Family favoritism is rarely admitted outright, but almost everyone can feel when it’s happening. Maybe your sibling was the “golden child” — the one praised for every achievement, defended in every conflict, and given the benefit of the doubt. Meanwhile, you might have been cast as the “difficult one,” the “quiet one,” or the “independent one” who supposedly didn’t need as much love. Even if no one ever said it aloud, the imbalance was clear: some children seemed to receive more affection, patience, and approval than others.
For the child on the losing end of that equation, the experience can cut deeply. Love begins to feel conditional, like something earned rather than freely given. And while the favoritism might fade from everyday conversation as you grow older, the impact rarely disappears on its own. It lingers — shaping self-worth, relationships, and emotional well-being long into adulthood.
When a child grows up feeling like the “less-favored” one, that role often follows them into every corner of adult life. The human need to feel valued doesn’t vanish once we leave our parents’ home; instead, the old wound influences how we seek — or avoid — connection.
Some adults respond to childhood favoritism by working tirelessly to prove they deserve love. They may become perfectionists at work, pushing themselves harder than everyone else just to feel equal. In friendships, they might go out of their way to please, saying yes to every request, terrified of being seen as replaceable. This drive often comes at a cost: burnout, resentment, and an unshakable sense that no amount of achievement will ever be enough.
Others take the opposite route. If you were treated as though your needs or feelings didn’t matter growing up, you might have learned to silence yourself. As an adult, this can look like avoiding conflict at all costs, struggling to share emotions with partners, or assuming your presence isn’t truly valued. Marriages and friendships can suffer because deep down, you may doubt whether anyone can love you unconditionally.
Research confirms what many “less-favored” children already know in their bones: family favoritism has long-term effects on mental health. A study published in the Journal of Family Psychology found that perceived parental favoritism is linked to higher rates of depression and lower life satisfaction in adulthood. This isn’t just about sibling rivalry — it’s about how we internalize the belief that our worth is lesser, and how that belief colors every interaction that follows.
Maya, a 36-year-old teacher, remembers watching her younger brother receive constant praise. He was “the smart one,” the one her parents invested in with tutoring, new opportunities, and endless encouragement. Maya, who loved art, was told her interests were “a hobby” and that she should focus on something more practical.
By the time she reached adulthood, Maya carried a quiet but heavy belief: I am less important. In her marriage, she found herself over-giving — cooking, planning, and organizing everything while rarely asking for what she needed. At work, she accepted extra projects without recognition, afraid that saying no would make her seem unworthy.
It wasn’t until therapy that Maya began to see the connection between her childhood role and her adult exhaustion. Through inner child work, she started writing letters to her younger self, affirming the love she never heard out loud. Slowly, she began setting boundaries with her parents and asserting her needs in her marriage. Today, Maya says, “For the first time in my life, I feel like I matter — not because of what I do, but because of who I am.”
If you recognize yourself in these patterns, you’re not alone. The pain of favoritism runs deep, but healing is possible. This isn’t about blaming parents forever — it’s about reclaiming your worth and rewriting the story you were given as a child.
The first step is to name what happened. Many adults minimize their experience, telling themselves, It wasn’t that bad or I should be over this by now. But acknowledging the pain of feeling overlooked is an act of courage. Journaling, therapy, or even talking with a trusted friend can help bring the wound into the light, where it can begin to heal.
Inner child practices — like guided meditations, letter writing, or visualization — can reconnect you with the parts of yourself that still long for unconditional love. Speaking to your younger self with compassion (“You were always worthy of love”) helps replace the old script with one that affirms your value.
Sometimes healing means having open conversations with siblings about how favoritism shaped your experiences. These talks can reveal that you weren’t alone in feeling hurt, or that your siblings carried their own unseen burdens. In other cases, it might involve setting firmer boundaries with parents who continue to dismiss your feelings. Remember: protecting your well-being is not disloyal — it’s necessary.
The ultimate goal is to stop chasing love you already deserve. Practicing self-care that feels nourishing (not performative), seeking friendships where you feel seen, and choosing partners who value you as you are — these are all acts of rewriting the old story. Over time, you’ll begin to internalize the truth: you are not a backup character in your own life. You are the lead.
The wound of being the “less-favored” child may never fully disappear, but it doesn’t have to define you. Healing isn’t about forcing your parents to change or competing with siblings for attention — it’s about recognizing that your worth was never dependent on someone else’s approval.
You are not the forgotten one. You are not the difficult one. You are not the one who has to earn love by over-giving, over-achieving, or disappearing.
You are, and always have been, worthy of love — unconditional, lasting, and whole. The more you reclaim that truth, the freer you’ll become to build relationships, careers, and lives rooted in authenticity rather than comparison.
Your story doesn’t end with being overlooked. It begins with choosing, right now, to step into your rightful place: at the center of your own life.