The Violence We See: How Childhood Exposure to Domestic Violence Shapes Us

For adults who experienced domestic violence in childhood, the memories are often fragmented, blurred by the passing of time. Sometimes they resurface as feelings instead of images: tight chests when voices rise or the urge to flee when the tension gets too thick. You might have told yourself, “It wasn’t that bad,” or "Other people had it worse” to normalize your experiences. Maybe you still struggle to call it violence at all. But if you grew up afraid of what might happen when a door slammed, or you heard footsteps coming down the hall, then you are likely a child of domestic violence.

When you witness someone you love being hurt by someone who is supposed to love them back, the trauma doesn’t end when the yelling stops. The damage settles deep inside you, like dust in the corners of your soul. You adapt by getting smaller, quieter, more careful and staying alert. You learn to read moods like weather forecasts and disappear when the thunder clouds start brewing.

This experience has a name, Childhood Domestic Violence, and includes witnessing physical violence and enduring its psychological aftermath. Children who experience verbal abuse, intimidation, emotional neglect, or parentification as a result of domestic violence are collateral victims.

If you…

• Felt afraid of coming home and stayed away as much a possible,

• Were relieved when one parent was not around,

• Hid your needs to avoid being a burden,

• Protected a parent or sibling from the other,

• Felt like you had to parent your own parent,

• Blamed yourself for keeping the peace or failing to do so,

• Or felt like you had to be small, quiet, or perfect just to stay safe

…you may be a child of domestic violence.

Many adult survivors hesitate to call their experiences abuse. The uncomfortable reality is, if your childhood home was ruled by unpredictability, rage, or fear, then you lived with violence and that experience shaped you, even if no one else acknowledges it happened.

Domestic Violence as an Adverse Childhood Experience

Childhood Domestic Violence happens when a child grows up in a home where one parent or caregiver harms the other through physical violence, verbal degradation, emotional manipulation, or coercive control. The American Academy of Pediatrics classifies this kind of exposure as one of the most toxic Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) a child can endure.

ACEs are traumatic events that occur before age 18 and increase the risk of serious lifelong health consequences. They include:

• Witnessing domestic violence

• Parental separation or incarceration

• Abuse, neglect, or household mental illness

• Substance use in the home

• Loss of a parent

The higher your ACE score, the greater your risk for depression, anxiety, addiction, chronic illness, and suicidal thoughts. But while ACEs are predictive, they’re not prescriptive and they don't determine who you are; they merely reflect what you have been through.

Effects of Childhood Domestic Violence

Children who grow up in environments characterized by domestic violence live in a state of chronic stress. Children's brains are highly adaptive but also deeply vulnerable. When exposed to violence in the home, a child's psyche will neurologically wire itself to manage the dysfunction and prioritize survival over growth and connection. Without healthy coping skills, children exposed to CDV learn to navigate the chaos through trauma responses like freeze, fawn, flight, or fight.

This could look like:

• Toddler and preschoolers may regress in speech or toileting, become clingy, or act out through defiance and tempter tantrums.

• Grade-school children may struggle in school, experience social anxiety, develop unexplained stomach aches or headaches, have trouble sleeping or rely heavily on dopamine-ladened activities (i.e., playing video games, scrolling YouTube, constant snacking) to self medicate through disassociation.

• Teens may become emotionally withdrawn, hypervigilant, or overly responsible. They may engage in risky behaviors or experiment with substances and sex earlier than their peers.

Interestingly, many trauma symptoms in children closely mimic other common behavioral disorders, such as ADHD, oppositional defiant disorder (ODD), or mood disorders. What looks like inattention or hyperactivity may actually be a nervous system in overdrive. These children are not disobedient, distracted or disruptive —they are dysregulated.

Studies have found that a substantial number of children, especially boys, diagnosed with ADHD have extensive histories of trauma exposure, and their behaviors were more accurately explained by as post-traumatic stress responses. Unfortunately, trauma is often overlooked in pediatric evaluations, and the right questions, such as "What has this child lived through?" simply are not asked.

When trauma is misread as a behavioral disorder, children may be medicated without receiving the trauma-informed care they actually need. Worse, they may come to believe that something is inherently wrong with them, rather than understanding that their reactions are normal responses to abnormal circumstances. This misunderstanding can delay healing and reinforce the internalized shame many survivors already carry.

The effects of CDV don't stay locked in the past either. These beliefs can quietly follow children into adulthood, affecting how they see themselves, others, and their place in the world. Having never experienced genuine, unconditional love, children exposed to domestic violence often equating love-bombing, future faking and possessive and controlling behaviors with intimacy. Without a model of healthy affection, manipulation can feel like attention, and control can masquerade as care. As a result, many find themselves inexplicably drawn to partners who mirror those early dynamics.

You Can’t Heal in the Environment That Hurt You

Chronic exposure to violence and fear sends children the message that their safety, needs, and emotional wellbeing don't matter. Instead of developing a strong identity and a secure sense of self, children learn to monitor everyone else’s reactions, suppress their own instincts, silence their emotions, and prioritize the needs of others over their own to avoid conflict. This survival strategy becomes a deeply ingrained pattern that can affect relationships even in adulthood. Trauma teaches children that love equals pain, that silence is safety, that they are unworthy of protection.

When a caregiver remains in an abusive relationship, even with the hope of preserving stability for the children, it severely compromises their protective capacity.  Many parents stay in violent homes believing it’s better for the kids to have “both parents” or for fear that they would not be able to provide for them alone. Children don’t need perfect parents, they need safe ones and there is no benefit to the presence of an abusive parent. In fact, homes with domestic violence are often also homes where children experience direct abuse, whether physical, verbal, or emotional. Leaving may be scary but staying can often be much more dangerous.

What Helps Children Heal

The single most important factor in a child’s recovery from trauma is the consistent presence of at least one nurturing adult who believes them and stands by them. Healing begins when someone tells them: “It wasn’t your fault.” That truth, repeated and reinforced, can begin to untangle years of guilt and shame. Children need to be heard, not fixed. They need space to grieve and make sense of what they’ve been through.

Trauma-informed therapy can help kids put language to their pain and develop tools to cope with anxiety, grief, and anger in healthy ways. Similarly, a parent modeling emotional regulation, naming feelings, apologizing when they mess up, and showing love through both presence and words can positively impact a child's healing and recovery from trauma.

Breaking the Cycle

Neuroscientist David Sousa writes, “One of our weaknesses as a species is that we start establishing our beliefs as children before we can choose them as adults.” Thankfully, the human brain is capable of rewiring. With intention, therapy, and supportive relationships, old beliefs can be replaced with healthier ones. Survivors are not doomed to repeat the past but must be given the tools, space, and support to unlearn it.

I don’t just write this from research, I write it from lived experience. Like many, my own early beliefs shaped my sense of worth long before I had the emotional maturity to recognize it. Growing up, I experienced treatment that taught me I mattered much less than others in my family. My half-brother and step-sister were never touched, but I regularly bore the brunt of the rage and violence. I learned early to be quiet, small, and invisible. I spent as little time at home as possible, finding comfort with my grandmother, sports teams, and friends. When forced to be home, I stayed in my room, hoping to avoid conflict by staying out of the way. Like the old saying goes, "Out of sight, out of mind".

I left as soon as I could, enlisting at 17, hoping distance would equate to safety. But patterns from my childhood followed me into adulthood. I found myself in a relationship that was eerily familiar. Love-bombing and future-faking gave way all too soon to criticism and condescension behind closed doors. One moment, I was idealized and placed on a pedestal. The next, I was demeaned. Similar to my childhood, the unpredictable moods, controlling and possessive tendencies, and cutting verbal attacks left me feeling both “too much” and “not enough” at the same time.

Our on-again, off-again relationship took a sharp turn when I was blindsided by the news of an unexpected pregnancy. The sudden shift in our trajectory left me wondering if it truly was accidental or a plan to secure the ultimate leverage. Freedom and wild nights were replaced by the heavy responsibilities of parenthood she clearly resented. Tension simmered between us, her harsh words and dismissive attitude reminding me I was simply a placeholder for someone better to come. I knew I was replaceable, but the fear of losing my children kept me tethered and powerless.

Over the years, I caught wind of things that shattered my trust and self-confidence even further. Whispers of late-night visitors while I worked, messages and photos shared in secret. Each painful discovery, whether rumor or reality, tore into the same old scar, the one that told me I didn’t matter.

The emotional and verbal warfare eventually escalated to physical conflict. Objects were thrown, and slaps landed sharp and sudden, followed by slammed doors and screeching tires. After each explosive outburst, silence would settle, a tense quiet I recognized from the past. There was no closure, no repair, no making amends. Just an unspoken agreement to pretend it never occurred. "Out of sight, out of mind."

And yet I stayed, not realizing how deeply my childhood had trained me to tolerate chaos. It took years for me to understand that love doesn’t threaten, devalue or humiliate and even longer to believe I deserved something better. But I did, and I still do.

Final Thoughts

If you grew up like this, it may feel like you're fated to repeat it. Like the chaos etched into your childhood has become a blueprint for your adult life. But it’s not. You are allowed to want more for yourself and for your children: more peace, more stability, more love that doesn’t bring pain as part of the package.

You’re allowed to set boundaries that protect your peace, even if those boundaries disappoint people who have benefitted from your silence. You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to unlearn survival patterns that once kept you safe but now keep you stuck. You’re allowed to become the parent you needed, the partner you never had, a version of yourself that feels authentic.

And if no one’s ever told you...

I see you. I believe you. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault.