You can’t force other people to acknowledge you, writes advice columnist Eleanor Gordon-Smith, don’t ransom your wellbeing for that possibility
My mother has written the story of her life, which all but denies my very existence while providing rich detail as to the lives and accomplishments of my siblings. Since I was barely a toddler she never kept her antipathy for me any secret – an antipathy I’ve long felt she must have conceived out of a sense of guilt for not protecting me from the horrible physical and mental abuse I suffered at the hands of my sadistic oldest brother from the age of three onwards.
The lies mother has now left for posterity with her book feel like assault. I don’t care to engage and invite further bitter attack, but letting her go to her reward thinking she’s had the last word rankles somewhat. What to do?
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