Growing up, I was always the disappointment. The child who “never measures up.” My siblings were celebrated the clever one, the obedient one, the one who made the family proud. Me? I was the one they compared, criticized, and cast aside. Every family gathering felt like walking into a courtroom where I was the accused, and my only crime was existing differently.
I can’t count the number of times I sat quietly at the dinner table, listening as my parents praised my siblings’ successes new jobs, good grades, relationships while pretending not to notice my silence. When I tried to speak, my mother would say, “Learn from your brother. You should be like him.” Those words pierced deeper than she’ll ever know.
At some point, I stopped trying. I became withdrawn, resentful, and bitter. Every attempt I made, starting a small business, applying for jobs, even dating, ended in failure. It was as if something was blocking me, an invisible weight dragging me down every time I tried to rise. The worst part? My own family believed I was cursed. They laughed behind my back, saying, “That one can’t succeed in anything.”
It’s traumatizing being alive but feeling unseen, unloved, and unworthy in your own home. The emotional wounds cut deep, especially when you realize your family’s rejection makes you start doubting your purpose. I remember one night I broke down completely. I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered, “Maybe they were right about me.” Continue Reading https://drbokko.com/?p=34151
