Over Thirty Years Later, the Truth Gets Its Own Page
For most of my life, I carried my sibling’s ugliness in silence. I told myself it was to keep the peace, to be the “bigger person,” to avoid making things worse. The truth is, it kept me small. It kept me quiet. It kept me living under the weight of other people’s cruelty, control, and revisionist history.
My sister(s)- the people the world assumed were my closest allies were often my sharpest critics, my harshest judges, and sometimes my most relentless bullies. The abuse came in many forms: gaslighting so extreme I questioned my own memories, explosive outbursts that left me shaken, subtle digs dressed up as “jokes,” and long stretches of calculated silence meant to punish. Over the years, I was called names, belittled, dismissed, and made to feel like I was always the problem- no matter how careful, kind, or accommodating I tried to be.
And still, I stayed silent.
But silence doesn’t erase what happened. It only protects the abuser and isolates the person being abused. I realized that by keeping it all hidden, I was playing a role in my own erasure.
So today, that stops.
This isn’t a single post, because what’s been done to me over decades cannot be contained in a few paragraphs. The manipulation, the cruelty, the “I never said that” denials- I have the receipts. And they deserve their own space. A permanent page where anyone who wants to understand the truth can see the words for themselves, exactly as they were sent. No edits. No spin. No gaslighting possible.
This page isn’t about vengeance. It’s about clarity. It’s about showing the reality behind the carefully maintained family façade. It’s about finally stepping out of the role I was assigned- the silent one, the one who absorbs the blows and keeps smiling- and speaking in my own voice.
For over thirty years, only one version of the story was told.
Now, the record is here. In their own words.
