When Truth Hits: A Week of Revelations

This week completely overwhelmed me. I had barely finished and published my post, “Paddy – Child Abuse, and What Remains,” when life opened the next chapter—one that I hadn’t even processed myself.

Monday: Pia’s Slow and Certain Death

On Monday, my mother told me that Pia would be staying at the care facility she had been admitted to two weeks earlier. Not long ago, they had said her condition was too good for this facility—a hospice that usually only takes in people in their final weeks of life.

The decision that she could stay meant her condition had deteriorated so much that she likely only had six weeks left, at most. A 50-year-old woman slowly dying. Tragic, yes—but also a relief. The brain tumor had turned Pia into a shadow of herself over two years. She can no longer walk. Can barely move her hands. And worst of all: she can no longer speak. Nobody knows how much of her is still there inside that trapped body. In her case, death is a release.

Paddy’s World Collapses

The news spread quickly through the family. I knew immediately that this would be much harder for Paddy than for me. Pia was his sister. His last close relative. Both of his parents are dead. So I wasn’t surprised when he stood in my office on Monday afternoon and asked if I had time for a smoke break. I did.

And that’s exactly what should distinguish the “second labor market” from the regular one: having time. For conversations. Especially in serious moments.

We went outside. Paddy was visibly shaken. He had barely slept and had cried a lot. We talked about Pia —and inevitably ended up discussing her partner, Tom. A toxic, manipulative man. Since Pia’s illness, a puzzle has slowly been coming together in the family—one that paints a very dark picture. Not just toxic. There are indications that Tom is a pedophile. A lot suggests that he abused children. And Pia? She covered for him.

A Family Secret Breaks Open

And then it happened. In slow motion, I realized that Paddy didn’t know that Pia herself had been a victim of our uncle for years. And instead of keeping quiet like a “good” family member, I asked that day: “You do know that your sister was also affected, right?” The words were barely out of my mouth when my mind screamed, “Oh, crap!”

I watched Paddy’s world collapse. It was a truth that had to come to light eventually. But not like this. Not on a day when he was already struggling with his sister’s impending death. I saw him break apart inside. I couldn’t just leave him alone with that shock. So I told him everything I knew. And Paddy, in turn, found fragmented memories that fit together like puzzle pieces. We talked for a long time. But eventually, we had to go back to work. Paddy left—with a hole in his soul that won’t heal quickly.

Tuesday: Therapy as an Anchor

On Tuesday, he came again. Before he could even say “hello,” tears streamed down his face. “Smoke break?” I asked. He just nodded. Outside, everything poured out of him: “My whole life was a lie. Everything I thought about my family—wrong. I feel like they deliberately gave me a false impression. Or was I just too stupid to see it?”

I know that feeling. I know what it’s like when your identity collapses. And I knew: no bullshit would help now. So I spoke it out—what had happened between us back then. Gently. Without blame. I emphasized what research confirms: We were children. None of us are to blame. And: There is nothing for us to be ashamed of.

Unexpected Healing

Paddy surprised me. He said it had burdened him his whole life. That he had always felt like a perpetrator. But his words—his openness—healed something in me, too. It was as if an old emotional fracture that never properly mended was finally being set straight. A beautiful, almost magical moment.

Next Step: Getting Help

Paddy asked me to help him start therapy as soon as possible. I see that he’s ready. But also how fragile he is. It has to happen quickly. On Monday, I will try to get him an appointment as a patient at my therapy practice. In doing so, I’m not just helping him. I’m helping myself, too. I want to let go of this responsibility. I’m not doing anything for him that he could do himself. But I can’t just stand by and watch someone fall. Especially not when I was the one who pushed him to the edge.