What I Learned As A Scapegoat

Reflecting on my healing journey as a family scapegoat

For most of my life, I had no idea about my role as a family scapegoat. My life seemed normal, and I did everything possible to make sure others saw it that way.

But somehow I never felt I belonged. There was always this sense that something was wrong with me, though I couldn't put my finger on it.

I hoped that once I achieved this, or that the void inside me would finally disappear. I chased better jobs, changed cities several times for that, but felt even emptier after each move.

Until one day, I decided I was done with that repeating cycle.

So I quit my job and decided to make a dream come true: traveling through Latin America for a year. It felt like an inner calling that I could no longer resist.

That was also when my journey of discovering my scapegoat role began.

Questioning what I regarded as a normal family

As a German, I was amazed by how warm and open Latin people are. I still remember chicken bus rides when old ladies sat next to me and loved to chat with me.

It was never just small talk. They were genuinely interested in me. Of course, part of it may have been because I was a gringo and stood out on those local buses.

But it was not just that. In less than 10 minutes, my seat neighbors often managed to make me feel like family — as if I were a lost son who had finally come home. There was a warmth to those conversations that I can hardly put into words.

And it was something completely new for me. Because I'd never experienced anything like that in my family of origin.

I first thought it was one of those cold German vs. emotional Latino cultural differences, but it wasn't.

When I got sick, even backpackers I barely knew cared more about me than I had ever experienced from my own family.

Moments like these kept adding up. And they slowly made me realize that the way my family treated me was not as normal as I believed.

That was when I began questioning the dynamics in my family.

You cannot change people

Back home, it was shocking to realize how emotionally cold my mother actually was. She had zero empathy for people around her who were suffering. To her, they were simply too weak, wimpy, or even stupid.

I tried many times to offer her a different perspective. Sometimes the people she judged were struggling with things she herself had gone through years earlier. But still, she was unable to put herself in someone else’s shoes.

I had similar experiences with my younger brother. When my parents divorced, I became kind of a substitute father for him. I tried over and over to show him better ways of handling things instead of repeating the same patterns of the father he hated so much.

But in the end, he grew into almost a carbon copy of my father.

That was a very painful lesson…

Projection is real

When I read about projection in psychology books, it sounded like voodoo to me. I mean, how could anyone be so blind that they only saw their own flaws in others?

And yet projection is painfully real even in the most obvious and simple situations.

I remember when my father showed me the broken USB port of his laptop. Back then, you could only plug the connector in one way. If you tried the wrong way, there was a lot of resistance. But he had forced it anyway.

He looked at me with a childish grin, pretending to be innocent.

I just stood there in disbelief.

Because whenever I broke something, no matter whether it was an accident or not, I was punished and accused of not being careful enough.

My parents loved to ridicule other people for being stupid. When I tried to be funny like them, I got punished for being disrespectful. And yes, it was disrespectful. But I had learned it from them.

Back then, I found all that very confusing.

Hyperindependence

I learned early on that I couldn't rely on my parents. They didn't want to be bothered with my problems.

In the few cases I tried, it backfired. Having a problem meant there was something wrong with me. And of course, they made sure I knew.

So I stopped sharing and dealt with everything on my own.

The downside was that I also stopped asking for help in general. And that made my life much harder than it needed to be.

Seeing things from different perspectives

As a scapegoat, I learned that my truth often didn't count.

But of course, I wanted to defend myself to avoid yet another punishment.

In my mind, I went through every possible perspective and argument to make sure I was prepared.

Later at work, that habit often gave me an edge in difficult situations.

But the price was high. Constantly trying to think of everything turned out to be very exhausting.

Blind spots are real

I learned rather late in life about my role as the family scapegoat.

The funny thing is that some people — even professional coaches — had told me that there was something deeply wrong with my family dynamics.

Back then, I had no idea what they were trying to tell me. And I didn't have the faintest idea what healthy family dynamics would be like.

I regarded my family as normal and believed that I was somehow defective. That was the only explanation for me why I didn't feel I belonged.

I am not sure whether a book about scapegoating and dysfunctional family systems would have helped me understand. Probably, I would have still tried to defend my family and make sense of it all.

Experiencing warmth and connection in Latin America opened the gates.

But the real understanding came when the scapegoat pattern repeated itself at work. Sometimes it was shocking to see how much my bosses resembled my father.

If those painful patterns had any purpose, it was to wake me up.

Sensitivity is an asset, not a curse

As a child, I learned to walk on eggshells. It was necessary for survival. I guess that contributed a lot to my high levels of sensitivity.

My parents regarded my sensitivity as an unwanted weakness and accused me of being a wimp. The accusation came seemingly out of nowhere.

I often sensed things, couldn't put them into words, but of course, my face showed how I felt.

Being sensitive felt like a curse. I tried to push my feelings aside by rationalizing things. But of course, that made me feel even more disconnected.

It was a blessing when I finally found the courage to connect with my feelings again and allow my sensitivity to shine through.

My parents couldn't handle my sensitivity… but many other people—especially those going through rough times who want to be seen—truly value it. Maybe it is also because I sometimes seem to see myself in them.

Which brings me to the next point.

Learning who you are

I admired people who genuinely knew what they were good at and what their strengths were. But even in my mid-thirties, I had no idea who I was.

I knew what I had achieved in life, but I attributed most of it to just luck. Because there was nothing I felt particularly good at.

A reason for that is probably that my family (not only my parents) never celebrated any of my successes. I had no idea what it felt like to be good at something.

I had to learn it from zero.

Long stretches of loneliness and silence helped me to listen to my inner voice and discover who I truly am.

Now I feel more self-aware than ever, though I am still very self-critical.

Family lines

You are not simply born into this world and just become who you are.

At least it was not like that for me, and probably also not for my brother.

In my younger years, I repeated the patterns I learned from my parents. That didn't work out too well for me, and I finally chose to break the cycle.

My younger brother rebelled against the family dynamics first, but eventually became like his father.

I have no idea at what point we decide which route we will go, or whether it is even a conscious decision. All I know is that much of what I am comes from my family line.

It seems like every generation passes some trauma to the next generation. My mother was even aware that she received no love from her mother. Yet she repeated the pattern and did not have the slightest regret.

I will not solve the mystery.

Maybe my parents actually did the best they could, and the trauma they could not process simply did not allow for "more”. Of course, that doesn't apologize for anything.

But it does explain. And it takes you as a scapegoat out of the equation.

You were simply born into a family system that still has a long way to heal. It is nobody's fault. But you are responsible for the path you choose.

Sometimes the only option is to walk away

I chose to walk away from family. It was the hardest decision of my life.

I saw no other option left for me, and I don't want to romanticize anything here.

But walking away is an option. Even if it is the only one left.

As a scapegoat, you carry the weight for others. And no matter how much you carry for them, it will never be enough.

Nobody will ever say thank you. Quite the opposite—when you can no longer carry the weight, you may even be blamed.

The ultimate question is: When do you want to start living your own life?

There is nothing wrong with being of service to others. It can be meaningful, it can fulfill you, and give your life a beautiful sense of purpose.

But you also have needs that deserve to be met.

You want to belong. You want to be valued for who you are.

Life will not be roses and rainbows every day—but it should still be your life, not the one others try to manipulate you into living.

You are not alone

I was scared of loneliness and did not know how to handle it.

After I decided to cut ties with my family, I went through a very dark phase.

I thought I had friends, but it turned out none of them understood what I was going through. So I basically felt all on my own — again.

Sometimes the only way out is through.

Accepting loneliness allowed me to spend time in silence and hear my inner voice again.

I don't know how exactly to describe this voice.

But there is something in us that wants us to live, thrive, to shine.

That something can work magic.

All you need to do is listen.

I listened and started expressing my creativity in different ways.

Writing is one of them. It is a powerful tool to connect with the world and share my story.

But there is more…

The more you live your life, the more things will fall into place. I know, at first it doesn't look that way. But looking back, things suddenly start to make sense.

Yes, you need to show the world that you are here.

And once you do, people will see you — the ones you resonate with.

Some will sense your pain because they have been there before.

They know we are in this together and will give you a helping hand.

Just show up and let your light shine.