When Families Get Love Wrong

By Chess Dugas – Psychotherapist, Coach, and Survivor of a Difficult Family

Today, I want to talk about something tender and complex: what happens when families get love wrong.

I don’t mean a little misunderstanding. I mean when the idea, the emotion, and the essence of love is fundamentally misunderstood or misused by the very people who are supposed to give it most freely.

“But They Say They Love Me…”

One of the trickiest dynamics I see with clients—and lived through myself—is when a person says they love you, but their actions don’t line up.

We’re taught to believe that love is sacred. That family love is unconditional. That parents, especially, love their children instinctively, benevolently, and wholly.

But here’s the thing: just because someone says they love you doesn’t mean the relationship is safe, healthy, or loving in any real, felt sense.

Many of us get stuck here—trying to set boundaries or step away from a toxic situation—because we were told it was love. And we want to believe it was love. Because if it wasn’t, then what was it?

The Myth of Family Love

When I was growing up, I don’t recall anyone ever saying that some parents might not love their children.

Sure, I saw portrayals of extreme abuse—violence, neglect, horror. But my situation didn’t look like that. So I assumed: if my parents weren’t doing those things, then they must love me.

But what I didn’t see growing up—on TV, in stories, even in real life—were examples of love that felt like love. Love that was playful, tender, protective. Love that looked like joy between parent and child. I saw it in fictional families, but never in my own.

And the more I saw it in others, the more I started to recognize the aching absence of it in my past.

Love Is a Feeling—Not Just a Word

Here’s the truth I’ve come to:

If someone says they love you, but you don’t feel loved, that is not your failure. That’s on them.

Love is not just a word. Love is an emotion. A felt experience. And if the other person says, “I love you,” but follows it with control, criticism, cruelty, or coldness—then something’s not right.

It doesn’t matter if they say the words. If their actions don’t follow through—if the feeling never lands—then what they’re offering isn’t love. Or at least, it isn’t love in any form that’s healthy or sustainable.

And for children? Let me be absolutely clear:

It is never the child’s job to feel loved. It is always the adult’s job to make love felt.

If a child is confused about whether they’re loved, that is the adult’s responsibility—not the child’s shortcoming.

My Own Childhood: The Chocolate That Didn’t Fix It

I remember one specific moment as a kid that makes this all heartbreakingly clear.

There was this UK ad campaign for Rolos—those caramel-filled chocolates. The slogan was, “Do you love someone enough to give them your last Rolo?” It was sweet, kind of cheesy.

But at that age, it felt to me like a guidebook on how to prove love.

Giving chocolate felt like a way to prove my love, and that I was lovable in return.

So I saved my last Rolo. I made a little box. Wrapped it up. Gave it to my mum. I was trying so hard to show her: Look, I love you. Can you love me back now?

I don’t remember her rejecting it—but all the same, it didn’t work. It didn’t unlock her affection. It didn’t change the dynamic. I stayed stuck in the same pattern: giving and proving, hoping and trying, but never quite feeling loved in return.

Later, I gave her one of those “World’s Best Mum” mugs. Again—trying to prove that I was worthy of love. But no gesture, no gift, no performance ever seemed to be enough.

When Love Becomes a Test You Can’t Pass

I was constantly told I was selfish. Mean. Hurtful. That my behavior was proof I didn’t love them—and therefore, I didn’t deserve love in return.

It was a rigged game. No matter what I did, I couldn’t win. The more I tried to earn their love, the more I reinforced the belief that it was mine to earn.

That’s the trap many of us fall into: thinking that if we love hard enough, we’ll finally get the kind of love we’ve always longed for.

But real love isn’t earned through suffering. It’s given freely—or it’s not love at all.

Learned Love vs. Felt Love

To be fair, I think my parents probably thought they were loving. They were likely repeating patterns from their own childhoods. But at some point, we all have to take responsibility for how our love lands.

If someone you’re close to says, “This doesn’t feel loving to me,” the loving response is not defensiveness or blame. It’s curiosity. Compassion. Change.

Children especially don’t have the language or power to demand love. But they feel it. Or they don’t. And if they don’t, that’s not because they’re broken. It’s because something important is missing.

So... What Does Love Feel Like?

Love isn’t chaos. It’s not shame. It’s not a prize dangled just out of reach.

Love should feel:

• Comforting

• Safe

• Positive

• Supportive

• Like something you can lean into—not something you have to earn or perform for

If your experience of love feels confusing, precarious, or full of obligation and control—it might be time to reevaluate whether this is love at all, or something else in disguise.

Final Thoughts

Thank you for spending this time with me. If this resonated—if you’re untangling your own idea of love from what you were taught or told—I just want to say: you’re not alone.

From my heart to yours: be kind to yourself. Keep asking the hard questions. You deserve love that feels like love.

Take care, see you soon

– Chess