the effects of being the unfavorite child

growing up, you don’t always have the words for it. you just know. it’s there in the way your sibling’s jokes land better at the dinner table. in the way their mistakes are brushed off while yours become a family-wide debate. in the way their needs are met like it’s second nature, while yours are treated like an inconvenience. you tell yourself you’re imagining it. that you’re just being dramatic. but deep down, you know the truth: if love was a pie, you were getting the crumbs. and so you learn. you learn that attention is not a given, it’s a prize. that being good isn’t enough—you have to be exceptional. that love has rules, and somehow, you weren’t given the playbook.

the thing is, being the unfavorite child isn’t just a childhood phase. it’s a personality-shaping, nervous-system-rewiring experience that follows you into adulthood like a glitch in your programming. because here’s what the research says (yes, there are actual studies on this—turns out we weren’t just imagining it): parental favoritism has a more damaging effect on mental health than divorce. i’ll let you sit with that. so if you’ve ever wondered why you overanalyze texts, get irrationally competitive, or feel the need to turn every minor achievement into a grand see, i told you i was worth it moment—congratulations. you might just be an unfavorite child in recovery.

1. you’re a master at reading between the lines.

when love isn’t freely given, you become fluent in subtleties. a slow text reply? they must be mad at you. a slight change in tone? something’s off. someone says, i’ve just been really busy? translation: they’re bored of you. you can spot emotional distance from a mile away, and you’re convinced it’s always your fault.

your definition of love is… complicated.

if love felt like something you had to earn, then guess what? you keep earning it. you’re drawn to people who make you work for their attention. you confuse emotional unavailability with depth. you get suspicious when someone likes you too much—because where’s the challenge in that?