After six plus years of trauma recovery more realizations are forthcoming. 🙂

For many years, I carried the deep pain of being distanced from my family of origin after disclosing the sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of one of my brothers. The rejection I felt was profound, and I grieved not only the loss of my family but also the dream that we could acknowledge and heal together. Over time, though, I came to see an unexpected gift in this experience: the freedom to heal, grow, and become the person I always wanted to be. I have come to see there are blessings of being the black sheep and or scapegoat.

I know this happens in many families. Mine is not unique. In families that struggle with unresolved pain and silence, those who acknowledge the truth can become outsiders. At first, this felt like abandonment. But with time, I realized that distancing myself from an environment that resisted open curious discussion allowed me to begin healing in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if I had stayed. The distance gave me space to see things more clearly and to prioritize my well-being.

Many families operate under the belief that if a problem is ignored long enough, it will disappear. This is not out of malice but often stems from fear and deeply ingrained survival patterns. I have come to understand that my family of origin carries intergenerational shame, much of it unspoken and unconscious. The unwillingness to be vulnerable or curious reflects this burden, one I don’t think they even realize they are carrying.

Experiencing childhood trauma made me different. I used to hate that but now I embrace it. One of the ways I’ve been different – I see the value of talking things through. I’m willing to have the difficult conversations with like-minded individuals. I’d rather resolve issues than point fingers or assign blame (the straw and rafter principle). Conversations and relationship repair is about just that – repair and resolution. It is not about winning the argument. I have learned to take responsibility for my part in misunderstandings, even when others are unwilling or unable to do the same. I can’t make people be open to different perspectives. I can’t make people care. I can’t make people “see.” After learning about the far-reaching tentacles of shame, I now see shame has a lot to do with behaviour and choices – making it difficult to admit one’s own weaknesses and failures, even though every human being has them. My family is just like any other; we are not special or different in this regard.

Doing my childhood trauma healing has required a large measure of humility. I have had to acknowledge where I was wounded, where I needed to grow, and where I needed to extend grace—to myself and to others. True healing isn’t about proving I was right or waiting for others to change; it’s about doing the internal work necessary to free myself from the patterns of traumatic pain that once defined me. This process has been humbling, but it has also been deeply empowering.

Separation gave me the opportunity to reflect in ways I hadn’t before. I learned to trust my emotions, recognize patterns in my own behaviour, and break free from cycles of self-doubt. Without the external pressure to conform to my family’s way of coping, I embraced my own perspective and deepened my emotional intelligence. I’ve learned to name what I’ve experienced and name what I see and it’s necessary for mental and emotional clarity.

Choosing to heal meant approaching life differently than some generations had. It meant refusing to ignore painful realities for the sake of appearances. It meant committing to self-awareness and emotional honesty, even when it was uncomfortable, even painful. By doing this, I’ve been able to cultivate relationships based on openness and mutual respect—ones that feel authentic and fulfilling rather than strained by unspoken truths. This is part of the joy and confidence I feel now.

When a family relies on avoidance to maintain harmony, those who seek acknowledgment can feel out of place. For a long time, I struggled with self-doubt, wondering if I was wrong to want honesty and accountability and validation. But through my healing, I’ve learned that trusting my instincts and valuing my truth are not flaws—they are strengths. Setting boundaries that honour my well-being has deepened my self-trust and authenticity. My personal Bible study has further strengthened this, ensuring that my healing aligns with my spiritual values and bringing me confidence, inner peace, and safety.

While the pain of separation was real, it also built in me a resilience I might not have otherwise discovered. I learned that I could survive loss, navigate difficult emotions, and still find joy and connection. My journey has shown me that healing is not about waiting for others to change but about stepping into my own sense of self and creating a life aligned with my personal and spiritual values.

One of the greatest gifts of all this awareness and growth has been the realization that family is not solely defined by blood. (Psalm 27:10*) I have found deep, meaningful connections with people who see and accept me fully. These relationships, built on mutual respect and understanding, have shown me how it feels to be truly supported and loved unconditionally.

If you have found yourself in a similar situation, know that you are not alone. It is natural to long for connection and understanding from those we were raised with, but healing does not require their validation. You learn to validate yourself. Your journey is your own, and it holds infinite possibilities beyond the past. You were not meant to shrink yourself to fit into a space that does not allow for your truth. You were meant to grow, heal, and let your light shine, not to hide your gifts under a basket.

I invite you to see your experience as the family scapegoat, not as a one of rejection but as an opportunity for profound healing and transformation. And if you need support along the way, know that there are others who see you, hear you, and walk this path alongside you.

This blog highlights the blessings that come from being the scapegoat—freedom, clarity, healing, and deeper connections.

*Until recently I have resisted religious language as I know that many childhood trauma survivors have had religion and misquoted/misapplied scripture used against them. Please know that I understand. In this blog, the sharing of divine quotes is in ways that support, encourage, and validate, not to shame or judge.