Elder Sister: 'They Hit Me Because I Stay Calm While She Cries'

The new heroine of our «Nakipelo» column is an elder sister who still can«t shake the feeling that she»s always to blame. She tells of scratches she had to conceal, dolls hidden on top of the wardrobe, and why she still feels like a «hamster» when it comes to her things and food.

«You«re Provoking Her Yourself»

My main pain is injustice. I«m 24, my sister is 20—a four-year gap. In childhood, we clashed periodically, and she often settled things with her fists. She hit hard, especially when angry. I couldn»t fight back—after all, she was the younger one. If I answered rudely or pushed her away during an attack, she would burst into tears.

Our parents would rush in—and the truth was never on my side. «The child is crying, so you must have done something wrong.» Mom saw it differently, but Dad always defended the younger one. In the end, I got it twice: first from my sister, then from my father, who would start yelling. They scold and hit me because I stand there calm while she cries.

There was a time I had to go to school with a large scratch on my face. I was in fifth grade and had never used makeup before, but that day I borrowed concealer for the first time—just to hide the redness. My teacher noticed, of course, but I stayed silent. What could I say? «My sister scratched me»? I«d still be blamed: »You provoked her yourself.«

I remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to apply that concealer evenly with shaking hands. I was ten years old. I didn«t understand why I had to cover up someone else»s aggression to avoid a scandal, but there was no choice.

I Had to Search for Hiding Spots

When a younger sister arrives, your personal belongings are in danger. It started with toys. I had dolls I loved dearly: Monster High and others. I waited for each one, cherished it, wanted them to stay in perfect condition. But my sister, when she took them, would simply undress them; clothes got lost, shoes vanished, the dolls became disheveled.

That was a huge pain for me. I«d take a bag, put in everything I wanted to protect, and hide it on top of the wardrobe. Sometimes—behind the sofa. When I went out for a walk or wasn»t home, I«d call Mom and ask, »Did sister take my toys?« I genuinely worried something would happen to them.

She could find those toys and start playing with them. And it wasn«t always clear where exactly to hide them. I can»t just crawl into the storeroom and search for my own «little burrow.» I want to play comfortably: take out toys, put them away calmly, not have to find a secret spot every time.

Later, the same started happening with clothes and makeup. She might put something on and leave. By the time she began borrowing clothes, she no longer treated them like toys in childhood—she didn«t tear them or ruin them, but she»d leave just when I might want to wear that particular item.

She lost several of my favorite pieces, and this happened not too long ago. My sister is quite scatterbrained; as a child she played sports and had to change clothes many times in locker rooms. She«d leave my things there—things that were precious to me. Once I found my favorite hoodie in the school locker room—someone had already gotten chalk on it. I didn»t say anything. I just took it and left. What was the point? They«d have asked me anyway: »And why did you leave it there?«

«I Feel Like a Hamster»

Another thing—food. After that life, I just feel like a hamster. I really like it when, if I have a certain item or food, it just sits there, nobody touches it, nobody covets it. So I can feel at ease, because I don«t like having things taken from me.

When I got sweets, I«d put them in the fridge and plan to have them, say, in the evening. But by evening, my sister might have broken off a piece, then another piece of the chocolate bar, and eaten it all.

I started hiding food. In the desk drawer, in a bag with socks, in a box of textbooks. Once Mom found a bag of cookies in my wardrobe and asked, «Are you starving yourself?» To this day I dislike sharing food. If I bought myself a chocolate bar—it«s mine. And if someone reaches for it, I feel irritated. I know it»s strange, but it«s stayed with me.

«You Can«t, Because You Have a Sister»

What really infuriates me is that in childhood, when you want to hang out with your friends, you have to babysit your sister instead. For some reason, my parents thought that was the daily norm: «You two should go everywhere together.» Because of that, I couldn«t wander far from home, go to the park, or visit someone, because I had a sister who couldn»t walk that far. And Mom would scold you if you did.

I remember my girlfriends inviting me to the movies. But I stayed home because «sister won»t go alone.« It hurt. I»m not a nanny. I want to live my own life too. But for my parents, I was the «elder»—which meant «responsible.»

Once I finally went to the park with friends. I came back after two hours—and there was a big row at home. Mom shouted, «Where were you? Your sister was waiting for you!»

And they always believe her. Always. She can do something nasty, and you get the blame. Because the child can say, «It wasn»t me, it was my big sister.« And that»s it—you«re guilty.

One time she broke Mom«s mug. Mom ran in and looked at us. My sister immediately: »It was her!« They didn»t even ask me. They just said, «Go to your room.» I sat there crying. That«s how it always was. She lies—they believe her. I tell the truth—they don»t believe me. I stopped making excuses and just stayed silent.

I don«t want my future children to grow up like that. I don»t want the older one to always be at fault. I want the truth to carry weight. I want the word «elder» not to mean «always must.»