to do that with safe people.
9. They pause before answering simple questions.
Even casual conversations can feel like a test. When you’ve been with someone who twisted your words, you learn to tread carefully. Even answering “How was your day?” might come with a pause while they run through all the possible ways their response could be taken. They’re not hiding anything; they’re just used to walking on eggshells. Eventually, they get to a place where they don’t feel the need to filter themselves so much. But at first, even harmless questions can feel loaded.
10. They hate asking for help.
When someone’s been made to feel like a burden, asking for help feels impossible. They might convince themselves they should be able to handle everything alone. Even when they’re struggling, the idea of leaning on someone feels unnatural. It’s not that they don’t need support; they just don’t want to be an inconvenience. Over time, they start learning that healthy relationships involve give and take. But breaking the habit of doing everything solo takes time.
11. They get nervous when things are going too well.
For survivors, peace can feel unfamiliar. When they’re in a stable, loving relationship or things in life are actually going smoothly, a little voice in their head whispers, “This won’t last.” They’re used to good moments being followed by chaos. Even when they want to relax and enjoy things, part of them stays on guard. They seem like they don’t trust happiness because they were trained to expect the rug to be pulled out from under them. Eventually, they realise that real, healthy love doesn’t come with hidden conditions.
12. They sometimes don’t trust their own judgement.
When someone’s spent years being told they’re wrong, they start believing it. Even after leaving, they struggle to trust their instincts. “Am I overreacting?” “Am I the problem?” “What if I’m being unfair?” Making choices without second-guessing themselves feels foreign. But the more they rebuild their confidence, the more they start recognising that they were never the issue. Learning to trust themselves again is part of the healing process.
13. They feel guilty for setting boundaries.
For so long, saying “no” or putting themselves first meant backlash. Narcissists don’t respect boundaries, so survivors learned that standing up for themselves just made things worse. Even after leaving, setting limits can make them feel selfish or anxious. They might feel like they need to over-explain why they can’t do something or worry that people will be upset with them. But after a while, they start realising that boundaries aren’t mean, they’re necessary — and the right people will respect them.
14. They’re still figuring out what safe love looks like
After being conditioned to accept toxic love, healthy relationships can feel confusing. They might not trust kindness at first or feel uneasy when there’s no drama. It takes time to rewire their brain to see love as something safe, not something they have to earn. But little by little, they start recognising what real love feels like. And when they do, they realise they never have to settle for anything less again.
Isnt it bad enough, that after you get the strength and courage to leave your narcissist, and after youve already lost your self-worth, your youth, your time, lots of your money, your sanity, and whatever else you lost because of being in a narcissistic relationship, now you have to lose your kids too? It just isnt fair; and it isnt right.
Youve watched your narcissist manage to convince joint friends and other community members and sometimes even family members that you are the crazy one and he/she is the victim, by his/her masterful manipulation strategies. People are hoodwinked and dont even realize it. Your good name is slandered. You feel alone, humiliated, discouraged, disheartened, and vengeful.
Now, your kids are subjected to the smear campaign against you and you find it is actually working. It is enough to make you either curl up in the fetal position and give up, or rage with anger like an erupting volcano. Of course, to do either would confirm the reality of the premise of the smear campaign that you are deranged and crazy.
And if you talk about the situation, others will not understand and will simply conclude on their own that the other party must be right you are psychotic. Its a no win situation. Say nothing and your name is tarnished. Say anything and your craziness is confirmed.
And if you talk to your own kids about the situation you are drawing them into the middle of your relationship problems with their other parent which is a big no no.
Does going no contact include going no contact with your own children as well?
When you seek help from a therapist, you often find that he/she is just as much at a loss as you, because those in the counseling community are often not well-equipped to handle such relationship dynamics. No one is, really.
The courts rarely help and often exacerbate the problem. And if your children are not minors, then court involvement is pointless. Besides that, you cant legally force anyone to see the truth. Denial is denial and brainwashing is not easily countered.
So, what is a parent to do under these circumstances? Here are some helpful suggestions:
Do not be defensive. I know this is hard, but it is essential for your own peace of mind. Remember, during your entire relationship with the narcissist you were always put on the defense. Dont let him/her continue to keep you on that course, even through your children. You dont have to defend yourself. You dont have to be a perfect human being, always showing others why you are worthy.
In practical terms, the way you do this is to change course whenever you have the feeling of defensiveness. If you feel defensive, then dont talk, dont try to get anyone else to see the truth. Go for a walk. Write in your journal. Call a friend and vent. Do something else until the feeling is no longer pressing you.
Be strong. Do not give into the feeling of hopelessness and defeat. You have no leverage if you give up and give in to your weakest self. Your children are best served by feeling your strength and by not seeing you being manipulated by the other parent. You are best served by remaining steadfast, stable, strong, and resolute.
Do not give in to the need for approval from your children. Hustling for the approval of any person is not healthy or wise, even if the person happens to be your offspring. Once you need your children to approve of you then you have given your power away to them (and by proxy, to the other parent.)In order to do this you must keep validating yourself and getting external validation from your safe relationships and from your spiritual resources.
Realize you are not alone. Other parents struggle too. While, being among company with other parents is not a solution to the problem, it is important for keeping a proper perspective. What I mean by this, is that other parents, even those not in narcissistic relationships, also struggle with relationship (and other) problems with their children.
Many parents have children that reject them or turn to drugs or unhealthy relationships despite their parents desires. Adult children often choose a lifestyle or belief system that is against everything their parents stood for while raising them. There will be no good end to trying to force your children to see things your way.
Many parents also struggle with other difficult parenting conditions, such as having their children face some personal problem where the parent was unable to help such as a health problem, bullying or criminal or other out of their control situation.
Keep a healthy perspective.As mentioned above, it is important to keep the proper perspective. Having a balanced perspective is necessary for keeping your sanity. The best way to do this is to not react on your feelings, but rather to think things through with balance and maturity.
In essence, don’t horriblize the situation, remain calm, and be a problem solver. Reacting with strong emotions will not help you, thinking things through unemotionally will help you in the end. Look at the big picture, and resist the urge to join, “The War of the Roses” with your ex.
State your position once and then move on. It is fair for you to state your position on a matter to your children in order to shed light on the truth. Having your own voice is important for recovery from narcissistic abuse. That being said dont be a broken record; state your position once, and move on.
Practice Acceptance. Dont dwell on the negativity of it all. Narcissists do nothing but create a vortex of drama that leads your life into a cesspool. Drag yourself out of the cesspool and land on solid ground, where peace and sunshine abound. Dont allow the narcissist to steal your joy, even if he/she manages to manipulate your children into his/her web of deception and ugliness.
Why families need to pay more attention….. by Peg Streep
Perhaps, given the biblical story of Cain and Abel, it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise but in interviews for my forthcoming book on verbal abuse, I was struck by how many respondents reported being verbally abused by a sibling in their families of origin. In some cases, the abuse was an echo of parental verbal abuse, and the abuser was joining in both to keep him or herself safe from becoming the target and to establish loyalty to the abusive parent. This is especially true in a family where a mother or father is high in narcissistic traits, hypercritical, controlling, or highly combative. In these families, siblings are frequently pitted against each other. That was true for “Joe,” now 42:
“My father was a tyrant; there was a right way of doing things, which was his way, and a wrong way, and woe to the son who didn’t do it his way. My mother was his accomplice, using shaming to get us to stay in line, and praising the merits of ‘sibling rivalry.’ My brother is five years older and he bullied me to show my dad how strong he was. Believe it or not, I thought this was how all brothers were until I started to notice that my friends had brothers who were actually friends. I have as little to do with my parents and brother as possible and I have worked hard at making sure my own boys are never compared to each other or encouraged to belittle each other.”
This story focuses on a son’s experience but it happens between sisters as well, especially when a mother or father plays favourites or uses the achievements of one daughter to belittle or browbeat another, and the favoured daughter becomes verbally abusive to her sibling as well.
How the term “sibling rivalry” blinds us to sibling abuse
KEY POINTS
The term “sibling rivalry” can mislead parents, leading them to ignore sibling abuse.
Healthy competition requires balance of power between siblings. Parents can contribute by not playing favorites or using competion to criticize.
Physical aggression is strikingly common between and among siblings. Surprisingly, it can teach valuable skills when it is mutual or dyadic.
Sibling abuse is about power. It is always one-sided.
Source: Obie Fernandez/Unsplash
Perhaps, given the biblical story of Cain and Abel, it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise but in interviews for my forthcoming book on verbal abuse, I was struck by how many respondents reported being verbally abused by a sibling in their families of origin. In some cases, the abuse was an echo of parental verbal abuse, and the abuser was joining in both to keep him or herself safe from becoming the target and to establish loyalty to the abusive parent. This is especially true in a family where a mother or father is high in narcissistic traits, hypercritical, controlling, or highly combative. In these families, siblings are frequently pitted against each other. That was true for “Joe,” now 42:
“My father was a tyrant; there was a right way of doing things, which was his way, and a wrong way, and woe to the son who didn’t do it his way. My mother was his accomplice, using shaming to get us to stay in line, and praising the merits of ‘sibling rivalry.’ My brother is five years older and he bullied me to show my dad how strong he was. Believe it or not, I thought this was how all brothers were until I started to notice that my friends had brothers who were actually friends. I have as little to do with my parents and brother as possible and I have worked hard at making sure my own boys are never compared to each other or encouraged to belittle each other.”
This story focuses on a son’s experience but it happens between sisters as well, especially when a mother or father plays favorites or uses the achievements of one daughter to belittle or browbeat another, and the favored daughter becomes verbally abusive to her sibling as well.
How the term “sibling rivalry” blinds us to sibling abuse
But, sometimes, a sibling’s verbal abuse isn’t an echo but an act of individual aggression, and it’s sad that parents don’t always recognize it as such and write it off as a function of “sibling rivalry” — a supposedly a “normal” occurrence in families with more than one child.
In his 2012 book Sibling Aggression, Jonathan Caspi noted that this normalization isn’t just limited to laypeople but to professionals as well. He writes that despite a growing body of research which shows otherwise, “the mistaken belief that sibling violence is not harmful normalizes it. Statements such as ‘My brother beat on me and I am fine’ and ‘Boys will be boys’ minimize honest appraisals of possible effects and validate its continued use.” He notes that practitioners too grew up with the same social context—thinking that sibling aggression is normal—and so their judgments about family dynamics are often clouded by their own internalized views. He surmises that this point of view limits research as well. He uses sibling aggression as an umbrella term which encompasses four categories which he arranges in order of effect, going from most mild to severe; in order, they are competition,conflict,violence, and abuse.
Understanding competition between siblings
Healthy competition can motivate and challenge siblings to develop their skills and talents. Famous siblings in sports — the Williams sisters or the Manning brothers — immediately come to mind. But when the aim of the competition is to highlight one sibling’s flaws or inadequacies, competition moves from being inspirational to being hurtful and damaging. (Think about the Jackson Five, their siblings, and their abusive father, for example.) Caspi notes that most of the time, one sibling’s advanced skills don’t damage another’s self-esteem.
Surveying conflict in sibling relationships
Every family experiences some amount of conflict and, as Caspi notes, constructive sibling conflict promotes social and emotional competence, teaches problem-solving, and helps a child hone his or her emotional regulation. My own thought is that, for this to happen, parents have to have modeled and implemented cooperative ways of dealing with disagreements and conflict. In households where verbal abuse is the default, this isn’t going to happen.
But even in a household where constructive behaviour has been modelled, it’s clear that constant negative conflict between siblings can alter the dynamics of a family as well as the sibling relationship.
Is roughhousing violence between siblings?
Caspi notes that the terms sibling violence and sibling abuse are often used interchangeably because they both entail physical and verbal acts that intend to do harm. However, he distinguishes violence from abuse. He writes: “Violence reflects mutual or bidirectional aggression in which both siblings aim to harm each other in a concert of perceived egalitarian relationship.” Sibling physical violence — hitting, biting, pinching, kicking — is astonishingly prevalent; some researchers’ estimates are as high as 96 percent of all families while others put it at 80 percent. But, as Caspi points out, physical violence is very difficult to distinguish from animated roughhousing or even rough-and-tumble play so these numbers may be greatly inflated because of parental confusion about what’s “normal” between siblings and what’s not. Most importantly, research supports Caspi’s contention that this kind of mutual sibling violence doesn’t damage self-esteem.
Some readers will share my initial confusion, reading that this “even-steven” and mutual mano a mano type of violence isn’t necessarily harmful or damaging, but that is what research shows. Let’s consider rough-and-tumble play, for example. Joseph L. Flanders, Vanessa Leo, and their colleagues cite research showing that physically aggressive behaviors are observable as early as 18 months but begin to taper off in most children by age two or three; their study looked at father-child rough-and-tumble play (RTP) to determine whether a father’s behavior influenced a higher incidence of continuing physical aggression in children. It’s widely recognized that fathers play with children differently than mothers do, regardless of gender, and that kids prefer Dad’s style of play over Mom’s.
KEY POINTS
The term “sibling rivalry” can mislead parents, leading them to ignore sibling abuse.
Healthy competition requires balance of power between siblings. Parents can contribute by not playing favorites or using competion to criticize.
Physical aggression is strikingly common between and among siblings. Surprisingly, it can teach valuable skills when it is mutual or dyadic.
Sibling abuse is about power. It is always one-sided.
Source: Obie Fernandez/Unsplash
Perhaps, given the biblical story of Cain and Abel, it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise but in interviews for my forthcoming book on verbal abuse, I was struck by how many respondents reported being verbally abused by a sibling in their families of origin. In some cases, the abuse was an echo of parental verbal abuse, and the abuser was joining in both to keep him or herself safe from becoming the target and to establish loyalty to the abusive parent. This is especially true in a family where a mother or father is high in narcissistic traits, hypercritical, controlling, or highly combative. In these families, siblings are frequently pitted against each other. That was true for “Joe,” now 42:
“My father was a tyrant; there was a right way of doing things, which was his way, and a wrong way, and woe to the son who didn’t do it his way. My mother was his accomplice, using shaming to get us to stay in line, and praising the merits of ‘sibling rivalry.’ My brother is five years older and he bullied me to show my dad how strong he was. Believe it or not, I thought this was how all brothers were until I started to notice that my friends had brothers who were actually friends. I have as little to do with my parents and brother as possible and I have worked hard at making sure my own boys are never compared to each other or encouraged to belittle each other.”
This story focuses on a son’s experience but it happens between sisters as well, especially when a mother or father plays favorites or uses the achievements of one daughter to belittle or browbeat another, and the favored daughter becomes verbally abusive to her sibling as well.
How the term “sibling rivalry” blinds us to sibling abuse
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But, sometimes, a sibling’s verbal abuse isn’t an echo but an act of individual aggression, and it’s sad that parents don’t always recognize it as such and write it off as a function of “sibling rivalry” — a supposedly a “normal” occurrence in families with more than one child.
In his 2012 book Sibling Aggression, Jonathan Caspi noted that this normalization isn’t just limited to laypeople but to professionals as well. He writes that despite a growing body of research which shows otherwise, “the mistaken belief that sibling violence is not harmful normalizes it. Statements such as ‘My brother beat on me and I am fine’ and ‘Boys will be boys’ minimize honest appraisals of possible effects and validate its continued use.” He notes that practitioners too grew up with the same social context—thinking that sibling aggression is normal—and so their judgments about family dynamics are often clouded by their own internalized views. He surmises that this point of view limits research as well. He uses sibling aggression as an umbrella term which encompasses four categories which he arranges in order of effect, going from most mild to severe; in order, they are competition,conflict,violence, and abuse.
Understanding competition between siblings
Healthy competition can motivate and challenge siblings to develop their skills and talents. Famous siblings in sports — the Williams sisters or the Manning brothers — immediately come to mind. But when the aim of the competition is to highlight one sibling’s flaws or inadequacies, competition moves from being inspirational to being hurtful and damaging. (Think about the Jackson Five, their siblings, and their abusive father, for example.) Caspi notes that most of the time, one sibling’s advanced skills don’t damage another’s self-esteem.
Surveying conflict in sibling relationships
Every family experiences some amount of conflict and, as Caspi notes, constructive sibling conflict promotes social and emotional competence, teaches problem-solving, and helps a child hone his or her emotional regulation. My own thought is that, for this to happen, parents have to have modeled and implemented cooperative ways of dealing with disagreements and conflict. In households where verbal abuse is the default, this isn’t going to happen.
But even in a household where constructive behavior has been modeled, it’s clear that constant negative conflict between siblings can alter the dynamics of a family as well as the sibling relationship.
Is roughhousing violence between siblings?
Caspi notes that the terms sibling violence and sibling abuse are often used interchangeably because they both entail physical and verbal acts that intend to do harm. However, he distinguishes violence from abuse. He writes: “Violence reflects mutual or bidirectional aggression in which both siblings aim to harm each other in a concert of perceived egalitarian relationship.” Sibling physical violence — hitting, biting, pinching, kicking — is astonishingly prevalent; some researchers’ estimates are as high as 96 percent of all families while others put it at 80 percent. But, as Caspi points out, physical violence is very difficult to distinguish from animated roughhousing or even rough-and-tumble play so these numbers may be greatly inflated because of parental confusion about what’s “normal” between siblings and what’s not. Most importantly, research supports Caspi’s contention that this kind of mutual sibling violence doesn’t damage self-esteem.
Some readers will share my initial confusion, reading that this “even-steven” and mutual mano a mano type of violence isn’t necessarily harmful or damaging, but that is what research shows. Let’s consider rough-and-tumble play, for example. Joseph L. Flanders, Vanessa Leo, and their colleagues cite research showing that physically aggressive behaviors are observable as early as 18 months but begin to taper off in most children by age two or three; their study looked at father-child rough-and-tumble play (RTP) to determine whether a father’s behavior influenced a higher incidence of continuing physical aggression in children. It’s widely recognized that fathers play with children differently than mothers do, regardless of gender, and that kids prefer Dad’s style of play over Mom’s.
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RTP is characterized by aggressive behaviours such as “wrestling, grappling, jumping, and chasing in a play context.” Fathers often socialize both sons and daughters through this kind of physical play which is associated positively with emotional regulation, self-control, reading emotional cues, and even sensitivity to others. These are important skills for self-development and permit children to negotiate social rules in peer settings with more ease. What Flanders and his team found was that when fathers controlled and set limits during RTP, their children demonstrated lower levels of physical aggression in daily life; in contrast, the children of fathers who didn’t set limits and shucked off dominance were more likely to be more physically aggressive in later life.
So mutual or bi-directional physical aggression actually has its benefits, as counterintuitive as that may seem.
When it’s not mutual, it’s abuse
The distinction that Caspi makes between violence and abuse largely rests on power; if he considers the first to be “bidirectional” or “mutual,” then sibling abuse is “unidirectional hostility where one sibling seeks to overpower the other via a reign of terror and intimidation, and reflects an asymmetrical power arrangement.” The abusive sibling not only wants to humiliate and render the other powerless but he or she is intent on aggrandizing him or herself through the act. Caspi notes four kinds of sibling abuse—physical, sexual, psychological or verbal, and relational—but verbal abuse is by far the most prevalent. Among siblings, verbal abuse includes insults, name-calling, and threats to property. Again, because siblings do chivy for attention in the household, it may be difficult for the parents to distinguish between chivying, an expression of frustration, and verbal abuse which is about dominance.
Beyond sibling rivalry
It’s clear that we need to retire the term. If you’re an adult who experienced sibling abuse but have rationalized or downplayed it, now’s the time to stop and reflect on its effects. Speak out. You may get pushback because families guard their narratives fiercely but it’s time you stepped out of the role assigned you, whether that’s the “sensitive one” or “the wuss.”
If you’re a parent of siblings, pay close attention to not just your behaviours but theirs. Step in if necessary.
Taking The Helm 