Scapegoat abuse in alcoholic families is not uncommon. Scapegoat is one of the five roles family members may take on when living in dysfunctional or alcoholic families, according to Sharon Martin, LCSW.  The others are mascot, lost child, hero and enabler (caretaker). Dr. Tian Dayton provides a portrait of an alcoholic family in her article of the same name, and explains the qualities and trains of adult children of alcoholics. Both of which helps readers better understand the importance of raising awareness about what happens to the one in four children who grow up with parental alcohol or other drug abuse.

To that end, I was pleased when today’s guest author, Andrea Ashely, offered to share her story of the scapegoat abuse she endured, its lasting impact in adulthood, and her journey of coming to terms with it. Andrea has been sober for 11 years and is passionate about sharing her experience in hopes of helping others to heal.

My Scapegoat Story by Andrea Ashley

Scapegoat Abuse in Alcoholic Families – story of personal experience by Andrea Ashley

I became the scapegoat of my family at age 9. I was showing signs of separation anxiety. I couldn’t spend the night away from home anymore. I was the girl at the sleepover who always got sick right before it was time to go to bed. It got so bad that I resorted to sleeping with my mom in her bed every night while my dad slept in mine. After several months of this and no sign of improvement, my parents brought me to see a child psychologist.

That’s when my parents deemed me the scapegoat, or what I prefer to call “the identified patient.” And not because they sought help. There clearly were issues that needed professional attention. The crime was what they failed to disclose to the therapist.

Two years earlier, when the three of us were out to dinner one night, it was clear to me something was off. My parents were barely talking. At one point, I saw a tear roll down my mom’s face. On our way out, she took me to the bathroom. As soon as she locked the stall door, I asked her what was wrong. That’s when she told me she was an alcoholic. Being 7 and not knowing what she meant, I asked. She said, “It means I can’t drink.”

My dad was a workaholic. He was often on the road, leaving me to assume the role of caretaker when he was away. And when he was in town, I was his sidekick. He included me in various anti-alcoholic behaviors, like monitoring how much was in each bottle in the liquor cabinet or searching the house for hidden stashes. And because my mom’s alcoholism was a secret to the rest of the world, I was also his confidant and emotional support.

Years later, I asked my mom if she ever mentioned to the therapist that she was an alcoholic, or that she and my dad fought all the time. Her response, “No, it didn’t seem relevant.” And here’s the thing: I didn’t say anything to therapist, either. My parents never had to tell me to keep quiet because this was the behavior that had been modeled to me.

By middle school, I was sleeping in my own bed again and could successfully attend a sleepover. But I began to act out in other ways that fulfilled my parents’ projection of me. The faulty belief that there was something inherently wrong with me had been ingrained and took me as its hostage.

The Invisible Wounds

Scapegoating is a common diversion tactic and defense mechanism among dysfunctional families. By placing all attention and energy on the scapegoat, family members avoid confronting their own shortcomings or marital difficulties. And it’s typically not a conscious or intentional act of malice, but rather an unconscious attempt to displace their own fears, insecurities, and defects onto others. The impact on children is especially detrimental, as they spend their lives rooted in fears, insecurities, and defects that were never theirs to begin with.

Family systems expert Rebecca Mandeville is responsible for coining the term “family scapegoating abuse,” which she describes as the “most insidious form of psycho-emotional abuse” a child can endure. She explains that not only are most adult survivors unaware of the negative and pervasive impact this has on the rest of their lives, but that they are also completely oblivious to the reality of having suffered any abuse at all.

Healing from Scapegoat Abuse – Awareness Is The First Step

I too spent many years minimizing the trauma I experienced as a child, as well as its This was the case for me. My needs (and most of my wants) had always been accounted for. And I had never been physically or sexually abused. Yes, aspects of my childhood had been less than ideal, and I knew they impacted me, but others had surely had it much worse.

But at 28, I hit an emotional bottom. I realized that what I was dealing with was much more powerful than I had assumed, and that my livelihood depended on facing it. Only by acknowledging this could I begin the healing process. Awareness is always the first step toward change. I sought the help I so desperately needed and have been diligently working on identifying, understanding, and discarding the faulty programming of my dysfunctional upbringing. And while there’s still more work to be done, the growth thus far has been profound and gives me much hope for my future.

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