Growing up, the favouritism in my family was unmistakable. My younger sister, Rachel, now 37, was always my mother Karen’s golden child. Meanwhile, I, now 42, seemed to fade into the background the moment Rachel was born. To an outsider, it might sound dramatic, but this was my reality. Rachel was born prematurely and with health complications, which naturally made my mother very protective of her. While understandable to a degree, Karen’s concern quickly turned into obsession. Rachel wasn’t just the baby of the family—she was royalty. Her wants, needs, and moods dictated the household. Mom would hand-feed her well into middle school, did her homework for her, and even let her skip school whenever Rachel didn’t feel like going. Emotional Neglect and Familial Disappointment I, on the other hand, had the bare essentials—food, clothes, and shelter—but lacked emotional support. Unless it had something to do with Rachel, I might as well have been invisible. One memory stands out vividly: when I was ten, Mom forgot about a dentist appointment I had. Hours after school, I was still waiting, until a family friend found me and gave me a ride home. Karen brushed it off with a casual, “Oh, I thought you’d figure it out.” The only person who truly saw me was my dad, Michael. Despite his busy work schedule, he made time for me when he could. We would sneak out for ice cream or movies, and he always gave me a little extra on my birthday, urging me not to tell my mom. Looking back, I think he was trying to compensate for the emotional neglect I faced. But even Dad couldn’t fully shield me from the blatant favouritism. For Rachel, life was effortless. I had to work and save for the things I wanted, while Rachel only had to ask. One Christmas, I asked for a bike. Rachel, at the last minute, requested the same. Come Christmas morning, there was a shiny new bike for Rachel under the tree—and a pack of socks for me. When I asked why, Mom simply said, “You’re older. Save up for one yourself.” Breaking Free: From Neglect to Independence By the time I finished high school, I was desperate to escape. Moving away for college felt like breathing fresh air for the first time. Finally, I was free from Karen’s neglect and Rachel’s shadow. I thrived, building a life for myself, while Rachel remained home, coddled and dependent. She didn’t leave until she was 26, and even after marrying, Mom continued to micromanage her life, calling multiple times a day and showing up unannounced to clean her house or bring groceries. Years passed, and I had limited contact with Karen. My father, however, stayed in touch. He would visit me or call regularly, a lifeline of support in an otherwise fractured family. But eleven years ago, everything changed.

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