22/03/2026
That line people throw at you, “I’ve never seen that side of her”, is a polite way of calling you a liar. It lets them keep their comfortable picture of her and leave you holding the mess alone. They get to sound reasonable. You get to feel crazy for telling the truth.
They didn’t see it because they weren’t the one she chose. They got the version she performs. Smiley, helpful, charming, “devoted”. The woman who knows exactly how to behave when there are witnesses. The one who can switch it on in public and save the ugliness for later. People like that don’t lose control everywhere. They pick their moments and they pick their targets.
You lived with the version that came out when the front door shut. The comments that sounded small but were designed to cut. The mood shifts you could feel in your stomach before anyone spoke. The punishment that didn’t always look like shouting, it looked like silence, guilt, humiliation, being made to feel like a burden for having normal human needs. Then she’d walk into a family event and play the warm, reasonable mum like nothing happened.
That’s why it’s so isolating trying to speak about it. You’re not just dealing with what she did, you’re dealing with her reputation doing the heavy lifting for her. Suddenly you’re the one being analysed. Your tone gets criticised. Your memory gets questioned. You get told you’re sensitive, dramatic, influenced. People start acting like your childhood needs a jury, like you have to present your pain in a way they approve of before it counts.
You don’t need them to have seen it. They saw what she wanted them to see. You lived what you weren’t allowed to talk about. If someone uses their limited access as an excuse to doubt you, they’re not safe. Stop explaining. Stop auditioning for belief. Protect your peace and let them keep their fantasy without you in it.