Often in my practice, I meet women who were never cared for, loved, or safe in their families. Among the many painful stories I hear, one theme stands out sharply: daughters of parents who delegate disciplining their daughters to their brothers—even younger brothers.

This dynamic is profoundly damaging. A child is expected to parent another child because the parents do not have the tools to… well, parent. What follows is often a sanctioned cycle of abuse, where sons are given absolute power over their sisters, encouraged to "keep them in check."

Again and again, I hear women say: “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.” And when I gently ask: “What if you aren’t doing anything wrong? What if it’s not your fault but theirs?” the look on their faces is often bewildered, disoriented—like someone who has been trapped in a cult or a narcissistic relationship for years. They have been conditioned to believe that cruelty is “for their own good,” and that if they only behaved differently, they might finally earn love.

The Wounds They Carry

Research shows that daughters of unloving mothers often struggle with self-doubt, difficulties in trusting others, and challenges in forming healthy relationships. They may:

• Develop low self-esteem and chronic self-blame.

• Struggle with intimacy and vulnerability in partnerships.

• Experience anxiety, depression, or complex PTSD.

• Feel estranged from their own needs and boundaries.

• Carry guilt and shame for not being able to “fix” their family.

Sibling Violence and Familial Erosion

Sibling violence in these families is often minimized or dismissed. Many women recount being told they couldn’t eat at the same table as their mother and brother, or being beaten so severely by a sibling that they were left with broken bones—while parents stood by, sometimes with satisfaction, sending the silent message: “you asked for it.”

One haunting refrain I hear again and again is:“I just can’t understand how my mother could stand there, while I was on the ground slowly losing consciousness because my brother was beating me so brutally—and she did nothing.”

These aren’t isolated remarks—they are the refrains of countless women. And still, many cling to the hope that their parents will eventually protect them, or that their brothers will one day stop. The tragedy is that while they wait for those who hurt them to save them, they miss the chance to save themselves—paralyzed by confusion and disbelief.

Family Dynamics Fueling Disconnection

Years later, parents sometimes realize the monsters they created when their sons turn on them. Yet even then, their daughters’ pain is rarely acknowledged. Fathers and mothers may seek help only when their sons’ behavior threatens the family’s reputation or risks police involvement—not when their daughters are being brutalized. In some cases, they even go so far as to hire outsiders to “teach their son a lesson”—not out of care for the daughters’ suffering, but to preserve the son’s image.

And contrary to stereotypes, these are not always families marked by poverty or lack of education. Many are well-respected members of their communities, admired from the outside, while the violence stays hidden inside.

Healing and Self-Care

For daughters of unloving parents, healing is a long and painful process, but it is possible. Some pathways include:

• Relearning self-worth: Therapy, journaling, and compassionate friendships can help replace the inner voice that says “it’s my fault.”

• Setting boundaries: Learning that “no” is a complete sentence, and that it’s not selfish to protect yourself.

• Building chosen families: Surrounding yourself with people who are safe, kind, and respectful.

• Engaging in self-nurturing practices: Creativity, mindfulness, body-based therapies, and rest are not luxuries but vital tools of healing.

• Seeking professional help: Trauma-informed therapy can provide language, validation, and tools to process what happened.

How Others Can Support Them

If you love or care for a woman who grew up in such a family:

• Believe her story—don’t minimize it with “all families fight.”

• Validate her pain instead of trying to explain it away.

• Offer consistent, gentle support without pressuring her to forgive or reconcile.

• Encourage her autonomy—she may never have had the chance to feel safe making her own choices.

If you are reading this and the stories sound familiar, it may be because thousands of women I have worked with tell the same story. If you resonate with this, please know: it is not your fault. You are not doing anything wrong. The people who were supposed to protect and love you simply could not. And that is their failure—not yours.