The Truth That Cannot Be Erased
For over a decade, this space has been my witness. For a multitude of reasons, outside of what has been designated as my willfullness and lack of gratitude, I have never been a pleasing or “quiet” victim sufferer. By around age eleven, I understood that my highest goal in life was to become someone else—or to become more palatable while absorbing abuse. I failed equally at both. I sought and gave myself to many similarly toxic situationships, I suppose, in the name of practice and growth in the art of better abuse-getting.
The Reality of the Scapegoat
As a neurodivergent survivor of childhood trauma and sibling molestation, my so-called “hysteria” was the only language available to me in an environment that protected my abuser and pathologized my pain. My sister was endorsed as the golden child. I was left to navigate the wreckage of her actions alone. She was praised for not being like me and pitied for having to deal with my “drama.”
The Refusal to Be Gaslit
This blog documents my experience as the family scapegoat—the person who could not believe or pretend that the “flow” was good. I was encouraged to calm down, be positive, grateful, you know- JUST go with the flow, even when that flow was designed to drown me.
A Legacy of Resistance
My “tantrums” were protests. My “outbursts” were the sound of a person being erased in real time. I write about the dirty and unsurprising alliance between an abusive sister and a similarly narcissistic ex-husband for what it is: a coordinated effort which denied me peace and my children.
The Record for My Sons
I am not begging for a seat at a table where I am not respected. I keep this record so my children may one day understand that their mother was not “unhinged” simply as a defect. She was unsupported, overstimulated, and being crushed by a system she could not fathom.
A Note on My Methods of Survival
In earlier chapters, I used my sister’s full name and shared specific accounts of professional and personal abuse, including details she offered as warning shots about how she handles uncooperative others. I did this frantically, without a playbook on navigating coercive abuse or even any idea that coercive abuse was a thing. I did so without a support system.
I am not proud of the desperation that shaped those posts. But I am not ashamed of how I reacted to being molested, scapegoated, and erased. I was a person without a net, doing the only that I could—telling my truth- raging against those who harmed and silenced and erased me. In the only space I can.
This space is a sanctuary, a place where we cannot be silenced or erased. If my experiences or sentiments resonate with you and you feel like sharing or connecting, please feel free to reach out. No pressure, always, I’m down to listen. Message me anytime 🤍🤍🤍 wholesomebadass@gmail.com
