my sister and I are drifting apart.

when your perception of someone you once admired changes

Jul 17, 2025

Disclaimer:
This article is a deeply personal narrative and a reflection of my own experiences, thoughts, and emotions. It is not intended to defame, criticize, or harm any individual mentioned, but rather to process and express my personal journey through mental health, family dynamics, and healing. All names (except mine) are either pseudonyms or used with respect and care. Please understand that this story represents my perspective and may not capture the full complexity of others' experiences. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those sensitive to topics related to family conflict, mental health struggles, or emotional distress.

Believe me, I wasn’t planning to write, but I felt the urge to do so.

Today, I received a message from my stepmother, asking me to talk to her and my dad.

I broke down and cried.

This may contain: a painting of a man's face with tears on his nose and eyeliners

I felt a heaviness weighing on my chest as I thought of what I was going to reply because I knew once I spoke my truth, my eldest sister (Golden) and I’s relationship would never be the same again. I felt overwhelming grief, and I’m already mourning at the funeral of our sisterhood. She was my role model, my second mother, a role that was unfairly imposed upon her by our parents, and all I feel around her is guilt of not being good enough and not being able to repay her for everything she’s done for us siblings.

I wrote about Golden in one of my earlier articles, “on family dysfunction.” I looked up to my sister so much. I constantly compared myself to her subconsciously as I felt deeply ashamed and guilty for not doing my share of financially helping out, which is a staple in a Filipino household. She has a medical condition that I’m blessed not to have, and she’s working two jobs to be able to keep our current lifestyle. She has no idea how much I respect and admire her for that, but at the same time, she fuels my depression and anxiety of not growing up fast enough, as she did when she was younger. I’m exhausted of being compared to my siblings and all the hardships they went through being shoved in my face because I do not follow the same path. I tried to make up for it, God knows how hard I tried to fit into her standards, but I’m worn out, and I’m convinced I will never be enough to please her in this lifetime.

One day in June,

I ran away from the house we shared. I walked an hour to my other sister’s house with no choice as I was locked out of the house, and her car was parked in front, but she didn’t come out after more than 20 minutes that I’d been in the garage. I have no idea if she was watching me acting stupid, knocking on the door for someone to open it. I didn’t have the energy to walk over, knock on the car door, and beg her to let me in— so I left and started walking without a phone or a wallet. I walked away in utter despair. A man asked me if I was alright, and I lied that I was fine. I was in a ridiculous Looney Tunes tee, disheveled hair, red eyes, and I bet I looked tragic.

Rewind the tape.

Earlier that day, I woke up to the sound of Golden asking Purple (who was two years older than me) to accompany her to the car wash. Purple said she had work to do, and so I was asked to go in her place. I wanted to help, so of course, I did. While the car was being cleaned, we waited at a nearby café, sipping coffee and just chatting.

When suddenly, two guys in office attire, in line to order coffee, caught our attention. Golden says they must be my age. I mutter a small, “Really?” uncomfortably, as I had a hunch where this was going. I laughed it off as she told me I seemed like a child in comparison to them. (I wonder if my height also comes into play...)

Somehow, the wind changed direction, and all of a sudden, the topic is my AWOL status at university. I ran away from it two years prior due to my unstable mental health, which I regret a lot during my 2 gap years. I’ve done the damage, and there was not much I could do but go back and apply to readmit myself to the university. This was a hefty process, however, and requires me a bit of cash to book a bus, rent a room, and cover other expenses to survive on my own. I was jumping from medication to medication, and I only found the perfect treatment plan for me as of late.

I didn’t want to tell her why it was so hard for me to return to my studies.

I couldn’t.

I tried to make everyone understand what I’m going through, but I have not had the words to describe it all in a way I could possibly make everyone understand, even if I wanted to. She told me I was blaming her for my actions, that everyone is depressed too, that I don’t have friends anyway, so… to whom will I share my struggles with? I felt my insides boiling, and I burst into flames. Or into tears, rather, as I sobbed uncontrollably at 7 am in a public café for everyone to see. I kept repeating, “I don’t know what you want me to do.” I was trying my best, but my best was probably her worst. She stared at me from across the table with a blank expression, telling me to regulate my emotions in front of a live audience. This drove me insane. I was utterly humiliated, so I walked out of there, walking all the way home. Apparently, there was a video recorded by her, which I felt the most anger for. I understand her harshness towards me was out of concern, but recording what was one of the most miserable days of my life was going too far.

So I walked to my other sister, Rebel’s, house for more than an hour, as I mentioned. I slept there for hours on end and played with my lovely nephew, my favorite little person in the world. I waited for my mother to pick me up. I had nowhere else to go, so I stayed at my grandmother’s house. It’s been over a month, and I stand by my decision to leave. Everyone there kept me in a mold that fits their narratives about me, and I couldn’t break away from it unless I left.

I am just completely done.

That was my catalyst for change. I started knowing myself again, connecting with my inner child, and returning to my old creative pursuits. Reaching out to new people and reconnecting with old friends. Honoring my body by using exercise and eating well. Sometimes, you just have to be so sick and tired that you’re becoming physically sick of the same old cycles to completely turn your whole life around.

I am fucking done.