Our family dynamic was a strange one, from my mother I have two other siblings, both younger. One brother. One sister. But from my father and my mother’s sister, I have one older sibling, one sister. All different ages..all different personalities…all different abuse.

I want to add, I am not here to tell their stories. There were many other occurrences and incidents that happened. But they are a part of my story and they will tell theirs when or if they want.

My mother really knew how to make us kids feel special…she even gave us our own specific abuse techniques.

My older sister…she had most of her abuse in terms of emotional, my mother really made her feel like she was not one of us because she was not her biological child, the constant ridicule and downplay of her importance. The repetitive comments and bullying. It really was a the best way my mother could get to her because physical abuse to a child that was not her own kind of held her back. But she still got a few swings in when she felt necessary. Which was when it was just convenient to her I guess. My older sister and I have had many falling outs but all in all we are stronger than ever in our adult ages and can now look back and raise our children different. There is other factors in her past that is not my story to tell.

My younger brother. My mother’s biological child. He is about 5 years younger than me. He as a child was the favorite. He was a boy. He got professional photos done…he was always happy…he got the love and attention from everyone including me. I loved that baby brother of mine. I fed him…changed him…played with him. He was my world. It was my job to protect him. As he was growing up, he loved to be goofy and make people laugh…he still does. But some of the things he did, my mother portrayed as inappropriate and girly. She despised it. She could not have a “gay” son. She had always said that to the people coming over or to family. She thought she could change him…she thought she could mold him into someone he was not. She constantly ridiculed him and threatened him. She would always tell him that he is going to the psych ward so they could “fix” him. She would hit him, saying she was going to “beat the gay out”, the worst part was…he had no idea why she was doing these things to him, he didn’t know what gay was, he didn’t know how to change himself for her. Her abuse for him was mentally, emotionally, and verbally draining and I could see it in his eyes. As he grew up I noticed that he would go to family’s and friends houses as much as possible to escape the hurt and betrayal of his own mother. I was able to breathe better knowing he could get away.

My younger sister. My mother’s biological daughter. She is about 7 years younger than me. When she was born, she was like a baby doll. She was so tiny. She was beautiful. I feared what would happen to her. I thought when my brother was born, it would just be me that she hated but turns out it was just her kids I guess. So I hoped and prayed it would be different for my baby sister. Hoped that she would not have to go through what we all went through. And for a while she didn’t. I was able to be happy when I was around her knowing she was safe with my mother. Well..that changed when she was about 4-5 years old. That is the first time I watched my mom drag her tiny body up the stairs by her hair. Every piece of happiness left my body hearing her scream. I watched my mother hurt the only child that I thought she accepted. And that broke me. As the years went on she slowly progressed to verbally, mentally, and physically abusing her. And every time I would always step in and offer to take the beating for my siblings. My little sister was the athletic one, she was able to escape with cheerleading and friends. But later on in life she was introduced to my mother’s drug addiction, she watched my mother consistently use and abuse drugs and was put in very unsafe conditions with grown men and drug addicts. But my sister was always the one to try and forgive her. She is the one that gave her chance after chance and was let down every time. I tried to be there…I tried to pick up the pieces…I tried to protect her. She took that as me trying to replace my mother. She resented me in many ways.

All of my siblings are doing well in their adult lives. Some have babies, one is traveling and making new friends, we are all in good terms. But at the end of the day my mother really messed us all up. There is a piece of all of us wondering why we were never good enough. Why we weren’t worth the love. Why we didn’t deserve a mother who wanted us.

To my siblings: You are enough. You are amazing. You are worth it. You are loved. You are my world! I love you!