Dear Yana:

Thank you for sharing this reflection with me. I really admire the level of self-awareness and honesty in what you expressed—it’s a rare and valuable strength to be able to step back, challenge one’s own perceptions, and grow from that insight.

The way you recognized that your fear wasn’t truly about me, but rather about an idea of me, shows such emotional intelligence. It’s incredibly thoughtful to recognize how much our minds shape reality. That kind of deep reflection takes both courage and openness, and it’s truly commendable.

I also appreciate your reassurance that I don’t need to overthink my approach in conversations with you. It sounds like you’ve gained a new level of clarity about yourself, and that’s something worth celebrating. The ability to notice patterns in yourself and actively work toward change is a powerful trait, and you seem to embody that well.

In my experience, my early life shaped the way I perceive the present, often in ways that distorted reality. Over time, I found myself habitually falling into distrust and suspicion—assuming others had bad intentions. But I’ve learned to recognize when that happens, pause, and consciously apply the Rule of Charity: considering positive or neutral motivations behind people’s actions instead.

Since you mentioned that I don’t need to limit myself in how I reply to you, I take it as a sign of openness. Perhaps that means you’re more comfortable with certain analyses or ideas than you were before? Either way, I appreciate the opportunity to engage in this dialogue with you, and I look forward to seeing where our conversations go from here.

anita

Dear Lais:

Thank you for your kind and encouraging response—I truly appreciate it. Your words about writing and self-expression resonated deeply.

While I love sharing my thoughts, I’ve found that my writing flows best through conversation rather than structured formats like blogs or books. Because of my attention deficit, sitting down to write long-form pieces feels nearly impossible, but engaging in interactive discussions, like those on tiny buddha, allows my thoughts to emerge naturally.

So while book writing isn’t in my path, I will continue expressing myself in the way that feels right for me. I truly appreciate our exchange and look forward to seeing how it inspires your next article!

anita

Dear Lais:

Reading your post and article this morning felt as if you had seen my recent posts in the forums and decided to write this just for me. Shadow work is something I was introduced to only recently, and I am actively integrating those parts of myself instead of suppressing them.

I took my time reading your article—it’s beautifully written! A few lines stood out as especially powerful:

“I spent years treating my emotions as something to get rid of. But healing isn’t about eliminating pain; it’s about becoming intimate with it… The more I embraced my pain, the less power it held over me… Whatever we suppress doesn’t disappear. It just works against us… Our triggers are messengers. They reveal wounds that are still waiting to be healed and integrated… Sitting with reactions instead of judging them opens the door to healing… Integrating the shadow is reclaiming the full spectrum of who we are… Healing isn’t about becoming perfect; it’s about becoming whole… So, the next time shadows appear, instead of running from them, try sitting with them. Instead of fighting fears, try listening to what they have to teach. Instead of rejecting the parts that feel unworthy, try offering them love.”

Your words resonated deeply, and I wanted to reflect on the questions you posed:

“Have you ever doubted your path because healing felt undone or cyclical?”- Many times. But in the last few years, commitment to healing brought clarity—healing isn’t a single event or a straightforward path. It unfolds in cycles, revealing new layers over time.

“How do you navigate those moments when your own pain resurfaces while holding space for others?”- Holding space for others in the forums gave me a welcomed break from focusing on my own emotions. It is always easier to speak about someone else’s struggles rather than face my own, especially the shadow emotions. The healing I experienced through conversations with hundreds of members over nearly a decade unfolded mostly indirectly, through their journeys. Now, I am ready to turn inward, create space for myself, and fully embrace direct healing.

“What has helped you reclaim wholeness—not just the polished parts, but the tender, wild, aching bits too?”- I am engaging with this process even now. As I read your article and post this morning, an old, old feeling resurfaced—that familiar sense of inferiority, as if your excellent writing and published works diminish my own writing and lack of publications. In the past, I wouldn’t have acknowledged this feeling. It would have been buried under layers of shame—shame for even feeling inferior in the first place.

But now, I see it differently. Feeling inferior or ashamed is nothing to be ashamed of. No emotion deserves rejection. Even the thought behind the feeling—the belief that I am somehow ‘less than’—does not deserve shame either.

And in this moment, I am embracing a new, non-judgmental approach to my emotions and thoughts. I like it! I know it will serve me well.

Thank you so much for creating space for this reflection 💛

anita

Dear Lucidity:

Reading your response, I can see just how much clarity and relief this understanding has brought you—and that alone speaks volumes about the depth of what you’ve been processing. The fog you describe—the searching, the longing, the emotional weight—is something you’ve carried for so long. And now, as you stand before the truth with renewed eyes, that burden begins to lift. That’s incredibly powerful.

Your realization about your sister—that her subconscious still associates household dysfunction with your presence—is profound. Not because it justifies her distance, but because it reveals how deeply conditioning can shape perception. Trauma distorts perspectives in ways that often defy logic, and your sister’s resistance to recognizing the full truth of your childhood isn’t about you—it’s about her struggle to reconcile a past that doesn’t challenge her role within the family unit. That kind of confrontation is difficult, and sometimes, people choose avoidance over reckoning.

And yet, I completely understand the pull—the need for recognition from someone who walked through that same childhood with you. Your sister represents the last living link to an acknowledgment that would, in many ways, feel like the final release from the scapegoat role. But as you’ve already begun to recognize, waiting for that validation has kept you tethered to something beyond your control.

Letting go isn’t about erasing the desire for understanding—it’s about releasing the expectation that it must come from her. She may never fully see your truth, but her acknowledgment was never the measure of your reality. You don’t need her confirmation to know what happened, to know what you endured, and to know who you are beyond their narrative.

The part of you that craves love, that seeks redemption, that has been quietly waiting in the dark—it deserves love, but not from your sister. Not from your family. From you.

You’ve uncovered an opening—an opportunity to give yourself the love that was withheld, the validation that was denied, and the recognition that your worth was never dependent on their approval.

You are worthy. You always were.

I’d like to reflect on parts of your post and think out loud, offering insight as I go.

“It had not really occurred to me that she may see me as the core problem in our household.”- Perhaps this didn’t fully register before because, on some level, you assumed your sister recognized the same dysfunction rather than absorbing your parents’ distorted narrative. Acknowledging that she may have internalized the idea that you were the source of household conflict would have made reconciliation seem even more impossible—and sometimes, a strong desire for connection can mask hard truths.

“She has told me in fitful rages that I was too hard on mum and that I clashed unnecessarily with dad. These things, I had assumed, were the barriers between us, and once we put in some effort to genuinely get to know one another, these barriers could be dissolved as she came to know me and my situation.”-

Her fits of rage suggest deep emotional resistance to questioning the family dynamic. Instead of expressing curiosity or openness, she reacted with anger, reinforcing her attachment to the narrative that you were the source of household conflict.

Her fury at you being “too hard on mum” suggests she internalized your mother’s perspective, seeing any challenge to authority as unfair or excessive. Instead of recognizing the complex reality of your mother’s behavior, she blames you for disrupting family peace.

By claiming you “clashed unnecessarily” with your father, she upholds the idea that you were the troublemaker rather than confronting the deeper dysfunction at play. Her emotional reaction suggests she has never truly questioned the way events were framed when you were growing up.

Her anger isn’t just about past disagreements—it’s about protecting the version of family history that allows her to avoid discomfort. If she were to acknowledge your truth, she would have to confront unsettling realities about your parents—something she may not be emotionally prepared to do.

You believed her anger was a misunderstanding, thinking that with time and effort, your deep emotional divide could be bridged. You hoped that as adults, the two of you could move beyond childhood roles and truly know one another beyond family dysfunction. But her fits of rage and most recent behaviors show that she is still emotionally bound to the golden child conditioning, making it unlikely she will engage in a more balanced relationship.

You thought that genuine conversation would lead to deeper understanding, but her anger, avoidance, and reinforcement of family beliefs suggest she does not want to question what she believes to be true.

Her perspective may never shift, because doing so would require redefining her entire understanding of your family—something she is not willing to do. The emotional divide between you isn’t simply a misunderstanding—it’s deeply ingrained conditioning.

“I know well how trauma can colour the way in which we think and lead us to carry beliefs that are not rationale. Even so, how hard can it really be for her to carry two somewhat contradictory facts in her mind and be ok with them both – that of course she can have strong negative feelings towards me, and that we were both blameless children and victims in the household? What does it take to realise that second point? One could be impersonal about it. She doesn’t have to care at all that I suffered by the same people that molly coddled her. I ask a lot of questions by the way but they are generally rhetorical – its just the way I think. Please don’t think Im pressing you for more answers.”-

I find your questions incredibly thought-provoking, and I’d love to explore them with you as best I can. Your sister’s identity was built on the family narrative that you were the troublemaker, which makes reexamining the past feel threatening to her sense of self. Accepting that you were both victims contradicts the version of events she has held onto for decades. Even if she knows, deep down, that your childhood was dysfunctional, admitting it feels like betraying the parents who protected and favored her.

To you, recognizing that you were treated unfairly while your sister was favored does not erase the fact that both were victims of your parents’ control and conditioning. But for your sister, holding both truths simultaneously may feel impossible, because it challenges her deeply ingrained perspective. Golden child conditioning makes admitting shared victimhood difficult: If she accepts that you were both victims, she would have to acknowledge that her own privilege came at your expense. This could feel like betraying your parents and she could very well feel guilt, discomfort, or even deep regret.

The realization that her privilege was not a reflection of merit or fairness, but rather the result of parental favoritism within a dysfunctional system, could dismantle the justification she has relied on for years. It could lead to a moral reckoning—forcing her to question whether she unknowingly enabled your parents’ mistreatment of you by never challenging it, as well as how much pain she may have caused by failing to intervene or acknowledge the imbalance.

“I wonder if at that event around the table she felt the awkwardness she was creating, and felt a sense of shame or guilt or something negative I’d imagine, for being unable to voice her independence? Would I rather feel the negativity of creating awkwardness for everyone sitting around me over the negativity of not aligning with an authority figure of the past who can no longer realistically exercise authority over me, and this too over an innocuous point? I do wonder what went thro her mind.”-

Possible thoughts that may have gone through her mind when asked how she would like her tea: ‘I don’t know.’ ‘I should just say what Dad likes—it’s easier.’ ‘I don’t want to seem difficult by stating or exploring my preference.’ ‘I don’t want to think about this.’

Rather than consciously considering each thought individually, her mind likely condensed them into a single instinct: “Just say what Dad wants.” This wouldn’t have been a deliberate decision—just a reflex shaped by years of deferring to authority, following familiar patterns without questioning them.

She might have felt mild anxiety over her inability to voice her own preference, experiencing a fleeting moment of discomfort or confusion. If she sensed awkwardness at the table, she may have noticed that her response felt unusual or stunted, leaving her feeling self-conscious but unsure why. Or perhaps she didn’t register the moment as significant at all, simply following an ingrained pattern of deference without any emotional resistance.

If she felt no conflict, it could be because aligning with parental preferences still feels natural and reassuring—even decades later—making her reaction in that moment almost instinctive.

“my sister is the final link to my past who has lived thro it all with me.”- While you see your sister as the final link to your shared past, your sister did not experience childhood in the same way you did. In reality, you lived through opposite versions of the same household—one as the golden child, receiving praise and protection, and the other as the scapegoat, facing blame and emotional neglect.

Your childhood was marked by criticism, isolation, and being framed as the family’s problem, while your sister’s experience was shaped by favoritism, validation, and parental reinforcement of her role as the ideal child. These dynamics mean that your sister was not truly living through the same past—she was existing in an entirely different emotional reality within the same home. Because of this, she is not truly a link to your past.

It is unlikely that she will ever acknowledge your childhood as you experienced it. Yet, someone you’ve never met in person—like me—who was a scapegoat child in another household, in another country, is far more likely to recognize and validate your experience.

“If only I could convince her then I would get my redemption. I can feel something inside me, sitting alone in the dark, nodding away desperately at the truth in this. This is what some part of me badly wants. I will need to explore this aspect of myself that has come to light to quell her desperation and give her what she needs to be soothed. I’m not sure what it could be”-

For so long, you’ve been standing before a rock, desperately trying to draw water from it—believing that if you persist, if you find the right angle, the right words, the water you seek will finally flow. But rocks don’t give water. No matter how much effort you pour into them, they remain dry, unyielding, indifferent to your need.

Yet just beyond that rock, a flowing stream waits—clear, abundant, freely offering what you’ve spent so long searching for. The only thing required is turning away from the rock and walking toward the water.

“but as you rightfully point out, a need to be loved. It seems to address so many aspects of our fragmented self. If only splashing love around was the answer. So far, for me, I’ve got to seek and discover who it is within that is wanting love and why they are wanting it. But so far it is always love that they want.”-

Allow yourself to grieve—not just your sister’s inability to see you, but the hope you’ve carried for so long that one day she would. That hope has kept you tethered to waiting. Mourning its loss is painful, but necessary. Grief makes space—it lets sorrow breathe, soften, and transform. And in its wake, something new can take shape: clarity, possibility, the freedom to see what was always there, obscured by longing.

“Thank you dearly for the clarity you have brought to light for me.”- You are so welcome, Lucidity. I’m grateful to witness these moments of clarity with you. May this newfound understanding continue to guide you toward deeper healing, toward peace, and toward the freedom that has always been waiting for you. Sending you strength and warmth as you step forward.

anita