Five Lessons I’ve Learned From Family Estrangement

If you’ve gone no contact with your family—or even just thought about it—you know how isolating it feels.

I made that really difficult decision about estrangement five years ago. That’s why I created this space, The Scapegoat Club—for anyone navigating the messy, complicated reality of estrangement.

Today, I want to share five things I’ve learned about myself, family, and belonging since making that choice.

1. I Didn’t Just Leave—I Was Slowly Pushed Out

Estrangement often gets painted as a single, dramatic event—someone storms out, slams the door, never looks back. That wasn’t my story.

For decades, I was slowly excluded in ways that added up. A thousand tiny nudges. If I voiced an opinion that didn’t fit the family narrative, I was “difficult.” If I wanted something different, I was “selfish.” When my grandfather passed away while I was at university, no one called to tell me. They decided for me that I didn’t need to be “bothered.”

I came to see that I wasn’t freely walking away—I was being told, over and over, in big and small ways: You don’t really belong here. Eventually, I had no choice but to protect myself.

2. I Am Not the “Bad One”

For years, I believed I was selfish, hurtful, ungrateful—because that’s what I was told. But here’s the truth:

I’m outspoken. I’m willful. I question double standards. I ask uncomfortable questions. Those things don’t make me bad. They make me me.

My family didn’t really know me—they knew a version of me they had created: too intense, impossible to please, always self-centered. That character wasn’t real. It was a projection, a way to avoid looking at their own shortcomings.

Now I see that the very traits they demonized are my strengths. And I’m proud of them.

What I used to believe were weaknesses, I now see as my greatest strengths.

3. Their “Love” Wasn’t Really Love

My family said they loved me. But when I look back, I don’t think they even liked me.

What they called love wasn’t the kind that celebrates individuality, listens, or makes space. It was heavy and sticky—like tar. Conditional, controlling, full of judgment.

They might have thought it was love, but it was really surveillance. Every move away from the family myth was tracked and punished. They didn’t like me. And they definitely didn’t like the truth-teller side of me.

4. I Am Better Than I Imagined

Five years in, I can honestly say: estrangement didn’t just make me “okay.” It made me better than I could have imagined.

It cracked my world open. Without the constant twisting and confusion, I can think clearly. I can breathe. I can trust myself.

What once felt normal—chaos, judgment, manipulation—now feels unbearable. What once felt unreachable—peace, groundedness, clarity—has become my baseline.

That shift is everything.

5. Estrangement Isn’t Always Final

This one surprised me. I used to believe estrangement was forever. That once the bridge was burned, it was gone. But I realized that belief wasn’t mine—it was theirs. Another way to control me: If you leave, you can never come back.

Here’s how I see it now: they burned the bridge, but I get to decide if another path ever gets built.

Would I reconnect? Only if it came with honesty, accountability, genuine change, and a real apology. I won’t open the door to cruelty, blame, or manipulation again. But if they could take responsibility—if they could truly make the family safe—I’d be open.

I don’t expect it. I’m not holding my breath. But the ball isn’t in my court anymore.

Final Thoughts

Wherever you are—five years in, five months in, or just realizing this might be your path—you’re not alone.

Estrangement doesn’t mean you’re broken. Sometimes it means you’ve finally stopped breaking yourself to fit into someone else’s world. And that’s the beginning of rebuilding yourself—on your own terms.

As always,

much love

Chess xx