Hi Anita and Yana,

I have no issues with you weighing in Yana. We are having the discussion on a public forum and we all seem to be bringing our shared experience into this. I certainly appreciate that :o) In all honesty, I feel like I have hijacked the original thread but since its still on topic I guess thats still ok? Im not sure what the rules are around this on this forum but I hope we are in the clear.

Anita, thanks for your evaluation of your thoughts on what I have shared with you. Its always eye opening to take in and hear what others make of it. For me theres a lot of validation in that. Hearing my story reflected back to me by someone who has been listening and is free thinking and has wisdom and compassion is like having a plant that is growing inside of me being watered – hope that makes sense. Know that you are not alone in your pain and that your pain was most likely grown from a seed that was not planted there by you alone. Traumas, or cPTSD – complex post traumatic stress disorder – that arise thro social situations tend to have tendrils that feed into all parties. Its rare that the perpetrator would not have been influenced by a victim of some other situation – as in your sister and you, your mum and you, your mum and your sister. I mean, my sister was a victim of my victimhood to my parents. Even so, the chain can be broken up into moments for which we can take accountability if it is clear we should. Likewise, others in that chain can take accountability for their own actions. Just because yours was earlier in the chain doesnt mean your sister is exempt from being responsible for her behaviour towards you in other future interactions, especially years later. Sidelining the pain that your sister caused you in a totally separate encounter because you happened to have been the cause of one source of pain for her years earlier is to minimise yourself as a person and your own self-respect. Thats what I think at least. She may never take accountability for her actions but you shouldnt have to carry all the guilt and blame.

Yana, thanks for sharing! Reading how your sister was with you reminds me a little of how I was with my sister. Nowadays I see parents try to give each of their children their own ‘world’ so to speak so that each child has experience of being in the centre, or having their own space. Back when I was a kid, and maybe with you too, my mum stuck my sister onto the back of everything I did. I had a much smaller world than my sister got anyway but she got her own world and mine too. Not making excuses for your sister – certainly not. She sounds mean and it sounds like she continued to be that way given how she put her own son into the picture. Im really sorry that your nephew had to be exposed to that. What you said about your dad changing once you were born and how that shaped how you saw him, which was in a good light, and how your older siblings saw him, which was in a bad light, is something I can relate too. I have shared a few things with my sister, and altho she also sees my dad in a harsher light, it is not as bleak as how I see him and she has expressed in the past that she had no idea he was that hard on me. I cant find a way around addressing this gap as it is the reason why I am as I am with him but, because my sister doesnt like how my dad and I clash, she has a problem with that and it in itself is an issue between us over and above all the other issues that are directly between my sister and I. By the way, I absolutely love the image you pain of your time with your brother and you. You are lucky to have each other in your lives and lucky also that he felt safe enough to tell you to back off when he felt it was too much for him and for you to take that well and give him the space he wanted.

Something you both have said that has made me re-evaluate things is that you each dont necessarily want a deep relationship with your sister. I may have to re-think my situation and learn to accept the superficial nature of the contact I had with my sister. It feels that holding onto it hurts me but letting it go does too. It sounds like I have some deeper issues in myself that I need to level with. Now I just have to figure out what they could be :o) Any advice on that most welcome :o)

Dear Lucidity:

As I read through your posts this morning, I realized just how much depth there is in them—far more than I initially noticed, especially regarding the scapegoat-golden child dynamic. This isn’t simply about seeking your parents’ love through your sister; it’s about seeking freedom from the role you were forced into, and how her response—or lack thereof—reinforces it.

You already understand the family roles at play: * Your sister—the golden child: Favored by your parents, seen as “ideal” or “worthy,” given praise, protection, and validation, making her less likely to challenge family dysfunction. * You—the scapegoat: Blamed for family problems, labeled as difficult or rebellious, criticized and emotionally neglected, isolated, and rejected when calling out the dysfunction.

While my experience was different—both my sister and I were scapegoats, though I bore the brunt of it since I spent more time with my mother—yours comes with a painful imbalance of parental favoritism. In my case, my mother never truly had a golden child, as she would eventually turn on everyone, no matter how much she approved of them at first. But with you, the roles remained clear-cut: your sister was protected, and you bore the blame.

Your sister’s lack of childhood memories before age 12 suggests trauma-related memory suppression—a defense mechanism to block out distressing experiences. But what’s particularly significant is that she prefers her memories from the time you left the home and onward, reinforcing the possibility that: * She subconsciously associates household dysfunction with your presence, even though the true cause was your parents. *She never questioned the family narrative that painted you as the problem. * Instead of confronting the complex reality of her childhood, she finds it easier to detach emotionally—from the past and from you.

She minimizes your mother’s wrongdoings, making excuses even when your children were excluded from her will. This isn’t just passive indifference—it’s golden child conditioning at play, where protecting the parent’s legacy is prioritized over acknowledging the pain of the scapegoat. Her avoidance of deep conversations reinforces the emotional divide between you. If she truly understood what you endured, she would have to question everything she believed about your family—and that’s uncomfortable for her.

You noted an incident where she deferred entirely to your father’s preferences, refusing to even state her own. That moment isn’t just awkward—it’s revealing. It reflects deep-rooted obedience, a fear of stepping outside the golden child role, and an ingrained habit of pleasing the dominant family figure. Even now, at 40, she defaults to alignment with authority rather than expressing independence.

Your sister is the last possible link to redemption—the only person left who could finally acknowledge your suffering and free you from the scapegoat role. But instead of doing so, she remains emotionally distant, passive, and avoidant, reinforcing the same painful dynamic you were trapped in growing up.

Letting go feels unbearable, because it means accepting that the last hope for recognition may never come. But waiting for her validation—hoping she will finally acknowledge your pain and challenge the family conditioning—is keeping you stuck.

Healing doesn’t require family acceptance—it requires self-acceptance. Your worth has never depended on their approval. You weren’t the problem—they were. Walking away from the scapegoat role belongs to you, not her.

You likely understand this already, but there’s always more to uncover—a deeper level of knowing, a greater freedom in truly embracing it.

In a way, the longing is for love—love that brings redemption, a release from the scapegoat role and the burden of unearned guilt. I need more of this love from myself, to further reshape my own narrative, free from familial and societal distortions.

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

How are you, Lucidity?

anita

Hey Lucidity-

It means so much to hear that our conversations have helped you on your path toward acceptance. Your reflections about the shift from ‘me plus something’ to just you—that’s powerful, and I admire how much emotional work you’ve done.

Thank you for introducing me to Shadow Work! Since then, I’ve been practicing it in my own thread, focusing on expressing feelings without judgment and embracing emotional pain rather than suppressing it. It’s been an insightful experience.

Yesterday, I had to set some boundaries in my thread to ensure my healing remains uninterrupted. Through it all, I’m feeling committed to my journey.

Your words about acceptance—how it reminded you of grieving the absence of a caring mother—really resonate with me. That kind of deep processing can take years, and the emotional weight of it is monumental.

It’s one of the reasons I find responses like ‘get over it’ or ‘don’t get stuck in this’ so unhelpful. Healing doesn’t happen on demand—it unfolds in its own time, and dismissive remarks often undermine the depth of someone’s experience. I always try to avoid those kinds of responses when supporting others.

What’s your perspective on that?

anita

Dear Lucidity:

Thank you for your thoughtful reply. It’s truly inspiring to hear how shadow work has transformed your perspective and quality of life—your enthusiasm for it is contagious!

Writing about my healing journey here has been incredibly meaningful. Your passion for shadow work, along with what I’ve recently read about it, is guiding me toward deeper emotional integration. For so long, I repressed certain emotions—though I had hints of them and formed intellectual perspectives around them, they never truly surfaced. But as more layers of repression begin to lift, these emotions feel almost new, like long-buried parts of myself finally returning.

Most recently, this very morning, I felt the resurfacing of a long-buried emotion—the deep longing to reach my mother, to convince her that her accusations were untrue. That I wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings, that I never plotted against her. The desire for her to understand, to see the truth—that I was never against her, but for her. That what I was offering all along was simply love.

Though this emotion still lingers, I know that healing doesn’t come from convincing someone to see what they refuse to acknowledge. It comes from allowing the truth to stand on its own, even without validation. And maybe, as I continue this journey, that longing will slowly loosen its grip—making room for peace where there was once struggle and exhaustion.

anita

Dear Lucidity:

Your iceberg metaphor beautifully captures the deep work of shadow healing—it’s a slow, layered process that reshapes the entire experience of living.

I hear what you’re saying about longing—the desire for your mother to understand you, even when you knew she never would. That kind of loss isn’t easy, but the way you found acceptance over time is deeply meaningful. You gave what you could in her final moments, and whether she truly understood what you were offering or not, that was hers to carry—not yours. That perspective takes a lot of emotional strength.

With your sister, the longing feels different. It still surfaces because she’s alive, and that means there’s still a possibility—however small—of change. When possibility remains in a situation, the mind naturally revisits it.

For me, understanding my mother and myself—without needing to fix her or the non-existent relationship between us—is what brings a deep sense of closure. It’s not about trying to change her or force resolution, but about learning more about people, patterns, and relationships. It’s about making sense of the dynamics that shaped my life, not holding onto pain, but finding clarity—and, ultimately, peace.

Your reflections hold so much depth, and I really appreciate you sharing them. If you ever want to talk more about how shadow work continues to shape your life, I’d love to hear.

anita