I Thought My Father Was the Villain
Chris Suchánek is the Founder and Chief Strategy Officer of Firm Media, an award-winning national marketing agency specializing in helping plastic surgery, oral surgery, and med spa practices thrive. With over 25 years of experience in marketing and brand strategy, he brings expertise in digital innovation, patient engagement, and healthcare growth.
It took me years to see who was controlling our family story and even longer to stop repeating it. It took me years to understand what I had grown up inside. For most of my life, I believed my father was the evil one. That was the story I was given, and my mother played the victim so convincingly that questioning it felt cruel.
When a child is raised inside a family story, it feels like reality. Without the distance or permission to examine it, you learn who is good, who is bad, and who is responsible for the pain.
I accepted those assignments for years. Then I began noticing that the facts did not always match the roles we had been given.
The power of the victim role
Someone who presents as wounded is not necessarily harmless. Victimhood can become a form of control when used to avoid accountability, recruit allies, or keep people divided. The person who appears weakest can become the center of the emotional system.
In my family, information rarely traveled directly. People heard what others supposedly said, and intentions were interpreted before anyone could explain themselves. By the time a message arrived, it no longer resembled where it started.
Psychology calls this triangulation. Instead of two people speaking directly, a third person controls the connection. Over time, siblings stop knowing one another and instead know versions created by the family system.
When the pattern repeated
Only later could I recognize the narcissistic dynamics that shaped my childhood. I developed romantic relationships with people who shared some of the same traits, perhaps because what is familiar can feel like love.
I also noticed similar dynamics in professional relationships. The people and circumstances were different, but the patterns felt familiar. I began to understand how easily we recreate what we have not resolved.
We were given roles
In unhealthy families, children are often assigned roles before they understand them. One becomes reliable. Another becomes the favorite. Another becomes difficult. These are not personalities. They are positions within a system designed to preserve itself.
The difficult child may be the one who notices contradictions. The favorite receives approval for protecting the story. The reliable child absorbs responsibility that never belonged to them.
These roles follow us into adulthood. We may build careers and raise families, yet still defend our assigned positions. The wall remains even when its builder is no longer in the room.
The cost of the game
Some of my siblings remain inside the family pattern. I say that without superiority because I understand why. Seeing the truth can cost your identity, belonging, and the family you tried to preserve. Denial can feel safer than grief.
Almost a year ago, I ran into one of my brothers at a restaurant after we had not spoken in some time. The exchange was cordial, but by the time I got home, my internal dialogue had shifted, "Did I say anything he could twist when speaking to other family members?"
I had not experienced that unsafe voice in years. Its sudden return told me that my mind still remembered the system. I did not need an argument or accusation. That reaction was evidence enough that the dynamic was real and that distance had brought me peace.
My sister did not make it. That loss prevents me from treating this as an interesting psychological theory. Family dysfunction shapes how people understand love, loyalty, safety, and their own worth. Its consequences can echo across an entire life.
Recognizing what happened did not give me a clean ending. It gave me grief. I had to mourn my sister, the relationships I wished I had with my brothers, the father I judged through someone else’s story, and the mother I needed her to be.
Truth without revenge
My father was not a saint, and neither am I. Understanding my mother’s role does not make him innocent or her entirely evil. People can be wounded and still wound others. They can love their children and still harm them.
I now understand that I do not have to be the healthy one to leave a relationship that is not working for me. I can simply say, I may not be healthy in every way, but I know I am not getting healthier in this situation.
That does not declare someone bad. Sometimes I am not saying, “I do not like you.” I am saying, “You have lost access to me.”
Other times, I am admitting that I do not like my thoughts about you or who I become when we are together. A boundary does not require a villain. It requires honesty about what the relationship brings out in me.
I do not need a diagnosis or my family’s agreement to validate my experience. I only need to be honest about what continued participation was costing me.
That distinction matters. The goal of seeing clearly is not revenge. It is freedom.
Choosing peace and freedom
Eventually, I had to decide whether remaining connected to my family required me to keep abandoning myself. I chose peace and freedom.
From the outside, cutting ties with family can look selfish. I once feared it was. Today, I understand it as the most courageous decision I have made. I was not punishing anyone. I was accepting what I could not control and taking responsibility for the life I could build.
For the first few years, I learned to see myself as alone in the world in a healthy way. Not abandoned. Not unwanted. Self-reliant. I stopped waiting for my family to validate my reality and trusted my own judgment.
Peace meant no longer fighting to be understood. Freedom did not mean I stopped loving them. It meant love no longer required access to me or participation in destructive patterns.
I did not choose isolation. I chose self-reliance that allows connection without self-abandonment. I did not choose against my family. I chose my own life.
Read more from Christopher A. Suchánek
Christopher A. Suchánek, Founder, Chief Strategy Officer, and Speaker
Chris Suchánek is the Founder and Chief Strategy Officer of Firm Media, an award-winning national marketing agency specializing in helping plastic surgery, oral surgery, and med spa practices thrive. With over 25 years of experience spanning the entertainment and specialty medical sectors, Chris has worked with iconic brands such as Warner Bros., MTV, and EMI Music, earning international recognition, including a Grammy Award with Brainstorm Artists International.
