Sibling Betrayal Quotes

At the snowy summit of all these things, however, is the fact that you simply cannot go about locking your siblings in towers when they misbehave. It is unseemly and betrays a sad lack of creativity.

But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing

It was all about money. Dirty, bloody money. It can come and go so easily. They don't see that life is what's important. Love, friendship, trust, respect, a daily routine, someone to grow old with, siblings to cherish, family, a home; things people don't give a damn about until they lose them, things money can't bring back.

No parent should lose a son or daughter, no teacher should lose a student, no sibling should lose a brother or sister, and no student should lose a best friend or a teacher.

Maybe it was different for you and Valerie, since you didn't like each other much. But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing.

Perfecting my phrasing without betraying my heart is starting to feel like a complicated dance.

I remember how I would eye with envy all the kids in our neighborhood, in my school, who had a little brother or sister. How bewildered I was by the way some of them treated each other, oblivious to their own good luck. They acted like wild dogs. Pinching, hitting, pushing, betraying one another any way they could think of. Laughing about it too. They wouldn’t speak to one another. I didn’t understand. Me, I spent most of my early years craving a sibling. What I really wished I had was a twin, someone who’d cried next to me in the crib, slept beside me, fed from Mother’s breast with me. Someone to love helplessly and totally, and in whose face I could always find myself.

There's nothing like competing for your boyfriend's attention with an emotionally needy sibling to make you feel like the worst sort of evil psycho-bitch.

But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing.

In my professional work I am struck by how often sibling relationships fall apart around the life-cycle stage of caring for elderly parents, and dealing with a parents death and it's aftermath. Failed apologies have the most serious consequences at stressful points in the life-cycle, and loss is the most challenging adaptational task that family members have to come to terms with.

But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing.

I was an only, and often lonely, child. After they’d had me, my parents, who’d met back in Pakistan when they were both around forty, had decided against tempting fate a second time. I remember how I would eye with envy all the kids in our neighborhood, in my school, who had a little brother or sister. How bewildered I was by the way some of them treated each other, oblivious to their own good luck. They acted like wild dogs. Pinching, hitting, pushing, betraying one another any way they could think of. Laughing about it too. They wouldn’t speak to one another. I didn’t understand. Me, I spent most of my early years craving a sibling.

As the bankruptcies and embarrassments mounted, Donald was confronted for the first time with the limits of his ability to talk or threaten his way out of a problem. Always adept at finding an escape hatch, he seems to have come up with a plan to betray his father and steal vast sums of money from his siblings.

In 2018, I publicly disclosed that I had experienced psychological abuse by my sisters. Prior to uploading my first YouTube video on this sensitive topic, I had no idea if anyone else would relate. Shortly after my video went live, I received hundreds of comments by strangers who shared similar stories of being bullied, manipulated, gaslit, and abused by their own siblings. Five years later, my videos now have over 163,234K views and thousands of comments.

The scapegoat is the family punching bag. On a daily basis, you are singled out for all of the collective ridicule, made into the butt of every joke, and excluded from family events, holidays, and important legal matters. It doesn't take long for outsiders or other relatives to take note of your role and to be drawn into the destructive dynamics. Family scapegoats are belittled, humiliated, battered, rejected, betrayed, and treated poorly. It's a clear case of psychological abuse, manipulation, and harassment.

Murry Wilson, to be sure, was a driving force in the Beach Boys' early success, but his greed and vindictiveness deny him any tribute. The most forgiving thing I can say about him is that he was simply an inheritor of his own father's cruelty. My mom, for her part, was always loyal to her brother, as she was grateful for how Murry had protected his siblings against the violence of their father. I wasn't going to sully my mom's devotion to that brother with an explanation of his betrayals against his own family.

Wife number one always married with the naïve romantic dream that her husband would never need another wife, believing his earnest promises to her that she would be the only one, that their marriage was different… until he shattered her union with him and obliterated her dignity by bringing the next woman home. Her children would learn from her embittered and broken heart that their father had betrayed her and thus, by extension… them. They themselves would count the other wives and their half-siblings as interlopers, cutting into their rightful inheritance, long before they were old enough to be sent to learn anything from their sire.

I think we're all just doing our best to survive the inevitable pain and suffering that walks alongside us through life. Long ago, it was wild animals and deadly poxes and harsh terrain. I learned about it playing The Oregon Trail on an old IBM in my computer class in the fourth grade. The nature of the trail has changed, but we keep trekking along. We trek through the death of a sibling, a child, a parent, a partner, a spouse; the failed marriage, the crippling debt, the necessary abortion, the paralyzing infertility, the permanent disability, the job you can't seem to land; the assault, the robbery, the break-in, the accident, the flood, the fire; the sickness, the anxiety, the depression, the loneliness, the betrayal, the disappointment, and the heartbreak. There are these moments in life where you change instantly. In one moment, you're the way you were, and in the next, you're someone else. Like becoming a parent: you're adding, of course, instead of subtracting, as it is when someone dies, and the tone of the occasion is obviously different, but the principal is the same. Birth is an inciting incident, a point of no return, that changes one's circumstances forever. The second that beautiful baby onto whom you have projected all your hopes and dreams comes out of your body, you will never again do anything for yourself. It changes you suddenly and entirely. Birth and death are the same in that way.

I couldn't see her, a blackness hung before my eyes, but I felt her fall back and I felt her skin beneath my nails, her bones beneath my fingers, my beloved sister, my enemy, my protector, my betrayal-(you sent him to me!)-and then she was hitting me, shoving me to the ground, kicking my stomach, my side, my ribs, my head. She was screaming (I saved you, all those years it was me, I saved you, I was the only one who saved you, nobody but me) and above it Emily was wailing, stop it! stop it! you're hurting her! Then her small body was between Lilith and me, pushing Lilith away, but Lilith's hands were on her throat, (not you, you got none of it, ever, you were safe, safe, safe, SAFE) and I couldn't get up, my ribs were in agony, the world was spinning, but I got to my knees and I shouted, "Let her go!" because Lilith was shaking Emily back and forth so that her hair whipped and flew- and she did stop, for just an instant, Emily's pale, fragile throat in her hands, and the whole dark earth held its breath.

Never and Always Never take advantage of someone whom loves you Never avoid someone whom needs you Never betray anyone whom has trust in you Never forget the people that always remember you Never speak ill of a person who is not present Never support something you know is wrong or unethical Always speak to your parents on their birthday and anniversary Always defend those who cannot defend themselves Always forgive those you love whom have made mistakes Always give something to those less fortunate than you Always remember to look back at those who helped you succeed Always call your parents and siblings on New Year’s Eve.

When the flavour of white bread and processed meat are linked in your memory with the warmth and authority of a parent and the camaraderie of siblings, it can feel like a betrayal to stop eating them.

Winston couldn't remember the last time he'd had one of these lonesome summer weekdays. He felt betrayed. How dare his friends live the portions of their lives that didn't include him? On days like this, he used to shovel breakfast cereal into his mouth, then bolt outside to play, only to discover nine-tenths of his world was missing. Downcast, he'd return home and skim his sole Hardy Boys mystery, The Missing Chums, blind to the title's irony. After a few boring pages, he'd behead a few of his sister's dolls, then fight her off with a knife. Then they'd share a cantaloupe half, arguing about whether it tasted better with or without salt.

Always adept at finding an escape hatch, he seems to have come up with a plan to betray his father and steal vast sums of money from his siblings.

My siblings and myself life lessons We didn't learn about broken promises and betrayal from the outside world but experienced it at home instead. Our parents lied and betrayed several times a year throughout our lives. So when someone from the outside world broke a promise or betrayed us it didn't phase us much.

In their own ways, the Christian and rabbinic siblings continued to honor the same unrejected tradition and their common elders while they taunt each other with having betrayed the family.

In life, like art, there has to be an essential sense of weirdness.

Where do you suggest?” he asks. “Where do you know a surgeon with our ink who won’t raise a battalion after us?” Sim stares at him for a moment, like she’s tracing a mental map of the world, weighing her choices. Then she says, “I know a surgeon in Ponta Delgada. With the winds at our back, we could be there by nightfall tomorrow.” “The Azores are Portuguese,” Saad replies. “I didn’t say they were ours; I said I know a surgeon there.” Saad doesn’t look convinced. Sim puffs out her cheeks in a frustrated sigh, then goes on. “I’d bet my life on her. She won’t betray us. And the Azores may be Portuguese, but plenty of corsairs make port there. Lots of Berber captains use it for a stopover—we won’t be in danger.” “Who’s the surgeon?” Saad asks. Sim falters. “What?” “You said she.” Saad folds his arms, his lips curling into an triumphant smile. “So I’m curious, what is the name of this lady doctor in Ponta Delgada? I didn’t know you knew any lady surgeons. Except one, who was banished from our fleet, a sentence you volunteered to carry out.” Sim looks away from him. I watch her throat flex as she swallows hard. “Tell me, Sim,” Saad says quietly. Sim keeps her gaze fixed on the floor. Monty shifts in his fitful sleep with a small whimper. Sim closes her eyes, then looks at Saad. “It’s Felicity Montague.

Imagine the impact for Joseph. He lost his parents, siblings, culture, food, language, freedom, and hopes in one day! Then in Egypt, while serving as a slave in the home of Potiphar, he was falsely accused of rape and sent to prison for years. A door opened for his release while in the dungeon, but he was forgotten once again. He languished in prison for ten to thirteen years. What a waste! What betrayal! His life, to the age of thirty, appears to be a tragedy. If anyone should have been filled with bitterness and rage for so much family pain, it was Joseph! Yet he remained faithful as a seeker and lover of God. Even when horrific events outside his control swirled around him, Scripture describes Joseph as “walking with God.

In 1991, betrayal trauma was originated by Jennifer Freyd, PhD, an American psychology researcher, author, and educator. She states, 'During trauma it is usually not safe or possible for individuals to consciously access their emotional reactions or experiences, awareness often emerges after trauma ceases.

Sibling abuse, triangulation, and alienation will influence your ability to trust others. The core problem isn't your lack of trust. Rather, you've experienced unhealthy dynamics with dishonest folks. You may have spent years or decades dealing with backstabbing siblings, friendships, or family members who lied to you, hurt you, and deceived you.

Take, for example, a young man who had a distant, narcissistic mother. As an infant or child, he experienced her coldness as abandonment, and to be abandoned must mean he was somehow unworthy of her love. Or similarly, a new sibling on the scene caused his mother to give him much less attention, which he equally experienced as abandonment. Later in life, in a relationship, a woman might hint at disapproval of some trait or action of his, all of which is part of a healthy relationship. This will hit a trigger point—she is noticing his flaws, which, he imagines, precedes her abandonment of him. He feels a powerful rush of emotion, a sense of imminent betrayal. He does not see the source of this; it is beyond his control. He overreacts, accuses, withdraws, all of which leads to the very thing he feared—abandonment. His reaction was to some reflection in his mind, not to the reality. This is the height of irrationality.

Sibling abuse didn’t just happen to you. It didn’t only happen to me. It has happened to millions upon millions of people worldwide. Let that sink in… According to the website, Hope4Siblings.com, “In America alone, there are over 40 million sibling abuse survivors. Society pays a huge price when sibling abuse is not given attention and goes uncorrected in lives of many adults. The over-learned maladaptive coping skills generated by an abusive sibling can affect adulthood. Because of sibling abuse, victimization occurred again in their childhoods through bullying. Sibling abuse is often directly connected to the formation of adult personality.

Three years ago!” he yelled, and all of the emotion seemed to hit at once. “You sent me one letter in four years, Dinar! And I defended you! I defended you to all of them – Mother, Father, Tomaas, even the other families in Parejon that came asking. I told them you were well and happy and doing great, important things. Convinced them it was all for the best. But I have no idea why, because you hurt me worst of all.

Why had it taken finally seeing her again for him to realize just how much it had hurt watching her leave?

You have always looked at me like I hang the cursed stars in the sky and that was sweet when we were young – but now, Ely, it’s too hard! It is too hard to be perfect for you because when I am wrong you assume that I meant to hurt you – that it was all part of the plan because I am too smart and too good to do something badly.

The only one you protected was yourself,” he snapped, the words choking out before he could stop them. “Yes,” Dinar hissed back. “I did protect myself.” Something dark and angry flickered in her eyes. “It was about damn time I learned to do that.

I have always expected too much from you. But I think you also expected too much from me. I thought you could not make mistakes. You thought I would always understand. Would never feel hurt. But, Deen, sometimes people don’t understand unless you make them. Sometimes you have to take the time and explain yourself.

I always hoped you'd outgrow the whole sibling-rivalry thing. Whatever it is that keeps you at each other's throats, I wish you'd both just let it go." "In all honesty, Mother, an apology would do wonders, but Bitsy has never apologized for anything in her entire life." She pauses, weighing her words. "People don't always say they're sorry, Lovey. You have to find a way to move on without it." Mother begins to make my bed, and I hurry to help. "Kind of hard to let something go when it's still happening." She draws her lips into a tight frown, as if I'm the greatest disappointment of her life. "You think you're the only one who has ever been hurt?" She snaps the pillow to fluff it in its case, clearly convinced her own pain far exceeds my own. "That's not what I'm saying." I place three pillow shams. She resets them. "Of course I'm not the only one who has ever been hurt. But it's a little different when you're betrayed by someone you love, and even worse when she does it on purpose. You don't know how that feels.

Alec was always Aunt Mathilda’s favorite, but I was my Aunt Florence’s. We used to feed swans together in the lake behind Chrysemfell.

We saw displays of medals, plaques, and monuments—rewards for those who’d spied and reported on their families. Even their files were preserved, row after row of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with personal information on the citizens of the German Democratic Republic. I touched some of the files, aware that each contained the private secrets of real people whose lives may have been ruined by this invasion of their privacy, or simply by knowing it was a parent or child or sibling who’d betrayed them. It was chilling to imagine living in such a state.

He looked to Liesl, “I do not see the family resemblance. Did your mother fuck around? She’s a five at best. You’re off the charts. It’s like trading a thoroughbred for a donkey. You got the looks in the family.” He looked behind him at Fred. “If he had to cheat on you with a sibling he should have gone for Fred. He’s far hotter.