How Emotional (Covert) Incest Creates Codependency, Guilt, and Identity Confusion

AI Generated Image via DALL-E

There are certain words or phrases that hit us hard when we first hear them - not because they are aggressive or shocking, but because they name something we never realised needed naming. "Emotional incest" or "Covert incest" is one of those terms. It may sound heavy or extreme, but it speaks to something that happens far more often than we talk about: a deep blurring of roles within a parent-child relationship, where emotional needs and boundaries become dangerously tangled.

First, let’s be clear - emotional incest is not about sexual abuse. It is, however, a serious form of emotional boundary violation. It happens when a parent leans on their child in a way that isn’t appropriate for the child’s developmental stage. The child is put in a role more suited to a peer, partner, or therapist. They are expected, whether explicitly or implicitly, to hold space for the parent’s emotional needs, regulate their moods, and act as a sounding board for adult worries and concerns. In short, the child becomes emotionally responsible for the adult.

It often begins quietly. Maybe it starts when one parent vents to the child about the other, or constantly shares intimate emotional struggles, leaving the child feeling like they must fix things or be the source of comfort. Over time, the child internalises the message that their role is to emotionally support or even manage the parent. The weight of this expectation is crushing, even if it's never spoken aloud.

Why does this happen? Often, it stems from a parent who is themselves emotionally immature, wounded, or lacking the support of other adults. In some cases, it's a single parent with no partner to lean on. In others, it's a parent in a dysfunctional marriage, looking for understanding or validation they can't get from their spouse. Rather than turning to a friend, therapist, or adult sibling, they turn to their child. But a child is not meant to hold that kind of emotional responsibility. It distorts their development, overwhelms their nervous system, and confuses their understanding of relationships. Children caught in emotional incest don’t usually know something is wrong. Often, they feel special or important, like they’re their parent’s favourite or trusted confidant. They may feel proud to be so needed or relied upon. But underneath that closeness is a deep tension - a pressure to be perfect, to not upset their parent, and to keep being "good" so they don’t lose that fragile connection. Over time, this dynamic creates confusion, guilt, and anxiety, all buried under the surface of what looks like a close bond.

And the effects can be long-lasting. As the child grows into adulthood, the impact of emotional incest tends to show up in subtle but powerful ways. They may become chronic people-pleasers, always prioritising others’ needs and ignoring their own. They may struggle with boundaries, unsure where others end and they begin. They often feel intense guilt when they try to set limits or put themselves first, because deep down, they’ve learned that love means sacrifice. They may also struggle with identity - never having learned who they really are outside of being someone else's emotional caretaker. Decisions can feel paralysing. Relationships feel heavy. And there may be an underlying fear that if they stop giving, they will no longer be loved.

One striking cultural example of emotional incest appears in the British sitcom Sorry! from the 1980s, starring Ronnie Corbett as Timothy. The show is comedic in nature, but the underlying dynamics are all too real. Timothy is a grown man, well into middle age, who still lives at home with his overbearing and emotionally manipulative mother, Phyllis. She infantilises him, controls his choices, and uses guilt to keep him from gaining independence. She frames her control as love, but it becomes clear over time that she relies on Timothy to meet her own emotional needs, keeping him emotionally stuck and stunted. He is never free to grow into his own life. What makes Sorry! particularly poignant is that Timothy is not an unambitious or lazy man - he is someone trapped by the emotional expectations of a parent who needs him too much. He is not angry, but hesitant. He is not rebellious, but deeply conflicted. His longing for autonomy is always in tension with his fear of hurting or abandoning his mother. This is what emotional incest often feels like from the inside: a constant tug-of-war between the desire for freedom and the crushing guilt of disappointing someone you were never meant to be responsible for in the first place.

You might also see similar dynamics in more dramatic or modern portrayals. Think of the Bates family in Bates Motel, where Norman and Norma have an enmeshed, emotionally dependent relationship that goes from confusing to toxic. Or consider Gilmore Girls, where Lorelai and Rory’s close friendship-like bond is often praised, but also raises questions about appropriate boundaries and the pressure that can be placed on a child to become a parent’s peer or partner in life. All of these examples, fictional as they may be, reflect real experiences. They highlight the cost of emotional enmeshment: the loss of childhood, the loss of emotional independence, and the struggle to form a clear, separate identity.

AI Generated Image via DALL-E

So how does someone begin to heal from emotional incest?

It starts with awareness. Naming the dynamic for what it was - not in a spirit of blame, but in one of clarity and self-understanding. Recognising that you were placed in a role that was never yours to carry. That you were expected to regulate emotions and provide support before you were even fully formed.

Next comes permission. Giving yourself the right to set boundaries, to say no, to step back from emotional caretaking roles you’ve always assumed were yours. This can be terrifying, especially if your worth has always felt tied to being needed. But boundaries are not rejection. They are self-protection.

Therapy can be an invaluable part of this process, especially with a therapist who understands trauma, enmeshment, and family systems. It can offer a safe place to explore your own identity, separate from the needs of others. It can help you learn to tolerate the discomfort that often comes with prioritising your own needs, and to process the grief that may come with setting limits with a parent you still love. And grief is part of this journey. Grief for the childhood you didn’t get to fully live. Grief for the unconditional care you didn’t receive. Grief for the role you were given instead of the one you deserved. But with that grief also comes growth. You begin to reclaim the parts of yourself that got lost in someone else’s story. You begin to define what your own healthy relationships look and feel like. You start to learn that you don’t have to perform or please to be worthy of love.

The journey out of emotional incest is not quick or easy, but it is deeply transformative. You are allowed to be whole. You are allowed to have needs, feelings, limits, and dreams that belong only to you. You are not selfish for pulling away. You are not cruel for saying no. You are healing. And healing means making space for yourself, maybe for the first time.

If any part of this resonates with you, know that you are not alone. Many people have walked this path, untangling themselves from roles they never asked for. You don’t have to stay trapped in someone else’s emotional world. You are allowed to step into your own.

And as you do, remember: it was never your job to carry your parent’s emotional burden. But it is your right to carry yourself forward - with compassion, with courage, and with the hope of something freer, fuller, and more truly your own.