Emotional neglect is a wound that doesn’t bleed but aches in ways that are hard to articulate. Unlike physical abuse, which is often visible and immediately recognisable, emotional neglect operates in a much subtler, more insidious way. The absence of love, attention, and care during a child’s formative years creates a kind of emptiness—an invisible injury that goes unnoticed, not only by others but sometimes by the child themselves. The silence surrounding emotional neglect is what makes it so damaging; it’s a void where there should be connection, safety, and comfort, but instead, there is only isolation and confusion.
Children are emotionally fragile. In their early years, they rely entirely on their caregivers for more than just physical survival. Emotional nourishment—love, affirmation, attention, and validation—is just as critical to a child’s development as food or shelter. Without these, the child’s sense of self and security begins to crumble. This absence, or worse, the active withdrawal of emotional support, sends the message to the child that they are not important, that their feelings don’t matter, and that they are not worthy of love. Over time, this message becomes internalised, shaping the child’s developing sense of identity and place in the world.
On a cognitive level, a child who experiences emotional neglect often grows up without the emotional vocabulary to express what they are feeling. Without an adult to help them process emotions like sadness, fear, or anger, these feelings become overwhelming and, more often than not, are buried. The child learns to suppress their emotions because expressing them doesn’t lead to comfort or validation; it leads to more pain, or worse, indifference. This suppression is not just a temporary coping mechanism; it becomes a way of being. The brain adapts to the lack of emotional nourishment by creating survival strategies—one of which is emotional numbing.
This emotional numbing is a direct consequence of the silence surrounding emotional neglect. The child learns to exist in a world where their feelings are invisible, and in response, they begin to believe that their emotions don’t deserve to be felt, let alone expressed. Over time, this leads to a disconnect between what they feel and how they process those feelings. The child might struggle to identify and name their emotions, resulting in confusion and self-doubt. When feelings are unacknowledged, they fester, often manifesting as anxiety, depression, or chronic emotional dysregulation in adulthood.
As the child grows, this emotional silence continues to affect them. In adolescence and adulthood, they may have trouble forming meaningful relationships, because the core belief that they are unworthy of love persists. They might struggle with intimacy or trust, unable to allow themselves to be vulnerable because vulnerability, in their experience, leads to hurt or rejection. On a cognitive level, the brain becomes wired for hyper-vigilance in relationships—always on alert for the smallest signs of emotional withdrawal, often interpreting neutral or even positive behaviour as rejection or disinterest. This pattern of thinking can create a self-fulfilling prophecy, where the fear of rejection leads to behaviours that push others away, reinforcing the belief that they are unlovable.
In adulthood, the effects of emotional neglect manifest as a deep-seated sense of inadequacy. The adult who was once the emotionally neglected child may find themselves struggling with imposter syndrome, constantly doubting their worth in both personal and professional settings. This isn’t just a passing feeling of insecurity; it’s a core belief that they aren’t good enough, that they don’t belong, and that any success or love they receive is somehow undeserved or fleeting. Cognitive distortions, such as all-or-nothing thinking, overgeneralisation, and catastrophising, are common in those who have experienced emotional neglect. These thinking patterns reinforce the idea that failure is imminent and that no matter what they do, they will never be “enough.”
On a relational level, emotional neglect can lead to chronic people-pleasing behaviour. The need to feel valued or appreciated becomes an almost desperate pursuit. This can result in the adult taking on too much, constantly overextending themselves in an effort to earn love, validation, or approval that they never received as a child. But because the underlying belief is that they are inherently unworthy of love, no amount of external validation ever feels like enough. This creates a cycle of burnout and emotional exhaustion, leaving them feeling even more disconnected from themselves and others.
The silence of emotional neglect also often translates into an inability to ask for help. The emotionally neglected child grows into an adult who feels that their needs don’t matter, so they are reluctant to reach out for support, even when they desperately need it. They may struggle with setting boundaries, either becoming overly dependent on others for validation or isolating themselves to avoid the risk of further rejection. This inability to assert their emotional needs perpetuates the feeling of being invisible or overlooked, deepening the emotional wounds from childhood.
Perhaps the most tragic part of emotional neglect is that many people don’t even realise they’ve experienced it until well into adulthood, if at all. Because emotional neglect isn’t typically associated with obvious trauma like physical abuse, it often goes undiagnosed and untreated. It’s only when patterns of emotional dysregulation, anxiety, depression, or dysfunctional relationships become unbearable that people begin to seek answers—and by then, the damage has been compounded over years or even decades.
Healing from emotional neglect is a complex process. It requires the individual to first acknowledge that their emotional needs weren’t met, which is often difficult when they’ve spent a lifetime believing they aren’t worthy of having those needs in the first place. Therapy, especially trauma-informed approaches, can help break the cycle of emotional numbness and teach the individual how to reconnect with their emotions. But this isn’t a quick fix. It involves peeling back the layers of cognitive distortions and deeply ingrained beliefs that have taken root over years of neglect.
Ultimately, the silence of emotional neglect is far more than the absence of love or attention—it’s the absence of self. It’s the slow erosion of a child’s sense of worth, which then transposes into adulthood as a deeply ingrained belief that they are invisible, undeserving, or broken. The path to healing is about reclaiming that lost sense of self, learning to feel again, and, perhaps most importantly, understanding that their worth was never tied to the love they did or didn’t receive. Emotional neglect may have shaped their past, but it doesn’t have to define their future.
In my own life, emotional neglect was a defining experience. My father was overtly cruel—emotionally and physically abusive. He didn’t just withhold love; he made it clear that I wasn’t worthy of it. But the real knife twisted in the relationship with my mother. You see, there’s something profoundly isolating about having no one to turn to when you’re hurt, scared, or lonely. My mother was there physically, but she was passive in her affection, and what little trust I might have tried to build was shattered when she would tell my father everything I shared with her. It was a betrayal that cut deeply into the already fragile sense of self I was trying to form. As a child, I felt trapped—unlovable, worthless, and with nowhere to go for comfort. In a home full of people, I was profoundly alone.
Pete Walker, in his book Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, talks about what he calls the CPTSD denial onion. The idea is that as you peel back the layers of denial, you begin to realise just how catastrophic it is to be emotionally abandoned, especially as a child. The full weight of this kind of neglect doesn’t hit all at once. It comes in waves, each one uncovering another layer of grief, anger, and sadness that has been buried for years. When you finally acknowledge the depth of that abandonment, you can begin the long, arduous process of recovery. But it’s important to understand that this isn’t something that can be ‘fixed’ with a couple of sessions with a therapist. It’s a lifelong journey.
For children, emotional neglect feels like a deep, endless pit of worthlessness. It’s not just about not getting attention or love. It’s the constant, gnawing sense that you aren’t important enough to deserve love in the first place. Children naturally need love—they seek it out instinctively because it is as essential to their emotional development as food is to their physical growth. When that love is absent, children will often turn to other means of self-soothing. In my case, it was food. I used it to fill the void, to comfort myself when there was no one else to turn to. For others, it might be substance abuse, promiscuity, or gambling—habits that temporarily distract from the overwhelming loneliness but ultimately create their own destructive cycles.
I know three active alcoholics who live this truth every day. Each of them tells me, almost defensively, that they could stop drinking whenever they wanted to. But they say this while sitting in a pub, on their fifth or sixth beer of the night, on a weekday. It’s tragic, really, because it’s clear they can’t stop, no matter how much they insist otherwise. And why would they? Drinking is their crutch, just as food is mine. It’s how they cope with the pain they don’t want to face. Emotional neglect often sets the stage for these kinds of addictive behaviours, because it leaves such a deep void that something, anything, is better than sitting with the emptiness.
CPTSD, is what happens when emotional neglect or abuse becomes chronic. Unlike PTSD, which is often the result of a single traumatic event, CPTSD develops over time, through prolonged exposure to trauma, particularly during childhood. In my case, the trauma wasn’t just my father’s cruelty—it was the daily, grinding reality of knowing that neither of my parents would be there for me in the ways I needed them to be. My father’s abuse was predictable, in its way. But my mother’s passivity and betrayal were the real emotional landmines. I couldn’t trust her, and so I couldn’t trust anyone.
The psychological effects of CPTSD are far-reaching. It’s not just about flashbacks or anxiety attacks, though those certainly play a part. It’s about how deeply the trauma embeds itself in your sense of self. It alters the way you see the world and the way you see yourself in it. For a long time, I believed I was fundamentally unlovable—that something was inherently wrong with me, which is why I wasn’t worth the effort of being loved. That kind of belief doesn’t just go away because you become an adult. It follows you, like a shadow, into every relationship, every interaction, every quiet moment when you’re alone with your thoughts.
My journey with CPTSD has been long, and it’s far from over. I remember sitting on my therapist Jane’s couch during our first session, telling her I didn’t really have much to talk about. How wrong I was. Jane has been in my life for thirteen years now, and she has become like a mother figure to me—someone I would take a bullet for. In those early days, I didn’t understand the full scope of what I was dealing with. It’s taken years of peeling back the layers of the ‘denial onion’ to get to the core of my trauma. But Jane has been there, guiding me, helping me face the darkness with patience and wisdom. It’s as though she has become the headlights on my car, illuminating the winding, hauntingly dark lane that is my journey.
The process of recovery from CPTSD isn’t about ‘fixing’ yourself. It’s about understanding that the trauma you experienced as a child wasn’t your fault and learning to live with the scars it left behind. It’s about finding new ways to cope with the emotional pain, without turning to food or alcohol or any other destructive behaviours. And it’s about building relationships with people who can offer you the love and support that was absent in your early life.
But here’s the thing—recovery is messy. It’s not linear. Some days, you’ll feel like you’ve made progress, and other days, it will feel like you’re right back where you started. That’s normal. Healing isn’t about reaching some perfect state where you’re no longer affected by your past. It’s about learning to live alongside it, to make peace with the fact that it happened, and to find ways to nurture the parts of yourself that were neglected for so long.
For anyone who has experienced emotional neglect or struggles with CPTSD, I want to say this: you are not alone. The feelings of worthlessness, the sense that you aren’t deserving of love or happiness—those are lies your trauma has taught you. They aren’t the truth. The truth is that you are deserving of love, of care, of all the things you were denied. It’s okay to take time for yourself, to reach out for help, and to acknowledge that healing takes time. It’s okay to have bad days, and it’s okay to admit that this journey is hard. What matters is that you keep going.
Pete Walker’s work on CPTSD has been instrumental in helping me understand that emotional neglect is not a trivial matter. It’s catastrophic in the way it shapes a person’s identity and their ability to form meaningful relationships. When a child doesn’t have a person they can turn to in times of danger or distress, it creates a wound that can last a lifetime. But healing is possible. It’s not quick, and it’s not easy, but with the right support, it can be done.
For me, that support has been Jane, my therapist. She has been a constant in my life for over a decade, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s helped me navigate the darkest parts of my trauma, offering me the emotional safety and stability that I never had as a child. It hasn’t been an easy process, but it’s one that has allowed me to reclaim parts of myself that I thought were lost forever.
Recovery from CPTSD and emotional neglect is not about erasing the past. It’s about learning to live with it, to acknowledge its impact, and to find ways to heal. It’s about understanding that while the trauma may have shaped you, it doesn’t have to define you. You can find new ways to cope, to connect, and to live a life that is full of the love and care you deserve.
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