Some relatives still believe their version. Some probably always will. I don’t care anymore. Therapy notes, CPS reports, legal records, and my siblings’ own words tell the truth plainly enough.
I was never supposed to be their parent.
I was supposed to be their son. Their brother. A family member with boundaries, dignity, and a life of his own.
When I finally stopped being their unpaid servant, the dysfunction they had built on my sacrifice collapsed under its own weight.
That was not my failure.
That was theirs.
And I am free. Finally, completely, permanently free.
