The Guilt That Won’t Let Go

Lately, I’ve been feeling it again — that old, familiar guilt that whispers I’m the problem child. It’s the same voice that tells me everything somehow circles back to me: what my mother did, what my father said or did in response, the arguments, the screaming, the blame. All of it… landing in my lap.

It made me feel like my very presence was bothersome, like I took up too much space simply by existing. I didn’t know how to escape that, so I did what I could: I stayed. I chose the abuse. I tried to make it less about me. I hid my scars from my dad. I went to bed early or pulled away when he came home, hoping she wouldn’t see the love he gave me.

Back then, I didn’t see him as part of the problem. But he was. He stayed out late, then walked in and covered me in affection, and every time, it made her jealous. The nights they fought about me always led to worse treatment the next day. I noticed the pattern. I braced for it. And deep down, I knew no one was coming to save me.

Silence Was My Survival

Every day in that house reinforced the message: I’m the problem child. I cried too loud, so I taught myself to cry in silence. I still remember the look on her face when she realized she’d taken even that from me. It gave her a twisted kind of pleasure to know my screams would no longer interrupt her power.

I became quiet, submissive, not because I was weak, but because I was trying to survive. I thought if I stayed quiet, maybe I’d suffer less. But the message stayed the same: I’m the problem.

As I got older, the problems still seemed to revolve around me. And I began to understand why — she didn’t love me. That was the problem between her and my father. Instead of protecting me, he left me there, again and again. He saw what was happening and still chose to walk away, leaving me in the cycle that was breaking me.

So I carried it all, her rage, his silence, their mess. I made room for it, thinking maybe that was my role. And the feeling of being the problem child followed me into my relationship with my sister.

The Jealousy That Shattered My World

Over time, I felt her turning on me too. Then one day, she said it outright — she was jealous of me. Jealous that my father showed me more affection. That he loved me more. To this day, I wish I could unhear that. My world shook in seconds.

She was the one person I thought saw it clearly. The one person I believed understood. But instead of standing with me, she resented me for something I never asked for, for something I couldn’t control. Once again, I felt like the problem. And I asked myself, over and over: What is so wrong with me? What is it about me that makes people jealous… cruel?

I didn’t fight back. I wasn’t loud. I wasn’t a troublemaker. I never hit anyone. I kept my head down. I tried to be good. So what was it?

The Truth I’m Learning to Believe

The only answer I see now is this: there was never anything wrong with me. They just needed someone to blame. All the fears they refused to face had to land somewhere, and I was the easiest one to carry them. Even now, my adult self knows I wasn’t the problem, but my inner child still struggles. She keeps a room full of evidence, each memory proving her case. And she visits it often, convinced it holds the truth.

The challenge is that I can’t erase those memories, because they’re real. What I can do is remind her that those moments don’t define her. That room, no matter how full it feels, is not the whole story.

This is the tension I carry, learning to hold both truths at once: Yes, it happened. Yes, it hurt. And no, it was never your fault.

Choosing Myself

Some days, the inner child wins. Other days, the adult me gently whispers, You were never the problem. You were just a child looking for love. Therapy is helping me understand and care for her differently. She deserves healing. And so do I.

Walking away from my family wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. It was to stop hurting myself. But even now, distance can make me feel like the problem again — because no one else left. No one else broke the pattern. When I did, the silence felt like confirmation.

But here’s the truth I hold onto: I didn’t break the family. I broke the cycle. I didn’t leave to punish anyone. I left to finally protect me.

Your Turn to Speak to Her/Him

If any part of my story feels like yours, I want to give you something that helped me — A Letter to the You Who Needed Love.

It’s a free guide to help you speak directly to your younger self, the one who’s still holding the weight of being “the problem.” It’s not about perfect words — it’s about showing up with honesty, compassion, and love.

You can download it, take your time, and let it be your way of telling her/him the truth s/he’s been waiting to hear: You were never the problem.

Resources for Continued Healing

If this post resonated with you, you’re not alone. Below is a resource that dives deeper into healing the inner child who was unfairly blamed or silenced.
📺 Video: When the Inner Child Feels Like the Problem – Patrick Teahan, LICSW
A trauma therapist breaks down why you might still feel like the “problem” in adulthood, and how to begin separating from that false belief.