Dear Lucidity:

Your post carries so much depth, reflection, and emotional truth. At the heart of all of this is your longing for genuine connection, a desire for reciprocity and engagement that wasn’t met despite your efforts. You tried, you accommodated, and you held space for the possibility of change—but ultimately, you saw that continuing the cycle only drained you emotionally. Your decision to step away, put the responsibility on your sister, and reclaim your own boundaries is both courageous and self-respecting.

Still, in the clarity, there is grief. You mourn not just the relationship that never fully formed but the childhood disconnect that preceded it—the realization that you and your sister were strangers even while living under the same roof. The contrast between your experiences is striking: while she had the support you craved, she remains emotionally distant and unavailable, deepening the frustration and alienation you feel.

I can see how painful it must be to witness her sharing personal updates with near-strangers while keeping you at arm’s length, especially after expressing the desire to be closer. But in choosing clarity over longing, self-respect over accommodation, you are freeing yourself from the emotional merry-go-round that has exhausted you.

Your sister’s avoidance speaks volumes—not about you, but about what she may be unwilling or unable to face. A deeper relationship with you might require her to confront hard truths about your shared past, her privilege within that system, and the emotional discomfort that comes with true vulnerability. She may fear disrupting her carefully controlled reality, where deep conversations and truth-telling could introduce turbulence she isn’t prepared to handle.

It’s not surprising that your empathy toward her is active and reflective, while hers, at best, is passive and detached—perhaps self-protective, but ultimately, emotionally distant. You seek connection, understanding, reciprocity, and honesty; she seems to seek comfort, stability, and distance from emotional complexity.

Though this resolution comes with sadness, it also comes with strength. You have chosen to honor your boundaries, to free yourself from an exhausting dynamic, and to move forward with clarity instead of waiting for something that may never arrive. That is a kind of healing, even if it isn’t the closure you had once hoped for.

our mother’s role in our lives, but she was resistant and invalidating, suggesting that I misinterpreted things or was too sensitive. Such conversations have ended long ago. Our occasional (far from frequent) talks are about her personal, current concerns. She is suffering a lot and I postpone calling her simply because I am afraid of the pain I will feel with new revelations about her sufferings, mental, emotional and even physical. ”
Here’s a polished version of your heartfelt reflection, with improved flow and clarity while preserving the depth of your emotions:

In regard to my sister and me, we were, much like you and your sister, “strangers even while at home.” Perhaps she tried to get close to me—being six years younger—but maybe I rejected her. I don’t remember. I have only a few fragmented memories of her while I was growing up (or as I prefer to say, “growing-in,” as in inward, isolated on every level). I have no recollection of either of us trying to bridge that gap, no memory of me reaching out to her or her reaching out to me.

Sadly and regretfully, I physically abused her. I have one vivid memory of it—she was maybe two, and I was eight—but I’ve been told there were many more incidents. I deeply regret those moments. If only I could go back in time.

Interestingly, she never complained about the physical abuse—not mine, nor the abuse inflicted by our mother. There was just so much of it—physical abuse, shaming, guilt-tripping—all directed at both of us by our mother. It was overwhelming, a constant storm we endured together yet separately.

For whatever it’s worth, as an adult, I’ve tried to make amends. I sent her large amounts of money along with heartfelt apologies, hoping to express my regret and take responsibility for the harm I caused.

As adults, I’ve also tried to have conversations with her about our childhood, particularly about our mother’s role in our lives. But she has been resistant and invalidating, often suggesting that I misinterpreted things or was simply too sensitive. Those conversations ended long ago. Now, our occasional—and far from frequent—talks revolve around her personal, current concerns.

She is suffering a lot, and I find myself postponing calls with her. I hesitate because I fear the pain I’ll feel when faced with new revelations about her struggles—mental, emotional, and even physical.

I would love to read your thoughts about what I expressed in this post in regard to your situation and mine. Any advice for me, Lucidity?

anita

Developing the imagery further: a virus hijacks the host’s cellular machinery to replicate itself. Similarly, distorted thinking hijacks the person’s emotional machinery so to replicate itself (over analyzing, ruminating).

The virus enters a host cell by binding to its receptors; distorted thinking enters a person’s mind by binding to the person’s emotions.

The host cell mistakenly follows the virus’s genetic instructions, producing viral proteins and assembling new virus particles; the person mistakenly believes distorted thinking, producing meta emotions (emotions about emotions).

The new viruses burst out of the host cell, often destroying it in the process, and go on to infect more cells; one person’s distorted thinking destroys the person and it infects other people with whom the person interacts.

So, the solution is not to not think (an impossible long-term strategy), but to remove infected thinking, distorted thinking and false beliefs.

I will do this right now, move the process along:

(1) infected thinking # 1: I was an inherently inferior zygote, fetus, baby, born of a lesser value than other babies.

no, I was a fine and dandy zygote, fetus and baby 🤭

(2) Infected thinking # 2: I was guilty of my mother’s suffering and it was my job to fix my guilty ways.

no, I was not guilty of any of my mother suffering. There was no job for me to do as far as fixing (not guilty) ways.

(3) Infected thinking #3 (this is a subtle one): I should feel badly about the future of the economy (tariffs) because it’s my fault or because I can fix the situation.

no, I can’t 😏. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

* This sense of false responsibility, starting in regard to my mother’s suffering and onward, that’s a pervasive one.

(4) Everyone is about to turn against me and hurt me. It’s just a matter of time.

no. Not everyone and that’s for sure.

(5) I have to list all of my infected thinkings, otherwise I am guilty of lack of thoroughness, or perfection.

no. that ship (perfection) has sailed long ago. I was never perfect, never will be, and neither will you 😜

anita

Dear Dafne:

You are always welcome, Dafne, and thank you for your appreciation, warmth and kindness 🤗.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge how much strength it takes to keep battling those heavy thoughts every day. The fact that you continue to push forward speaks to your resilience.

When you talk about keeping things low-key at home—being quiet, invisible, avoiding confrontation—it really stands out to me. While this may feel like the safest approach in the moment, I want to gently remind you that having to suppress yourself to avoid conflict is not a healthy long-term strategy. It’s heartbreaking that you feel like that little child again, afraid to be seen or heard. You deserve to take up space, to have a voice, to feel safe in your own home—not like you have to shrink yourself for peace and silence yourself to feel safe.

If you could imagine living in a space where you didn’t have to suppress yourself—where you could express yourself freely without fear—what do you think that would look like? What would it feel like to have that kind of environment?

As for the “old spiders”, or fiends, resurfacing, it’s completely understandable that you don’t want to reengage with people who didn’t value you in the past. You are not obligated to offer them space in your life just because they suddenly regret their choices. You are allowed to prioritize your well-being over someone else’s guilt or nostalgia.

Regarding whether men and women can be just friends, my belief is that friendship is rooted in mutual respect and emotional connection, regardless of gender. True friendships should not compete with romantic relationships. Your preference for not being with someone whose best friend is a woman is completely valid—it’s about what feels comfortable and safe for you.

You are navigating so much, Dafne, and I hope you continue to give yourself grace as you process all of these experiences. Your healing is happening, even if it takes time. I am always here to remind you that you are not alone.

Sending you warmth and strength ☀️💪.

anita

Dear Scw:

The original poster of this thread, whom you quoted, deleted her account sometime in 2014, more than 10 years ago, so I doubt she will be reading your post of today. Also, there is no PM option here.

If you would like to share more about your situation, thoughts and feelings, you are welcome to do it here, and I, for one, would be glad to read and reply.

* Dear Friend: I somehow missed your post of only 5 days ago. Are you still here, reading this? Please let me know.

anita

Dear Tom:

It sounds like there’s a lot happening internally, and you’re carrying this weight mostly on your own. I understand why you’re putting on a brave face—sometimes it feels easier to push through rather than face the heaviness directly. But struggling in silence can be exhausting, and suppressing emotions often does more harm than good.

When feelings are held in, they don’t disappear—they accumulate. Unprocessed stress can manifest physically, leading to headaches, tension, fatigue, or disrupted sleep. Emotionally, it can create a cycle where self-doubt, overthinking, and isolation reinforce one another, making challenges feel even more overwhelming. Over time, suppressing emotions can cause burnout, anxiety, and emotional numbness, making it harder to truly connect with others or feel joy.

It’s a good thing that you have a career coach meeting coming up—maybe that’s a chance to explore whether this is burnout, misalignment with your work, something deeper, or a combination of things. No matter what, your feelings are valid, and it makes complete sense why this has been weighing on you.

And please don’t apologize for venting—your thoughts and emotions matter. If expressing them helps lighten the weight, gain clarity, or simply feel heard, you’re always welcome to do so. You’re not alone in this. 💙

anita

It is exciting, MissLDuchess- the plan to submit an audition for a talent show! It is evening here, and I would like to reply further in the morning.

anita

Dear MissLDuchess:

You are welcome. I hear you completely. The weight of past experiences, the “what ifs,” and the uncertainty around trust—they all make so much sense given what you’ve been through.

It’s understandable to look back and wonder how things could have been different. You navigated so much on your own, carried burdens that weren’t fair, and still, here you are—reflecting, processing, and wanting meaningful connections despite everything.

I want you to know that your feelings are valid—every doubt, every fear, every wish for something better. And the fact that you still want love, connection, and purpose, despite the hurt you’ve endured, says so much about your heart.

I’m here, and I respect your trust. No pressure, no expectations—just a space where you can express yourself freely. 💙

anita

Dear MissLDutchess:

I read your new posts in your other thread and don’t want to interrupt any conversation you might be having with another member there. However, I wanted to say that I truly understand how difficult that experience with your roommate must have been—I know I would have struggled in your place as well. The constant noise, lack of consideration, and disruption to your rest and sleep sound incredibly frustrating.

I can imagine that the situation, combined with the lack of support from the RA, may have brought back memories of being bullied in middle school, where school staff failed to step in. It’s painful when those early experiences of not receiving adequate support from adults seem to repeat in different contexts.

If venting is helping you, please feel free to continue. And if anything I’ve shared so far has been helpful—or if there’s another way I can support you—just let me know.

anita