I don’t suppose we will ever speak again. I avoid any and all family occasions that would mean our paths would cross. These are statements that have massive ramifications as we enter a phase of life where there are family weddings and our parents become elderly. But these I am willing to accept, even though this means missing out on important events that cannot be replayed. This hurts, and hurts a lot, but the alternative would hurt more.

You are a bully. You bully people in the workplace and proudly talk about it at family events; you bully your children when you slap them and yank them around; you bully your wife with your affairs, and switch your phone off when you are out later than planned but can’t face being honest with her; you bully me when life gets tough, and have done since we were teenagers.

You are weak. Your strength comes from our family, who fear that if they speak out against you, you will simply disappear out of their lives completely so they lose contact with, not only you, but also your children. They continue to welcome you in their lives because they would rather have you than not. This means they sit quietly when you lash out at your children; they smile weakly at your tales from work; they find reasons why your behaviour is a reflection of your difficult relationship with a high-maintenance wife.

I do not share their fears and I do not make the same choice as they do.

I have always been the one who you turned on when things in your life weren’t working. It has continued for decades. This last round of upset has made me realise that nothing is ever going to change. Nothing. Ever.

For you, I will always be the emotional punchbag. For the rest of the family there will always be excuses made for you and rewriting of events to paint you in a more favourable (and less culpable) light. For me, that is not a dynamic I want to take part in any more.

I realise that the current status quo might feel like a victory – I can imagine you feel you have won. You don’t see the times I am with everybody and how well we all get on. You can convince yourself that I am the one on the outside. Hold on to those feelings … they won’t last.

You try to continue the dynamics, but it’s hard if I am not around to respond. I guess this must have become frustrating as, yes, I have seen your latest attempt on social media to provoke a reaction. “See”, yes; “care”, not really. The jokey tone didn’t hide the sting in the tail well enough; you are in danger of becoming transparent in a very public forum.

You need me. The next time your life takes a bad turn, I won’t be there – not in person, not via phone, email or on social media. There is no way of reaching me. This is my choice and one I am OK with. I don’t need you in my life. You just can’t say the same thing.

Anonymous