Chapter 5: My Sister, My Shadow

Growing up in the 1980s was like living in a different world compared to today. It was a time before the constant buzz of technology, before smartphones and social media took over our lives. Back then, life was simpler in some ways, but for me, it was filled with complexities that I was too young to fully understand.

My sister was nine years older than me, and that gap felt enormous. When I was just learning to navigate the basics of childhood, she was already a teenager, dealing with things I couldn’t even begin to grasp. Our parents were typical boomers, shaped by their own experiences and challenges. My dad struggled with alcoholism, and my mom had her own battles with obsessive-compulsive disorder. They were trying to manage their lives the best they could, but that often left little room for the kind of parenting I needed.

My sister, on the other hand, was a blend of contradictions. She had a learning disability, which meant she needed extra help and attention, and she got it. But she was also incredibly beautiful and street-smart, qualities that seemed to make her life easier in ways mine never was. As a little kid, I looked up to her for both her beauty and the attention she received from my parents.

My sister’s life took a dark turn when she was sexually abused by a family member at the age of 14. This event shattered our family. My dad turned to alcohol even more, and my mom buried herself in her OCD. I remember going to therapy during that time, being asked by the therapist where I was touched. I had fleeting, disturbing visions of male anatomy, but I didn’t fully understand what was happening. My sister continued therapy, but I was left feeling alone and confused, the “mistake” child who had come along nine years after my mom thought she was done having kids.