Frequently Asked Questions

By Amanda Sillars, BPsycSc

Families caught in coercive or alienating dynamics are often misunderstood. A child’s rejection of a safe, loving parent or other family member can look sudden or inexplicable, yet it usually reflects a predictable psychological process. These FAQs clarify what is happening, why it happens, and how recovery is possible.

The information here is educational and grounded in current research and practice across attachment theory, trauma and developmental psychology, learning and conditioning theory (classical, operant, and observational learning), personality and psychopathology, cognitive and social psychology, family systems theory, coercive-control psychology, and affective neuroscience. It applies to all family structures and recognises that harmful behaviours are not gendered. Men and women alike may engage in coercive or alienating behaviours, and either may be victimised. Behaviour, not gender, is the focus. Evidence-based descriptors include narcissistic, borderline, paranoid, and histrionic personality traits, high anxiety and over-control, cognitive distortions, externalisation of responsibility, impaired grief responses, and entrenched desires for control or vengeance; these traits and patterns are risk factors, not labels used for diagnosis on this page.

My work uses the framework Survival-Based Rejection: Parent–Child Trauma, Coerced Attachment and Alienation (PCTCAA) to describe how a child’s attachment, cognition, and sense of safety are reorganised under coercive influence. What is commonly called parental alienation names the outcome (rejection), not the process. The PCTCAA lens maps the progression from sustained manipulation and fear, through the child’s conditioned adaptations — compliance, confusion, and emotional numbing — to the deactivation of their attachment system. Over time, survival replaces trust, and rejection emerges as self-protection. With safety and the right therapeutic supports, these patterns can be reorganised, allowing attachment and identity to begin healing.

Mechanistically, children learn through conditioning and modelling. Anxiety and aversion are paired with the targeted parent (classical conditioning), alignment is rewarded and independent contact punished (operant conditioning), and the child internalises the coercive adult’s stance by observation and repetition (observational learning).

In practice, the pattern is sustained by identifiable methods. These include denigration and vilification of the targeted parent, interference with contact, erasure from the child’s daily life, information gatekeeping, interrogation after visits, emotional manipulation, encouraging defiance, forced loyalty displays, enmeshed alliances, using the child as messenger or spy, financial and entitlement framing, and the instrumental use of outside systems or false allegations to isolate and control. Each tactic narrows the child’s emotional world and deepens dependency on the coercive adult.

Each question below explores a core component of these dynamics — from the traits and methods used by coercive parents, to the psychological conditioning that drives a child’s rejection, to the evidence-based pathways for recovery. The purpose is to bring clarity and language to what is often misinterpreted, so that families and professionals can recognise the mechanisms of harm and respond with precision and compassion.

Coercive and alienating behaviours arise from patterns of personality traits, emotional needs, and cognitive distortions rather than from gender or circumstance. These patterns are found in mothers, fathers, and other caregivers who seek psychological control instead of healthy connection.

While each case is unique, coercive parents frequently show a cluster of recurring traits:

• Control and domination: a persistent need to manage the child’s emotions, choices, or relationships.
• Fear of abandonment and insecurity: using the child to regulate their own anxiety or bolster self-worth.
• Emotional dependency: requiring constant loyalty or validation from the child.
• Manipulativeness: maintaining authority through guilt, shame, or fear.
• Lack of empathy or reciprocity: difficulty perceiving the child’s or the other parent’s perspective.
• Entitlement and moral superiority: believing their actions are justified “for the child’s protection.”
• Distorted thinking: projection, black-and-white moral framing, and externalisation of blame.
• Fragile self-esteem and low frustration tolerance: interpreting a child’s independence as rejection.
   

These traits exist on a continuum. In some, they are situational responses to stress; in others, they form enduring personality styles associated with narcissistic, borderline, paranoid, or histrionic traits. The intent here is not diagnosis but function: how the behaviour operates to coerce, punish, or control rather than nurture.

From these traits flow consistent behaviours, including:

• Rewriting events to depict the other parent as unsafe or unworthy.
• Undermining authority or decision-making.
• Performing fear or sadness to elicit sympathy from the child.
• Rewarding rejection and punishing affection.
• Recruiting professionals or relatives into their narrative through selective disclosure.
• Exploiting social tropes — such as “protective parenting” — to conceal control.
• Filing false reports, obstructing communication, or creating administrative barriers.
   

The unifying motive is psychological possession — ensuring the child’s thoughts, emotions, and loyalties remain bound to them. Over time, the child learns that safety depends on alignment and that love must be conditional.

Recognising these traits and behaviours enables professionals to distinguish ordinary conflict from coercive family systems that rewire attachment itself. The critical measure is not what the parent intends, but the impact on the child: loss of autonomy, loss of truth, and loss of safe connection.

Children exposed to coercive or alienating behaviours do not simply copy what they see; they are conditioned through repeated emotional and psychological experiences that rewire their attachment system. Over time, these mechanisms distort perception, create fear, and replace genuine autonomy with compliance.

The process draws on well-understood psychological principles of conditioning, learning, and attachment regulation.

• Classical conditioning – pairing safety and threat
  The child learns, often unconsciously, to associate one parent with anxiety and the other with relief. Subtle cues — a sigh, a tone of voice, a sudden withdrawal of warmth — become signals of danger. The coercive parent repeatedly pairs discomfort or tension with references to the targeted parent until fear or guilt arises automatically.
• Operant conditioning – reward and punishment
  Affection, approval, and attention are granted when the child aligns and withdrawn when they show curiosity or warmth toward the other parent. Compliance becomes a survival strategy. Over time, the child’s behaviour is shaped by these consistent reinforcements — much like any learned habit maintained by intermittent reward.
• Observational learning – modelling emotion and belief
  Children internalise the coercive parent’s attitudes, moral framing, and emotional responses. When they observe distress, outrage, or victimhood, they learn to mirror it. This form of learning is powerful because it is relational: love and loyalty become linked to imitation.
• Cognitive distortion and moral coercion
  The coercive parent reshapes how the child interprets events. Neutral or loving actions from the targeted parent are reframed as selfish or threatening. Through repetition and emotional urgency, these distortions solidify into moral convictions — the child no longer feels manipulated; they believe they are defending what is right.
• Attachment deactivation and survival response
  To resolve the unbearable conflict of loving both parents, the child unconsciously suppresses affection for the targeted one. This “attachment deactivation” is a trauma adaptation: by turning off longing, the child protects themselves from fear, guilt, and potential punishment. It is this process that gives rise to what we describe as Survival-Based Rejection.
• Emotional contagion and threat amplification
  Children are highly sensitive to non-verbal emotional signals. A parent’s micro-expressions of disgust, tension, or panic around certain topics communicate danger without words. The child’s nervous system mirrors these cues, reinforcing vigilance and avoidance.

Together, these mechanisms create a closed feedback loop: the more the child complies, the safer they feel; the safer they feel, the more convinced they become of their distorted beliefs. Love is replaced by loyalty, curiosity by fear.

Understanding these psychological processes is essential for anyone assessing such cases. What appears as defiance or preference is often the child’s adaptive response to coercive conditioning — an act of emotional survival, not rebellion.

Children exposed to coercive or alienating environments live in a state of chronic emotional conflict. Their attachment system, stress response, and sense of identity adapt to survive rather than to grow. Over time, these adaptations can shape how they think, feel, and relate to others well into adulthood.

Emotional and neurological impact
Repeated exposure to fear, guilt, and loyalty pressure activates the child’s stress system — particularly the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex — in ways similar to other forms of relational trauma. This leads to heightened vigilance, emotional volatility, and difficulty calming after stress. The brain learns to anticipate threat rather than connection.

Cognitive and moral distortion
When one parent consistently frames the other as unsafe, selfish, or unworthy, the child develops false moral schemas. They interpret affection as manipulation and distance as virtue. Over time, this erodes critical thinking and moral reasoning, replacing it with black-and-white loyalty. The child begins to see rejection as a moral duty rather than a loss.

Identity and autonomy
Coercive dynamics suppress individuality. The child learns that safety depends on conformity, not authenticity. They may echo the coercive parent’s opinions, suppress their own preferences, or adopt a false self to maintain peace. This is sometimes referred to as identity foreclosure — where development stalls because the child cannot safely explore who they are.

Attachment and relationship patterns
To protect themselves, children deactivate attachment to the targeted parent and hyperactivate it toward the coercive one. This imbalance leads to anxiety in relationships, fear of abandonment, or emotional numbing. As adults, they may either avoid closeness altogether or repeat controlling or submissive patterns learned in childhood.

Emotional regulation and self-worth
A child trained to regulate another person’s emotions — often through compliance, caretaking, or silence — learns that their worth depends on keeping others calm. This creates chronic self-blame and difficulty recognising personal needs. Emotional independence feels dangerous; self-sacrifice feels safe.

Long-term consequences
Without intervention, these adaptations can manifest as:

• Anxiety and depression
• Emotional dysregulation or numbness
• People-pleasing or controlling tendencies
• Guilt or shame when expressing autonomy
• Difficulty trusting others or setting boundaries
• Ambivalence in future parenting roles
   

These are trauma-based adaptations, not personality flaws. With the right conditions — psychological safety, trauma-informed therapy, and stable relationships — the brain and attachment system can reorganise. Recovery involves helping the child (or adult survivor) separate genuine memories from implanted beliefs, rebuild trust in safe attachment, and learn that love and safety can coexist.

The signs are often subtle at first, then suddenly impossible to miss. A child caught in coercive or alienating dynamics begins to show changes in language, behaviour, and emotion that don’t match their history with the rejected parent. To those who don’t understand the pattern, it can look like preference, teenage mood, or natural separation, but it isn’t. Together these changes reveal a child under pressure.

1. Behavioural shifts

• Sudden withdrawal or hostility toward a parent or their family.
• Refusing contact or communication after a period of warmth.
• Speech or reasoning that sounds rehearsed or borrowed — using moral or psychological words well beyond their age (“She’s manipulative,” “He’s abusive”) without context or genuine understanding.
• Fierce loyalty to one parent, even when that loyalty costs them joy or comfort.
• Disgust, tension, or visible unease when reminded of the rejected parent.
• Some children show the stress in their bodies — headaches, stomach pain, sudden fatigue, or zoning out before visits or phone calls. Their nervous system learns to anticipate distress before contact even occurs.
   

2. Emotional and relational changes

• Loss of ordinary ambivalence: one parent becomes all good, the other all bad.
• Guilt or fear when expressing affection for the rejected parent.
• Mirroring the coercive parent’s mood or stress as if it were their own.
• Emotional flatness when speaking about good memories with the rejected parent.
• Defensive anger when asked gentle questions about what changed.
• Social withdrawal is common. Many children become cautious around friends or teachers, afraid of saying something that might be repeated back to the coercive parent.
   

3. Cognitive and verbal signs

• Rewriting shared experiences to fit the coercive parent’s story.
• Denying obvious facts or past closeness, even when evidence exists.
• Black-and-white moral judgments that leave no room for nuance.
• Statements like “I never want to see them again,” said with certainty but no emotional resolution.
• Gaslighting behaviours — the child learns to doubt and challenge the rejected parent’s reality, mirroring the coercive parent’s habit of revising history and recasting the targeted parent as unsafe or untrustworthy.
• Concentration often suffers — they may appear distracted, forgetful, or emotionally absent at school because so much energy is spent managing internal tension.
   

4. Family and social patterns

• Rejecting grandparents, siblings, or relatives linked to the targeted parent.
• Avoiding birthdays or holidays that include both parents.
• Taking sides in adult conflicts, echoing the coercive parent’s grievances.
• Forming tight alliances with adults who support the coercive parent’s view.
• Sometimes rejecting school friends because their parents are connected to, or friendly with, the targeted parent.
• Some children withdraw into online spaces — gaming, scrolling social media, or immersing themselves in fantasy worlds — as a way of numbing anxiety or escaping divided loyalties. Others channel their distress into achievement, overperforming in sport or academics as a form of control.
• These learned social behaviours can also play out in their peer relationships. Some children become overly compliant or vulnerable to bullying; others mimic the coercive parent’s dominance and become the bully.
• For some, cognitive distortions spill into friendships — blaming peers for things that go wrong, as they do the targeted parent.
   

5. Internal experience (what the child feels but rarely says)
Children in these environments often:

• Feel as if they’re being watched or monitored, even when the coercive parent isn’t present.
• Stay hyper-attuned to what’s happening around them — reading tone, facial expression, or atmosphere to anticipate threat.
• React automatically, without thinking, to perceived danger — freezing, appeasing, or changing their story mid-sentence.
• Carry guilt for wanting contact or affection from the rejected parent.
• Feel responsible for keeping the coercive parent emotionally stable.
• Experience confusion about their own memories, feelings, and beliefs.
• Experience moral distress — a deep confusion between what feels right and what they’ve been told is right. Loving both parents feels like betrayal; rejecting one feels like survival.
   

These patterns are not defiance or preference. They are adaptive survival responses in a family system that punishes independence and rewards compliance. Recognising them early allows for trauma-informed support focused on rebuilding safety, truth, and secure attachment.

Not all children who reject a parent do so out of hate — but some eventually come to believe they do. This is one of the hardest truths to accept: not every child recovers that buried love.

For many, what looks like hatred is actually a defensive survival response — an attempt to feel safe in an unsafe emotional environment. When a child is exposed to coercive behaviour, they learn that affection for the rejected parent comes at a cost: the withdrawal of love, guilt, fear, or the coercive parent’s emotional collapse. To survive, they suppress the feelings that trigger that danger. Love doesn’t disappear; it becomes buried beneath fear, confusion, and loyalty conflict.

This process is known as attachment deactivation — the shutting down of the attachment system to avoid emotional pain. The child learns to silence the part of themselves that longs for connection, because longing feels unsafe.

Over time, gaslighting, story revision, and emotional conditioning reshape the child’s memories and beliefs. The internal conflict becomes unbearable, so they create distance by turning rejection into moral certainty. Hatred becomes a shield — easier to hold than grief.

For some children, particularly where coercion continues over many years, these beliefs harden into identity. The rejection becomes part of who they think they are. Yet even then, that hatred is constructed, not inherent. It’s learned, rehearsed, and reinforced through fear and moral distortion.

Many adult children later describe that they never truly stopped loving the parent they rejected — they just couldn’t feel it anymore. Others say they felt trapped, watched, or emotionally blackmailed, and that rejecting the parent felt like the only way to stop the anxiety.

So yes, some children may end up hating their parent or family member. But that hate is the product of coercive influence and emotional survival, not the child’s natural state. With time, safety, and truth, buried love can sometimes resurface — not always, but often enough to keep believing that reconnection, in some form, is possible.

It’s natural to want your child to know the truth. When someone you love has been turned against you, silence can feel like surrender. But in survival-based rejection, how and when truth is shared matters as much as what is said.

A child living under coercive influence isn’t acting from logic — they’re acting from fear, conditioning, and attachment survival. Their sense of safety is tied to the coercive parent’s approval. This is what we describe as coerced attachment — a trauma bond that fuses love and fear. The child becomes emotionally responsible for keeping that parent stable and may even take on their battles as their own. They defend them, speak for them, and protect them, often without realising it.

In those moments, the child is carrying an emotional burden far too heavy for their age. They are living in a loyalty bind — trying to keep one parent emotionally safe while cutting off part of themselves that still loves the other. This constant tension fuels guilt, exhaustion, and an aching confusion they cannot name.

When that’s the case, anything that contradicts the coercive parent’s story feels dangerous. If the targeted parent corrects or explains too directly, the child’s nervous system reads it as threat, not truth. They will defend the coercive parent as if defending themselves — because psychologically, they are. The child may also begin to gaslight in return — denying events that happened, reinterpreting facts, or accusing the targeted parent of the very behaviours modelled by the coercive one. It’s a learned defence, not conscious cruelty.

This doesn’t mean silence forever. It means that truth must be offered when safety, not emotion, leads the moment. In this work, the rule is simple: strike when the iron is cold. Wait until the temperature of fear and defensiveness has cooled enough for your words to reach them. When the child is calm and regulated, they can think; when they’re flooded, they can only protect.

Some guiding principles:

• Lead with love, not defence. Speak to your child’s feelings, not the falsehoods. “I can see you’re upset” reaches further than “That’s not true.”
• Avoid matching tone. When they repeat harsh, rehearsed words, stay calm and steady. Reactivity confirms the coercive story.
• Anchor them in memory. Gently remind them of real moments that contradict distortion. “You used to love building that cubby with me” can quietly awaken emotional truth.
• Don’t denigrate the other parent. Even subtle criticism triggers guilt and strengthens the loyalty bind. Show your child that love and safety can coexist without control.
• Time matters. Children caught in coerced attachment can’t process truths that threaten their security. Wait for small openings — moments of curiosity, warmth, or calm — and share truth in pieces, not in floods.
• Resist overexplaining. The need to prove your innocence is understandable, but too much information overwhelms. Facts rarely penetrate when fear is in control; emotional safety must come first.
   

If your child asks direct questions, keep your answers simple, grounded, and kind. Focus on love and reassurance, not blame or justification. For example:

“There are things that happened between the adults that were painful and confusing, but my love for you has never changed.”

When a child defends the coercive parent, they are not rejecting you — they’re protecting the person they believe keeps them safe. Healing begins when truth feels safe enough to hold. Reconnection rarely happens through one conversation. It unfolds gradually as the child feels safe enough to question what they were taught. Consistency, calm, and love — repeated quietly over time — are what rebuild trust when words alone can’t.

Reconnection often begins long before the first reply. When a child is caught in coercive dynamics, silence or distance is rarely indifference — it’s self-protection. They are managing loyalty, fear, and guilt inside a family environment that punishes curiosity or affection toward you.

For some parents, the silence is complete. For others, contact is intermittent — a message one week, withdrawal the next; a brief moment of warmth followed by hostility or silence. This inconsistency reflects the child’s inner conflict: they miss you, but closeness triggers fear and guilt. Pulling close then retreating is their way of testing safety.

The hardest truth is that you can’t control contact, but you can preserve connection. Your calm, predictable presence is what the child’s nervous system will remember when the fog of fear begins to clear.

In coercive systems, love has been turned into currency. The child has learned that affection can trigger loss or conflict. When you reach out, they measure not just what you say, but how it feels. Every message, photo, or gesture either strengthens their sense of safety or confirms the fear that loving you will cost them something.

Some principles to guide you through silence or intermittent contact:

• Stay predictable. Whether or not they reply, keep your contact consistent and light. Small gestures — a message on a birthday, a photo of the family pet, a “thinking of you” note — say, I’m still here, and that hasn’t changed.
• Be emotionally regulated. Children sense tone through every word. Avoid emotional pleas or long explanations. Warmth and steadiness communicate safety.
• Adapt to the rhythm. When contact fluctuates, match their pace. If they reach out, be present but measured. If they pull away, step back without punishment or withdrawal. You’re teaching them that love doesn’t disappear with distance.
• Stay visible but not intrusive. Presence without pressure builds trust. Quietly existing in their periphery — through mutual friends, extended family, or small, non-confrontational reminders — helps anchor your role as a safe base.
• Repetition builds trust. The message they absorb isn’t from one text or one meeting — it’s from your long-term steadiness. Each time you respond calmly, you undo a fragment of the coercive narrative.
• Symbolic anchors matter. Familiar cues — a scent, a song, a shared photo, or revisiting a place that once felt safe — can quietly awaken positive memories even when direct contact isn’t possible.
• Don’t interpret regression as failure. Renewed hostility or silence often means renewed pressure from the coercive parent, not a loss of progress. Stay steady; let them see that your relationship isn’t fragile.
• Hold space for your own grief. Living in this limbo is a form of ambiguous loss — grieving a child who is still alive but unreachable. Acknowledging that grief helps you stay compassionate without collapsing.
• Care for yourself. Find spaces where you can speak freely and be understood. You need emotional scaffolding to keep showing up with strength and dignity.
   

Your calm doesn’t just protect you — it teaches your child’s nervous system what safety feels like. You’re modelling the security they’ve forgotten.

Many children later say that what helped them most was knowing the targeted parent never stopped caring — even when they couldn’t respond. Whether contact is constant, sporadic, or silent, your consistency is the antidote to their chaos.

Reconnection doesn’t begin with a reply; it begins with your endurance. Each calm message, each quiet act of love, is a signal through the noise. When fear loosens its grip, those signals are what lead them home.

No. But you may need to rethink what “not giving up” means.

When a child has been coerced into rejecting a safe, loving parent or family member, silence isn’t a decision made in freedom, it’s a survival response. The child may genuinely believe that keeping their distance keeps them, or someone else, safe. What looks like indifference is often fear and conditioning, dressed up as certainty.

You can’t force a reply, and chasing contact can sometimes increase the child's anxiety and make fear louder. Some children are or feel watched 24/7. Connection doesn’t depend on constant communication — it’s built through consistency, safety, and presence over time. Even when they don’t respond, most children still register your gestures. Your messages, letters, or small reminders of care are felt, even if they can’t be acknowledged.

There’s also no shame in stepping back to recoup. Stepping back to recoup or self-care is not giving up. It’s what allows you to heal, regulate, and stay grounded for the long term. Parents and family members living with chronic rejection are surviving trauma too. Resting, seeking support, or taking time to stabilise doesn’t mean you’ve walked away — it means you’re protecting your own safety and strength for when reconnection becomes possible.

Sometimes, for personal or legal safety, ceasing contact temporarily is the only option. That’s not abandonment; it’s survival. What matters most is that you remain emotionally available — ready, steady, and safe — when the time is right.

You’re not alone in this. Many parents, grandparents, and siblings experience the same unbearable silence. It’s why we created Free Space

Trust your instincts, but act with care. Early intervention is crucial, yet how you respond can determine whether your child feels protected or pressured. Coercive and alienating behaviours often begin subtly — emotional gatekeeping, inflated safety concerns, or manipulation disguised as protection — and can escalate quickly, especially before legal or financial proceedings.

The first step is to document, not react. Calm, factual notes are far more effective than emotional exchanges. Reactivity, however understandable, can be misused to support the coercive parent’s narrative.

Steps to take early:

• Create a clear timeline. Timelines are essential. They expose patterns — cancelled visits, shifts in tone, or sudden claims about the child’s wellbeing. Escalation often occurs before court dates or child support assessments, particularly when financial incentives are tied to custody.
• Document communication carefully. Keep factual, time-stamped records of correspondence. If communication becomes unmanageable or manipulative, consider using structured communication tools or apps — not as a fix, but as a boundary. These platforms can reduce emotional tone, keep messages child-focused, and provide an accurate record of interactions.
• Use communication boundaries. Decide what topics you’ll engage in and what you won’t. Keep messages brief, neutral, and focused on logistics or child wellbeing. Never respond to provocation or personal criticism. Every interaction either reinforces safety or reactivates fear — choose safety.
• Recognise when tactics escalate. Expect behaviours to intensify when control feels threatened — for instance, before hearings or professional involvement. False allegations, last-minute health claims, or emotional performances are common.
• Seek trauma- and attachment-informed guidance. Not all professionals understand coercive dynamics or survival-based rejection. Work with those trained in coercive control, attachment theory, and trauma psychology.
• Engage legal support early. Find representation experienced in psychological abuse and child manipulation, who can help you structure evidence and communication effectively.
• Prioritise emotional and physical safety. Boundaries are protective, not punitive. If communication becomes harmful, it’s acceptable to limit or temporarily cease contact — safety always comes first.
   

And most importantly: don’t let others dismiss or minimise your concerns.
You may hear, “It’s just adolescence,” or “When they’re 18, they’ll come around.” These statements invalidate the real psychological harm of coercive influence. Age alone does not heal trauma or dismantle learned fear. Trust what you’re observing and seek qualified help early.

If you’re unsure how to navigate your situation or need emotional support or professional guidance, you can book a private consultation with me here.

Yes. Coercive and alienating dynamics rarely affect just one relationship. When a child is taught to fear, reject, or mistrust a safe parent, the ripple often extends to the wider family network such as grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, step-parents, and siblings.

These patterns emerge because coercive parents often control the narrative of belonging. They define who is “safe” and who is “dangerous,” creating an emotional boundary around themselves that excludes anyone perceived as loyal to the targeted parent. This process divides not only households but entire family systems.

Grandparents and extended family

Grandparents and other relatives are frequently cut off with little warning. Sometimes they are told the child no longer wants contact; other times, communication simply fades. For many, it feels like a second loss, grieving a grandchild or niece or nephew who is alive but unreachable. They may also experience confusion and shame when others don’t understand or minimise what’s happened.

Extended family often notice signs first: cancelled visits, sudden hostility, or a child parroting adult language. Their attempts to intervene, however well-intentioned, can be used to justify further restriction. The coercive parent often frames them as “meddling” or “disrespectful of boundaries,” weaponising normal family concern as a threat.

Sibling division

Siblings can become deeply divided under coercive influence. One may be favoured, idealised, or seen as the “protector,” while another is scapegoated or rejected. This splitting creates hierarchy and surveillance within the family — siblings monitoring each other’s loyalty and regulating each other’s behaviour.

Children may echo coercive language, blame one another for tension, or even police contact with the rejected parent or relatives. Some withdraw entirely, numbing through gaming or academic overachievement; others externalise through defiance, bullying, or blaming peers, mirroring the coercive dynamics they’ve internalised.

The emotional cost

Alienation from family members isn’t only relational — it’s developmental. It deprives the child of multi-generational love, history, and identity. The loss of these connections leaves a vacuum where belonging should be.

For family members, the grief is often disenfranchised — the world doesn’t see the loss, so there’s no space to mourn it. Many find themselves silenced or told, “Give it time,” or “They’ll come back when they’re older.”  Maturity alone doesn’t correct psychological conditioning. When fear and distortion have shaped a child’s reality for years, age may bring independence, but not necessarily clarity or emotional safety.

What to do

If you’re a grandparent, sibling, or other relative experiencing alienation:

• Maintain a calm, open line of communication where possible — small gestures, cards, or messages without guilt or pressure.
• Avoid criticising the coercive parent; it feeds fear and withdrawal.
• Keep photographs, letters, and memories safe. These may one day help the child rebuild their sense of continuity.
• Protect your own emotional wellbeing. The silence and uncertainty are a form of ambiguous loss. It’s not weakness to seek support.
   

You can learn strategies and find solidarity with others experiencing family exclusion in Free Space.

Recovery is possible — but not guaranteed, and never the same for everyone.

Prolonged coercion and alienation change how the brain and body process safety, trust, and love. Some children and adults heal deeply once they experience stability, truth, and trauma-informed care. Others live with enduring psychological injuries, including PTSD, Complex PTSD, depression, suicidality, eating disorders, or traits consistent with Cluster B personality presentations such as chronic mistrust, emotional volatility, and relational fear. These are not signs of weakness; they are the outcomes of long-term psychological injury and unmet developmental need.

Healing exists on a spectrum:

• Some rebuild secure relationships and a stable sense of self.
• Others stabilise but carry ongoing symptoms that require long-term management and professional support.
• Some do not recover fully and live with permanent emotional or relational impairment — a reflection of the depth and duration of trauma, not of character.
   

Recovery depends on timing, the presence of safety, and the severity of psychological harm. When coercive influence is removed and genuine safety restored, the nervous system can begin to reorganise. With trauma-informed therapy, attachment repair, psychoeducation, and safe relational experiences, many regain the capacity for trust and connection.

It’s not one-size-fits-all. Some families rebuild slowly; others never reunify but still find healing through understanding and acceptance. The goal of recovery is not perfection — it’s to restore truth, coherence, and peace.

If you’d like to explore options, what recovery or reconnection could look like in your situation, or if you’re worried about your child’s or your own mental health, you can book a private consultation with me here.