Longtime readers know I think the world of my folks. You also know I’ve alluded to challenges of an older sibling in different posts.
What I alluded to was actually physical and mental abuse by that sibling. Not aimed at me, but as the youngest, it affected me deeply in so many ways. Ways I’m still trying to mitigate to this day, and obviously fail at times.
I don’t know what mental illness that sibling has as there is ‘nothing wrong with them’, and based on the era and what they knew then, I don’t think what was given was even close, or it was just incomplete. I can’t begin to describe what it was like day to day, and even if there was a dx, doubtful they would have taken the meds. In fact, based on past experience, I know they wouldn’t have.
Over the years the physical abuse tapered off, but the emotional abuse and the manipulation just became more finely honed, targeted to weak spots. Even from afar and recognising it for what it is, it sunk in, it still leaves it’s mark, limited as it is now.
I understand why people rehome their children. I also don’t. Yet, I sometimes wonder who I’d be if that had happened in our family, would it have been better, or worse. For years I’ve thought it would have been worse for me, making me fear that shadow that is always there in the background, ever waiting to remind me that I’d been abandoned once, that it could happen again would become even stronger. Now I don’t know which would have been better for me, but I also know mom and dad couldn’t have lived with giving up on a child they adopted, just not who they were.
Life is complicated. We do what we have to so we survive for another day.