I AM SOULFIRE Podcast

About I AM SOULFIRE Podcast

I AM SOULFIRE is a serialized dramedy of anecdotal stories inspired by lived experience, exploring family, sibling dynamics, inherited roles, patriarchy, boundaries, and generational patterns to help others question inherited scripts. Posts Fridays. iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast)

Publisher

The DR | I AM SOULFIRE

Category

fiction · society & culture

Language

en

Explicit

Yes

First episode

18 Sept 2026

Latest episode

23 Oct 2026

Latest episodes

7 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   23 Oct 2026

   REDDIT AITA: The Volleyball Husband | Bad Behavior Breakdown

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCEI AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect. Welcome to a special, by-request I AM SOULFIRE Narco-DeTector & DeCoder Dispatch. A listener DM’d asking if IAS could recognize N-ZONER traits in people OTHER than Bro. Could I show others how I see what I now see? Well, I came across a Reddit post over a month ago, and this guy had my attention in the FIRST paragraph. I could already see things jumping out at me, and I thought—OH, THIS is one I want to break down for you. Let me show you what I see. We’re doing this in two parts. First, I’ll read his post and give you my hot take—from his original post only. Then, Sunday afternoon, the BONUS drops: we’ll get the popcorn, read the comments, and see what Dr. Setter has to add. Please keep in mind this is an opinion piece, imagined and written by a hysterical woman in the menopause zone, for entertainment purposes. OP explicitly asked what readers think, and IAS was like—oh please, hand me the mic. REDDIT READING LINK: (https://www.reddit.com/r/AmItheAsshole/comments/1vhhv4l/aita_for_playing_a_game_while_my_pregnant_wife) I originally found this in Am I the Devil. The original poster, Spiritual_Estate4079—I can barely say that with a straight face—posted it in AITA: Am I the Asshole. First, let me read his exact post. His own words, which he chose to bring to Reddit to get validation and prove his rightness. 01 — IAS CALLS EM’ LIKE SHE SEES EM’ Well, sir, since you asked—let me tell you what I THINK!!!! It was hard for me to read that for you without laughter and outrage, so I did my best to just get through it without first hiring a private detective to go find his wife. I so wish he had said, “my ex-wife.” What I like about these two sections on Reddit is that they have stories written by people in their own words. Now, whether some of those stories are real is debatable—some have those viral Springer vibes. But when people say, “OH, give me an example”—BURP, scratch—I have lots of resources to choose from. Shrug. I stated in Dispatch 4 that I am a huge fan of the comments section in the Jerry Springer section of the internet. 02 — IAS WEEKLY CONFESSION IAS weekly confession: I was once addicted to TRASHY AF talk shows in the early to mid-’90s—to the point where I put Post-it notes on top of my cable box and on the TV screen: “DON’T WATCH. NO NO NO. NO SPRINGER.” The notes didn’t work. I had to disconnect my cable box. I would just fall into the routine every mid-morning after closing the pub, then going out drinking, decompressing, playing pool, singing karaoke in dark, seedy places with some of the coolest and most genuine people I have had the privilege to come across. I still have friends from my SID days who know me in ways you will never know The DR. People like Cookie and Padre—well, go figure—I didn’t make the connection until now. They both grew up in my home state, and Cooks and I attended the same uni, but she is a skosh younger. The SIDs—service industry peeps. We are the worst of the worst after closing time. But we had spent hours running around serving people food, being treated like shit. SERVERS. Selflessly feeding the poor and the needy—bringing you baskets of tater tots and ranch and more ranch—while being looked down upon by important Dr. Setters, who clearly have a much more important role in society, being the team’s super setter for THE BIG GAME down the street in the local church gymnasium. Some people look down on people who stay out late at night, drinking into the morning hours and maybe indulging in some party favors. But we got off work at like 1:00–1:30 a.m., disgusted and beaten down by entitled, rude customers like Dr. Setter—so we went out and got shit-faced to remove the ick. Drowning out our violations. Soaking our cells in the spirits, hoping they would muster some kind of joy. It’s sad, really. And then come home and veg in front of Springer and Oprah and the OTHER trash—Geraldo and Sally, too. Just hooked in—like heroin. I felt like the kid in the “Lacquer Head” video by Primus. Addicted to TRASH TV—it makes you feel like, well, at least my life ain’t THAT F’d up. If you know, you know. If you are a SID—mad props. If you are a GEN-X SID—we need to start our own commune somewhere! WOLVERINES! And I STILL LOVE trash to this day. AITA and Am I the Devil are my two favorite subs on Reddit for those trashy dopamine hits. And I just happened upon this. 03 — SINCE YOU ASKED What drew me in on this one is—the title says it. But I almost gagged and was outraged in the FIRST paragraph. DUDE! Since he asked if he is the A-Hole—and IAS LOVES to call it like she sees it and promised to use her Narco-DeTector and Decoder—we are going to go basically one line at a time to answer Spiritual_Estate4079’s question: “AITA for playing a game while my pregnant wife was scared?” YES. OK, that is all I needed. Thank you all for tuning in to I AM SOULFIRE today. I jest. Yet I personally do not need to go any further to know this guy. RED FLAG #1 is in the title. But since a promise is a promise, let’s continue. “Getting pregnant was difficult for us, and it exacerbated a pattern we had observed before of me putting my feelings aside to give her what she wants…” Difficult “for us”—or for her? Because you immediately make it about YOU putting YOUR feelings aside to give her what SHE wants. And “a pattern WE had observed”? I’m thinking that WE is doing a lot of work here. This sounds like YOUR complaint, sir. “In an attempt to reconcile that, we agreed I needed something extra curricular.” WE again. You keep saying WE, sir. I’m calling that framing debatable. This sounds like YOUR complaint and YOUR solution—but you’re presenting it as a joint decision. “I need some fucking friends.” That comes off as HOSTILE AF. We just went from a composed explanation to resentment. Man child baby vibes. “Or at least friendly acquaintances outside my house.” OUTSIDE your house? That has “my wife isn’t friendly” vibes to me. Home is already demands and sacrifice; outside is where you hope to find friendliness. And I’m guessing you lack these things because you’re a prick. You asked. This is what IAS THINKS. 04 — THE SUPER SETTER THIS paragraph is TOP TIER FOR ME. This is all IAS is going to say here: I note your excitement for “a group of complete strangers”—because they don’t yet know the A-HOLE that you are. AND DUDE, STFU—it is a fucking REC volleyball team. Get the F over yourself. OH MY GOD OMG OMG!!! IAS is hearing the emphasis on “light” spotting—and the doctor said it was fine. And then, OF COURSE—on the day of your first game, the Super Setter is driving with your boner, and SHE CALLS. You didn’t say “hysterical,” but you did. SHE is concerned enough RIGHT NOW that she is going to go to the ER. Because she couldn’t possibly know what feels different to her at that moment, with your child inside her. She is worried and has been for a week, while you have only been dreaming of GAME DAY, where you can prove yourself to all your new friends. I also need to let you know: THIS is the paragraph that made this post my first Dispatch like this. And out of all this outrageousness, the line that SENT ME was: “When I am able to understand that her condition has not changed, and I get a version of her conversation with the nurse, I tell her I am very sure there is no reason to go in to the ER.” “A version of her conversation with the nurse.” THAT is what SENT ME. IAS is hearing that she changed the narrative to try to get you to go with her. You’re already framing her account as something she shaped to pull you away from GAME DAY. AT THIS POINT, I am Googling private eyes. I mean, what could have POSSIBLY changed in a week? Dr. Setter??? Pffft. So me, being more reasonable and not emotional—I TOLD HER what was best: STAY HOME. And I am going to go play a game. K, babe? Relax!!!!!! CHILL. I NEED this—for US!!!!!!!!!! 05 — TRANQUILA OK, I need to skip ahead because I can’t with him. “Or at least if I’m there she’s got less cortisol…” That is a buzzword that is triggering IAS right now -breathe IAS, breathe 1-2-3, RELAX, 1-2-3, RELAX Dr. Setter now realizes his mere presence could have lowered her cortisol. YOU DISGUST ME, Dr. Setter. Just please—STFU. NEXT: “Skipping that game would have really screwed both teams…” DUDE, IT IS A F’ING REC VOLLEYBALL GAME. GET OVER YOURSELF AND YOUR IMPORTANCE IN LIFE, AND THAT GAME, AND THAT TEAM. I am guessing by this time YOU HAVE BEEN OUTED and are again seeking complete strangers to play with. AND THEN THIS: “My wife was wrong to be so worried, but she was worried.” The steam you produced out of my skull was intense. No, dude—your wife was not wrong to be worried about her light spotting. Your wife was wrong to say “I do” to you! Like I said, the thing this post lacked most for me was never seeing the words “my ex-wife” --- JUST ONCE And this dude sounded so much like Bro to me. I want anyone who needs this decoding to see clearly what he is saying and doing. Work with THOSE facts—not what he insists is fact. See him for who he is—and file for divorce. THE BONUS — SUNDAY AFTERNOON OK, listeners—I must end this for today. I got carried away, lost track of time, and need to abruptly disconnect. Those are my thoughts before reading the comments—but I still have to show you the goods. Try to find me again this Sunday afternoon for the BONUS. Get the popcorn ready. We’ll see what THE COMMENTS SAY—and whether Dr. Setter has anything to add. “Freaks Come Out at Night” by Whodini is dedicated to SIDs everywhere. Watch the video—it is 1984 OG AUTHENTIC style. Vibes that are delicious to my eyes. But, no ranch for me, no thank you —G-ROSS! This has been Part 1 of a special, by-request I AM SOULFIRE Dispatch: IAS CALLS EM’ LIKE SHE SEES EM’, featuring the IAS NARCO-DeTector & DeCoder. If you have enjoyed this kind of Dispatch, please leave a comment. And if you have something you would like IAS to run through the DeTector & DeCoder, send me an email or drop a link to the story—and tell me your WHY. This has been another I AM SOULFIRE DISPATCH Over and out—until Sunday! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

2. 

   16 Oct 2026

   What If It Was Never Me? | Stop Explaining, Toxic Relationships & SELF-RESPECT | I AM SOULFIRE D4

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE I AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect. ⚠️ WARNING: DR — The Doctor, The Author, and Narrator has had a potty mouth since she was about eight years old. I finally decided to embrace my potty mouth as a superpower and use my natural gifts to help change the world — one heart, one soul, and one family at a time. So if your ears are too delicate for the likes of I AM SOULFIRE... you are most definitely in the wrong place and should now — scroll, bounce, eject, mute, or.... something. LAST WEEK ON I AM SOULFIRE… I introduced you to Mims and told you about our phone call. She called my Bro/Biff a bully. I pushed back hard and tried to hold that line, but she snuck on through. By the end of that call & after pulling up more than enough data on the computer, I knew she was correct. I also accepted the fact that I now considered Bro to be in the narco-traits & trending zone—or, as I now call it, the N-Zone. Mims had to go, but she sent me two videos on IG and asked me to watch them. I did not have it in me to consume one more piece of information, so I headed to my favorite park with my super senior dog. I knew what I had discovered on the call with Mims was unfortunately accurate. Now I had to take in what that meant. 01 — RUMINATING By the time I got to the park, I had completely accepted that Bro was in the N-Zone. I did not need any more information about that right then. I had enough running through my head already. Fifty-five years with Bro and everything I already knew about Narcos. Suddenly, all of it was connecting at once and fast, like my ballet terms last week. I recall I had a gamut of emotions — aargh! Another confession: I ruminate. I dwell. I loop. Hyperfixate, if you will. So although I had gone to the park to clear my head, that is not exactly what The Doctor does. Now I had a bunch of questions running through my head. How could I have not seen it? How did it take so long to see it? How did it take so long to Get HERE!?!?!? WTF! And then a long list of: Ohhhhh, no wonder I could never get through to him. Ohhhhh, no wonder explaining never worked. No wonder he never takes accountability and can do no wrong. No wonder I could tell him something hurt me and somehow also end up explaining why I was hurt, defending how I felt, and always trying to find another way to explain it. I had been working on myself and my relationships and improving my communication skills for at least half my life. Working on... my issues. My problems. My sensitivities. My complexes. My reactions. My insecurities. How I communicate. How I react. How I am too dramatic. How I am too sensitive. How I show up. How I contribute. And... how I can do better. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe I took things too personally. Maybe I needed to toughen up. Maybe I did need thicker skin. Maybe if I stopped reacting. Maybe if I explained it differently. Maybe if I explained it better. Maybe if I explained it a different way. Maybe if I explained it with better words. Maybe if I rearranged my words better. Maybe this. Maybe that. All THAT work. All those attempts to connect, sharing things with him, trying to get close and feel accepted as is. Decades of trying to be someone he would pick first and push on the f’king Big Wheel. Then I thought—what had he been working on to improve things with me all these years? What progress had Bro been making to make gains on the emotional maturity scale? I was always TOO something & Bro was always TOO nothing—doing nothing, no harm, all in fun, just Bro, being Bro—ALLOWED... allowed to tease and fuck with me, make me cry and laugh about it. And then THEY would all say, “If you would just ignore him, he would stop doing it.” REALLY???? WTF!!!! As if I was the one at fault. As if I was making him pick on me. I was always told to stop reacting—he was never told to stop intentionally TRYING to make me react for his enjoyment. Does anyone out there see how f’ed up this is???? Why did they naturally protect him and never protect me? It wasn’t just Mom and G. It was uncles and other relatives—his spouse said it within the last 4 years! So now here we were, 55 and 60, and he had just told me he was not going to stop, that he... can’t, basically. Now I am thinking—this whole time it has been his behavior that has been the problem for me. What if I had spent decades trying to fix “something” in ME that was never going to change how HE treated me? Now everything over the years is making sense—all at once. I now recall calling him the most self-centered, self-absorbed human I had ever met around Christmas 2013—I was so used to it, but as I am flipping through my memory’s rolodex, I see in my 40s I was like, bruh... why do you even want me to visit??? NOT FUN! A warning from a longtime friend with professional credentials and years of experience working with troubled teen girls who were considered Narcos and/or children of Narcos came flooding in: “Just remember, you will never beat a narcissist unless you become one. Outside of borderline personality disordered people, narcissists are the worst!” Granted, that is just her professional opinion based on experience—so, there’s that F-WORD! Knowing what I already knew about Narcos, this was a lot to take in. I actually kind of want to hurl a little revisiting this moment TBH! Because now what? What do you now do with this amount of information? Dear Google: What do you do when you are 104 and discover your brother is a Narco? 02 — WHAT IS HE OFFERING? Multiple strong older women drove a sentiment home for me so many times I’ve adopted it as my own -- when someone tells you or shows you who they are, BELIEVE THEM. And I believe what I decoded in Bro’s text: He could not see that he was doing anything, let alone anything wrong, harmful or hurtful. He can’t not bring certain things up sometimes, because ______________ (fill in the blank). He can’t see the harm in bringing up certain things that hurt me, because he finds it funny. He finds his good times more important than how his good times make me feel like shit. Basically, I am such a basket case that I don’t know how to interpret my own feelings and often misunderstand. No, you are wrong, DR, again, I am not doing anything and you are __________ and these are the facts. You always get it wrong, DR. He talks to me like a condescending C-U-Next-Tuesday and I do not like or enjoy it. In THE TEXT, I had tried one more way of talking to Bro. A different approach. I told him it hurt without any emotional reactions. And there, in his own words in the exchange, was what he had to offer me. I told you last week that as I reread his words in the night light, I could see it. The call with Mims and what I pulled up on the computer connected the rest. I know this territory. I knew how difficult it was to get through to someone operating in it. And now I could see why all my explaining, all my sharing, all my attempts to get closer had gotten me here. I was too tired to come up with another maybe. So what did Bro actually have to offer me in this relationship? A steaming pile of dookie. Get out you little bag and pick that up! Then I decided to flip the lens and look at “The Relationship” -- as just A relationship without any “titles” on the two participants. Then, ok, what if I was “dating” this person? Looking only at the pros and cons, how this person treats me and knowing what I know -- what would DR do? And I hear that one soundbite -- Ew. Brother. Ew -- NOOOOOO THANK YOU. Seriously, if a man had spent years treating me this way and I had told him it hurt, and he essentially told me he didn’t care, enjoyed laughing at me, and that I should expect more of the same out of the blue—would I keep trying to find the perfect way to explain myself? Would I be expending this kind of energy to get him to pick me? Would I keep working towards what I hoped he might eventually offer? And I come to no. No. N O. I would not put up with this treatment from a “partner”. But this was Bro. I didn’t choose him to relate with. I had been born into this relationship, and somehow that meant I was supposed to keep taking and tolerating whatever he offered. And not only that, it was like -- I should actually appreciate and enjoy the stale and nasty breadcrumbs rotting in the cracks of the floor - no, thank you! I can’t divorce my brother. Can I? I want to file for sibling divorce, please! Anyone else? Anyone? Anyone? 03 — BASTA Enough is enough. That was the phrase running through my head. I have a favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe in Italy. It is counter service, similar to a buffet, but they serve you the portions—you can get as much or as little of the day’s offerings as you want. The one word you need between you and your portion compiler is basta. They may make eye contact & ask, or you indicate with a nod & basta—enough. Years later, it came in handy in Havana. Suffice to say I might stick out there as a non-native, and I know my role there. People were so hospitable, some of the most incredible humans I have ever met. This woman approached me on the street in conversation. My Spanish was meager then, but I engaged at my level. I was walking to a concert. She walked with me, we stopped for mojitos, I took her in a taxi with me to the concert, I paid for her to get in, I bought her drinks and paid for a cubby to watch her purse. I was there for the Musica Cubana and to dance Timba. I met this wonderful couple, and they invited me to sit at their table. They both spoke English. It was the perfect setting for my style. But this little Mami would not leave me alone. My couple was even buying her drinks at this point. It had been hours, and it had now become... kind of aggressive and weird. I don’t know what it is, but... I experience that give an inch, take a mile thing—all the time. I was there strictly for the famous band and dancing. My Spanish was not strong enough then to tell her what I wanted to say, so I was searching my mind for something—anything to get her to stop bugging me. I don’t want to dance with these men you keep bringing to me. I don’t need your help. Please, just let me be. Gracias, no gracias, estoy bien. Basta ala pasta! YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!! I gruffly blurted out: “BASTA” with hands in the air, like an Italian. By the look on her face—it translated—message received. Freedom! Italy: enough food. Havana: Enough of you little Mami And now, Bro. Enough of YOU. Enough of trying to get through. Enough of wondering what I could do differently while he kept offering the same thing. I knew what was on the plate. I did not want another helping. “Enough is enough.” CUE THIS WEEK’S SOUNDTRACK. NO MORE TEARS (ENOUGH IS ENOUGH) — Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer. Two fabulous queens from my upstairs record collection. I loved Babs and Donna and particularly enjoyed this song. Seems like Little DJ SOULFIRE musta felt it back then too. “Enough is Enough—I can’t go on, I can’t go on no more - no.” That was where I was. I could not keep going like this anymore. But how do you handle a Narco when the Narco is your brother? 04 — WHAT MIMS SENT Eventually, I made my way home, made some coffee, found my password, and got logged onto the IG to settle in for Mims’s suggested viewing. The one she needed me to see was less than a minute long—“How to deal with disrespect from a family member.” The therapist woman started talking about what happens when we grow up in a dysfunctional family As children, we cannot simply remove ourselves from the people hurting us. Some of us needed those people to survive. Then we grow up, and we can keep trying harder and harder to get them to change. To treat us better. We defend ourselves. We keep looking for the thing we can say that will finally get through. And we keep blaming ourselves. Well. That sounded familiar. Then she got to the part Mims wanted me to hear: Remove yourself. Access to you is valuable. Your role is not to teach people how to behave or get them into therapy. You can move on without getting the explanation, the agreement, or the closure. Disrespect can mean they lose access to you. OH. Because after 55 years of being told to just ignore him, stop reacting, stop letting him get a rise out of you, here was an entirely different option. “Just ignore him” still required me to be there and show up. Still available. Still accessible. Just taking it better. She was giving me permission to leave him. She was telling me—I was allowed to stop participating in this dynamics that I didn’t enjoy. And suddenly The Doctor could see two actual plated options sitting in front of her. One choice, Bro’s: a steaming pile of dookie. The other: self-respect. Dignity. Sanity. Peace—and a different kind of Grace. 05 — COMMENTS SECTION I will leave links to versions of the shorts she sent here. I didn’t keep links to the OGs.Best way to deal with disrespect (https://youtu.be/PeYttPndnJw?si=ghslJYvq-WJPQRXE) - The Holistic Psychologist The comments section is always the place I like to voyeur, and the comments on post 1 did not disappoint. People were describing far worse shit than Bro ever did to poor little hard-done-by DR. So many there, trying to make sense of what happened to them, what was still happening - is still happening as adults, and what to do about it. (I WENT ROGUE HERE in the read aloud) I remember one sister talking about her dickhead sibling, and somebody says: GET OVER IT. I wanted to comment: YOU GET OVER IT —how bout you leave us your address. 06 — THEN THERE’S THE DUDE The second video was titled “How to deal with an emotionally immature parent (EIP) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BybBu-K4lxc)”—Mims was dealing with her infuriating Boomer Dad, Dude. Here’s Mims, a grown woman, with a grown son, being talked down to by this man as though she was still five years old and could not possibly know what she was talking about—_________ (insert topic). Father Knows Best—when Dude has clearly displayed, over and over, that he clearly does not. Mims and I are both at a place where we are about ready to start riots over the systems—hierarchy, patriarchy, misogyny, sexism, male privilege, golden-boy bullshit—we were born into and which have enraged us both since we were able to put the needle on the record—put the needle on the record—put the needle on the record...by our own selves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We are over being women expected to accommodate badly behaved men—and over women being expected to accommodate badly behaved men, period. Men talking down to us and other women. Now that we are old BNOTCHES, we have considerably less tolerance for demeaning shit from men... and poorly behaving people. Sorry. I said it. IAS calls it like she sees it. So does Mims. SOCIETY’S PLACEMAT I have already talked about how our homes, schools, our era, my generation, The TV and the world around us helped shape Bro and me and our peers. Boys’ roles, and girls’ roles—what was and was not acceptable behavior for each column. In my little unit on the block, Bro played football and I took ballet and shook my pom poms with glee. We were practically the quintessential boy/girl roles of 1975. His world taught push. Defend. Hold the line. Tackle. Force the other side to bend and give. Mine taught me to know my position. Perfect my character. Accept correction. Dance with whoever I was assigned—even a bad partner, a bad fit Starve Practice Practice makes perfect Dance through pain with a smile And on the sidelines, shake my pom poms and cheer for the boys and their fragile egos. Nobody had to hand either one of us the playbook. We were simply lived inside it. This is one of the reasons I like Lundy Bancroft, an author and longtime expert on abusive and controlling behavior. His work backs up a lot of what my gut had already been telling me. And I especially like that he is far more interested in behavior than labels. Because I do not need to know what he IS to know what he DOES. And what people actually DO. What they expect other people to tolerate. Who is supposed to adjust. He also points out that abusers CAN change. But that it is not an easy path. You have to know what you are dealing with, know what real change actually looks like, and know how to keep yourself safe. And he talks about how boys are conditioned by the culture around them— what it means to be a man, what they are entitled to expect from women, and what women are expected to tolerate. Those boys grow up and become men. “I’ve always dreamed I’d find the perfect brother — but he turned out to be like every other man.” Which, of course, takes The Doctor right back to the playbook. Actions speak louder than words. And when the actions and the words are telling me the same thing, I need to pay attention. And this is part of why I AM SOULFIRE exists. I am willing to bare my soul and share my experiences because I want to help people recognize the behaviors, patterns, and warning signs before they become deeply involved with someone who displays them. Especially the covert ones. Some people can keep those traits under the radar for years, some even well into a marriage. The signs may have been there all along, but nobody knew what to look for. I’ve watched people I love get caught into those webs. I want to help others recognize the signs before they get caught, too. I will come back to Lundy with you another day. I like the way he uses words to describe all of this. He is playing for my team, not Bro’s. He’ll probably reach out to be on the podcast, I am guessing. LOL 07 — R-E-S-P-E-C-T So what does R-E-S-P-E-C-T mean to The Doctor? I know how Bro treats me. I know how it feels. I told him it hurts. He told me what he has to offer. And I believe him. That is respect too. Respecting the information in front of me. Respecting my own experience. Respecting my own dignity. Respecting myself. I had spent most of my life trying to get better at handling disrespect. At 55, The Doctor was starting to ask a different question: Why am I handling it at all? I can love you. I can have compassion for you. And I still do not have to abandon my dignity or self-respect to stay close to you... from a distance. BASTA YA! THE REFLECTIVE BURN We are born into roles long before we know there are roles. Sometimes we spend half our lives learning how to perform them better. How to adjust. How to stay in step. How to reassemble ourselves. How to dance through the pain and still smile for the audience. And sometimes the biggest changement of all is realizing you do not have to keep dancing. Maybe you can leave the stage. SOUL CHECK-IN Is there a relationship in your life where you are still doing all the changing? Have you spent so much time trying to explain yourself, react better, communicate differently, or be less sensitive that you never stopped to ask whether the other person’s behavior was the thing you needed to pay attention to? What might become visible if you stopped doing the old moves? Maybe you need to flip YOUR POV of my story too to see your narco better — from Bro to Parent or Sister... and/or, most importantly, the person sleeping next to you. Drop a comment. I want to know. And if Little DJ SOULFIRE were upstairs in her recording studio with her band right now, she would cue Track #08 and grab a sick, repulsive, electric AIR twanger. You can play one too—or, if you wanna play drums, that would be cool too, I mean, if you wanna be in my band! SMOKE ON THE WATER — a fire in the sky NEXT ON I AM SOULFIRE... The Doctor is taking a little break from Bro. Next week, we are heading to Reddit. One man. One Am I the Devil? story. His own words. And The Doctor is running the whole thing through the I AM SOULFIRE Narco-DeTector and Decoder so you can see exactly what lights up — and why. Because sometimes people tell you exactly who they are. You just have to know how to read what they are showing you. This has been another SOULFIRE Dispatch. Over and Out...... Eeeeeey, break a leg, Frank!SEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c&si=IdM--OFeBMNAo5tf) | YOUTUBESEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61dOONxOoxvcNxstWuoXaP) | SPOTIFY Songs in this Dispatch: 07 / NO MORE TEARS (ENOUGH IS ENOUGH) — Barbra Streisand & Donna Summer 08 / SMOKE ON THE WATER — Deep Purple 09 / BONUS TRACK - PUMP UP THE VOLUME — M/A/R/R/S This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

3. 

   9 Oct 2026

   THE TEXT Part 2 | Gen-X Family Dynamics, Narcissistic Sibling & Gaslighting | I AM SOULFIRE D3

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCEI AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect.Welcome back to Part 2 of THE TEXT. Today’s confessions: ⚠️ WARNING - DR — The Doctor, The Author, and narrator — is a late bloomer, has a slow processor, and has had a potty mouth since she was about eight years old. ⚠️ Allegedly, there is a thing called taboo-word fluency — so maybe this potty mouth is not a character flaw after all and perhaps it does not actually make me less than, Miss Fancy. I’ve finally embraced my potty mouth as a superpower and am just putting my natural gifts to good use here. So if your ears are too delicate for the likes of IAS... you are most definitely in the wrong space and should now — scroll, bounce, eject, mute, or something. If you are staying, this is going to be a long one, so get comfy. Last week I shared MOST of THE TEXT. Before writing this Dispatch, I listened to Part 1 — like you should — to make sure I wasn’t leaving out anything important, or, frankly, to see if it was even making any sense to anyone out there. Because I am all about being a better communicator and having better relationships, and I want to make sure nobody comes back later like: It would have been good to know that before now. You recognize the voice. And, dear readers... Shocker. I forgot a key chunk of words. In error. To error is human. You all know this is a human speaking to you, correct? You do know this is not AI? Please tell me you know this is not AI by leaving a comment if you are not a bot yourself! I am going to leave THE TEXT in this Dispatch — depending on where you are hearing me from — as Exhibit A. Redacted, obviously. The line I left out is relevant and helps explain something I am not sure Part 1 made clear enough. A few months earlier, I had shared something personal with Bro after reading an article that helped something make sense to me. Then, out of nowhere, completely unrelated to this conversation — or the other two times he had brought it up — he brought up this “f’ing thing” for the third time. Inappropriately. Again. And by the third time, I had my: I’m not going to take it anymore moment. Cue Track 4 on the IAS soundtrack (https://youtu.be/V9AbeALNVkk?si=7NT9UjFt8D_jn_cz). This time I was not going to let it slide. Eventually Bro asked: “Why should you regret telling me something that is important to understand how you respond to certain things?” And then I sent three texts in a row: “You clearly don’t understand. Your now bringing it up — the way you do that is ever so funny to you — completely minimizes BEEP [the share] — I don’t feel supported — I feel made fun of and minimized and you have some situation in your reality that your humor is funny to the person you are hurting and I am not backing down that you are hurting me over and over.” “So yea — now I regret telling you — because you are just making it worse.” “Between us.” And then Bro said: “I will try to be more mindful of how you feel about this issue.” And I said: “I would appreciate that.” Now. I have made some pretty grande statements about THE TEXT. That it changed everything. I’m so dramatic! That I did something different. That something changed inside me. That I started seeing things differently. And listening back to Part 1, I realized the thing I did differently was so microscopic that you may have missed it completely. Because to a normal person this may look like: She stopped and thought before answering a text. Okay? And...??? I am sure it looks so basic, right? But for me, with Bro, that was not basic. Normally, I would rapid-fire back whatever came to mind. Useful. Not useful. Fuck off. You’re a dick. Whatever. This time: Stop. Read. Think. How do I want to respond? Not: What do I want to fire back? I wanted to stay on topic. I wanted to be clear. And THAT was new for me. Because part of my role in this relationship had always been: REACT. This time, I was not giving him the regular reaction. My texts were coming more slowly. Differently. I stayed on one line. You are hurting me. And I am not backing down that you are hurting me over and over. I set a boundary. The first one I had ever set with him. It may not look like a boundary to you at all. There was no ultimatum. No giant speech. No threat that I was leaving. The boundary was: I am not going to get dragged into proving your intent this time. I am telling you the impact. I am telling you I do not find this funny. I am telling you that you are hurting me. And I am not backing down from that because you explain your intent differently. THAT was new. And eventually he sent: “I will try to be more mindful of how you feel about this issue.” He stopped pushing. I said: “I would appreciate that.” And I was proud of myself. All day. But the exchange still rubbed me the wrong way. THE BALLET WORDS And before I tell you what happened that night, apparently I need to tell you something about ballet. Because while I was trying to explain this Dispatch to myself, I needed an old ballet term and did not know how to spell it. I knew exactly how it sounded because I can still hear it being called across the studio: ah-sahm-BLAY. I heard that word God knows how many times growing up. But I never needed to know how it was spelled. It was a command. Queenie said it. My body knew what to do. End of transaction. So I typed something like: ballet term “ah sam bley” into The Google. And The Google gave me: Assemblé. And the instant I saw Assemblé, I also instantly saw: Assemble. Wait. What? So naturally I had to know what the OTHER word Queenie always said was. Changement. The instant I saw it: Change-ment. NO…………Absolutely not. I laughed so hard about this for around forty minutes that I finally had to call Mom. Because Queenie had also been Mom’s ballet teacher when she was a girl. And Mom can still hear the Queen’s voice in her head too. For ten years of my life, many hours a week, I heard those French words over and over and over. I never felt the need to see them on paper. Mom and I were talking about that and remembered there was even an optional little bougie side class at the SOD where apparently we could have learned all this terminology. Neither one of us took it. Mom looked it up and read me the description. It sounded so boring. I said: Phew. Thanks for not sending me to that. I don’t think I would have liked it. And she was like - Yeah. Me either. So forty years later... here we are… longer for Mom, lol. And THAT is finally the metaphor. The instant I saw Assemblé, I could see assemble. The instant I saw Changement, I could see change-ment. Glissade... I just knew was glide in my head. I didn’t need to see it written to know. I laughed. All these years, THAT is what she was saying. I can’t really explain why I find this so hilarious, but basically Queenie had been saying: GLIDE. ASSEMBLE. CHANGE. CHANGE. So simple. I didn’t need to know how the words were spelled. I didn’t even need to know what they literally meant. I just comprehended her language. GLIDE. ASSEMBLE. CHANGE. CHANGE. And honestly... that is pretty good instruction for life too. Maybe that is why I still hear it in the back of my mind. The words had always been sitting right there. I just could not see them. Until I could. UP ALL NIGHT That night, I went to bed proud of myself. Then sometime in the middle of the night I woke up, grabbed my phone, and read THE TEXT again. And suddenly... Oh. I can read this now. Not merely what he said. What he was doing with language. And I had never seen it that way before. One explanation became another explanation. Then came “fact.” Then my supposed misunderstandings. Then he was making sure I wasn’t misinterpreting. Then maybe he was doing it because he thought it was funny. Then the private information was supposedly important so he could know how I respond to certain things. I am trying to hold onto the point, but now I also have to keep track of: Wait. What is the point now? What are we even talking about now? Is this about humor? Intent? A fact? My interpretation? How I respond? Why am I suddenly trying to follow all of these explanations when the thing I was trying to say was actually very simple? You are hurting me. And I was lying there getting more and more irritated. What fact? What are you talking about? Why are you telling me how I interpret things? Why does the explanation keep changing? Why do I feel like I am trying to hold onto one simple point while the language keeps carrying me somewhere else? Do you feel dizzy??? I feel dizzy just reading this. THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE. You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round right round, round (http://IAS_banner_of_LOVE)— or like a bad salsa partner that keeps on spinning you with turns until you have to say, excuse me, sir. I need a break. PEACH SCHNAPPS! 🤢 I felt talked down to. Handled. Disrespected. Confused. It was exhausting. And that is when something started cracking open. Because during the exchange, I had changed my performance. And during the night reread, I started changing the way I saw his. Those were two different things. Conversation is a dance. And from adult lived experience — Doctor DJ, La Timbera speaking — partner dancing works a whole lot better when you know how to flow with the person in front of you. Queenie taught me well enough that I can partner dance with just about anyone. But that does not mean I enjoy every dance. I hope this better explains The Great Impact of THE TEXT. There is so much more to come that I cannot yet disclose because IAS functions like a soap opera, y’all. HOW WE GOT HERE — ROLE CALL Well... this is how I got here. I was born INTO MY ROLE in my family that was already fully up and running when I came through the portal. Bro was already there. The only boy. The first child. Mom was a single mother. We lived with G in the house Mom grew up in with her sibs. And although Bro was still just a boy, there was also this strange little man of the house energy around him. Nobody announced it. There was no coronation. No tiny crown. No family meeting. It was just... there. Since Bro was always in my life, unlike me to him, I had to learn to find my place within a unit that was already established — in a world of systems that was already established — and I had to learn to “fit in” — to... survive. That is what we all do. I was born in 1970, LAST CENTURY — thanks for pointing that out, LUKE — in the Midwest, USA. Straight-up Gen X. My name is DR, they call me The Doctor. I am a Capricorn, so check me out, check me out. Shaboom, cha-cha, shaboom — ROLL CALL. That was our cheer at the time. At least that is how I remember it. I actually went looking for audio because I could not remember whether it was SHA-boom or CHA-boom. And all I can find now is: Shabooya Roll Call. Hmmmm. Is this one of them there Mandela Effects? Anyway... ROLE CALL. Pun intended. That is another sound bite that lives in my head from when I was five. MY BABYSITTER and BFF is THE TV The point is: we were all being taught roles. At home. At school. On the playground. And especially... in front of The TV. Because Gen X grew up in front of The TV. The TV was the babysitter. The TV was background noise. The TV was after school. The TV was Saturday morning. The TV was nighttime. I knew what day of the week it was by what was going to be on prime time. No one needed the TV Guide but old people. Tuesdays and Saturdays were — the best, IMHO. We literally had furniture called: TV TRAYS. Because we needed somewhere to PUT OUR DINNER while we sat in front of The TV. That is how in front of The TV we were. And this is where the hierarchy inside my own house becomes almost comically literal. This was a nightly thing: Biff, what do you want for dinner? I never got asked what I wanted for dinner. Biff, do you want green beans or creamed corn? CREAMED CORN. DOCTOR!!! Run down to the cellar and grab some creamed corn. Why do you always ask HIM what he wants, and then I HAVE to go down to the cellar to get it? WTF, G??? Oh...... you’re so hard done by.... now go get the corn. Another line I heard on the reg. And every night: BIFF………. dinner. And in G’s mind? She was calling us both. She genuinely was. That was the call. Biff has been called. Therefore all have been summoned to dinner. One day the Little Doctor decided to wait to be called to dinner. G eventually comes looking for me. What are you doing? I called you to dinner. No, didn’t. Yes, I did. I called and said dinner was ready. I said, you called BIFF, and said dinner is ready. You always call Biff. You never call ME to dinner. Same thing! NO IT ISN’T. And you never ask ME if I want green beans or corn. “Ok Sarah Burnheart.” [Sarah Bernhardt; I heard BURN-HEART] And another line I heard on the reg. Then we would take our plate to the TV room and sit down with our food on our TV trays and eat in front of The TV. Usually Brady Bunch. If Bro was home…. I never got to pick what we watched. There were approximately four television stations, and this twat would choose golf, or tennis, Star Trek, or that stupid David Carradine show — GOD, I hated that shit. He was King of the fucking castle. Master Bates. I missed out on ever enjoying Star Trek simply because if he liked it, it had to suck IMO. I never thought about it then. I was born into their normal and sat in front of it. The TV wasn’t merely entertaining us. It was showing us the world. What a man looked like. What a woman looked like. What a father looked like. What a mother looked like. What a hero looked like. What strength looked like. What weakness looked like. What boys did. What girls did. What was funny. Who got the girl. Who saved the day. Who was supposed to be tough. Who was supposed to adjust. And none of us sat there consciously taking notes. That is the point. It was just life. Eight is Enough! Boys grew up with — Rambo, Commando, Schwarzenegger, Stallone — and those characters were being shown to young men and boys as what a man should aspire to be. We look to media as role models. We were also watching demonstrations of what men were, what women were, what toughness was, what heroism was, what families looked like, and who was supposed to do what. Those were archetypes too. We were soaking all of it up while eating dinner off TV trays. Our parents were not hovering over us explaining the cultural subtext. They barely knew where we were. There was literally a nightly PSA: “It’s 10:00 p.m. Do you know where your children are?” YES, that was an actual PSA for our parents on The TV — simply to remind them to remember they had kids. You’ve heard about the ’80s. GenX’s parents were the ones doing blow and having the infamous key parties. ALL of this is part of how we got here. We went to school. We played all day. We disappeared. We came home when it got dark. Outside our house, The TV was showing all of us versions of what men, women, boys, girls, heroes, mothers, fathers, and families were supposed to look like. Nobody had to announce the hierarchy. We were already living inside it. BORN into it. FIRST GRADE REPORT CARD In first grade, age six, one of my report cards said: “The Doctor is too critical of the other students.” I was six. I still wonder what I was saying. Ummmm... your chimney is crooked?????? IDK. But seriously... DO YOU SEE WHAT TEACHER SAID????????? And according to Mom, turns out The Doctor was just born this way. PURE FUCKING COMEDY. More on that another day. Which brings me to Mims. MIMS Oh...... and then, my good friend Mims called. Mims is a few years older than me, so we are basically from the same Gen X planet. Different coasts. Different family setup. Different worldview when we met. But we both have a lot of the same kind of good, free, fun childhood memories — and we both had super awesome G’s. She had a dad and no mom. I had a mom and no dad. She is sibling-free. And there is just some shared essence between us that does not really need explaining. Mims is one of the most important people in my life. I have known her for almost half of mine. For the greater part of my adult life, she has basically been my relationship guidance counselor. Life. Family. Ego. Psychology. Relationships. Why people do what they do. Why WE do what we do. Mostly, though, we talk about ourselves. How we fit into things — or rather, DON’T. What we bring into relationships. What we can change. How we can become more peaceful and happier in our own lives. Mims has challenged me. She has helped me become less judgmental. She taught me to look back — through families, through generations — and ask how people became who they became. She has helped shape me. And trust me — you’ll be hearing more about Mims. Mims was also talking to me about narcissism in 1998, when nobody I knew was talking about this shit. She had helped me deal with it in someone else very close to me. But that person was not Bro. I wasn’t out there with my NARCO-TECTOR YET. And as I have already shown you in this Dispatch, sometimes I do not see what is there until I need to dissect it for myself. For my own life. My own journey. To make things easier. To make things better. THIS WAS MIMS So when Mims called the day after THE TEXT, this was not some random friend calling with a hot take about my brother. This was Mims. And I told her what happened. I told her about THE TEXT. I told her how I had handled it differently. I told her how proud I had been of myself. And then I told her what happened in the middle of the night. How I woke up. Read it again. Started writing. And could not make sense of why the whole thing had left me feeling so... handled. Talked down to. Disrespected. Confused. Like I was trying to have one conversation and somehow could never quite stay inside it. Mims listened. BULLY? And then, very lightly, she said: “Honey, from everything you’ve told me about your brother, he sounds like a bully.” No. No no no. Bully? What? DEFENSE. clap clap. DEFENSE. clap clap. That is my brother. That is just family. That is just how he is. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He is difficult. He can be a dick. He makes me mad. He upsets me. But my brother is NOT a bully. Sorry, Mims. And she said: “Well, sweetie... he sounds like a bully to me.” No. She had him wrong. Except... this is Mims. And I know Mims knows what she is talking about. She has a lifelong friend I will call Jax. I have never been part of Jax’s life directly, but after all these years with Mims, I know a lot of her story. And one of the most painful, repeating struggles in Jax’s life has always involved her brother. Every time things start feeling better. Safer. Maybe they are finally okay. Something happens again. Mims has watched that cycle for years. So when she started comparing some of what I was telling her to things she had watched other sisters live through, I listened. And at some point she said something like: “There are so many sisters all over the world in your position.” And I am still sitting there thinking: No. No, you have my brother wrong. Mims told me she was proud of me for handling him differently. And I told her something else. I told her the whole exchange made me feel crazy. And she said: “Yes. That’s called gaslighting.” OH GOD. Not that word. I hate trending buzzwords so much. Gaslighting? No. Yuck. Don’t. Wait. What even is that? NARCO TERRITORY So Mims started explaining. And somewhere in there... we entered NARCO TERRITORY. And now my eyes are about as wide as they can get. My brain is already mush. I have been up all night writing, trying to figure out what the hell I saw in that text exchange. And Mims is talking. And I am listening. THE GOOGLE And suddenly... I pull up The Google. I start seeing words. Bully. Gaslighting. Golden child. Golden boy. Narcissism. Somewhere in there, Mims tells me about another sister she knows — a Chinese friend — and the family’s Golden Balls. And I am taking all of this in at once. Then Mims starts sounding farther away. Like the teacher in Peanuts. Wah wah wah wah wah... Because I have typed: bully brother narcissism and hit enter. And there it is. Right in front of me. And everything I had been trying to make sense of since the middle of the night... the words, the arguments, the way the conversation moved, the way I felt, the relationship, the things I had spent years explaining away as: That’s just Bro. That’s just family. That’s just how he is. It all started filling in at once. Way too fast. My brain could barely keep up. MIMS WAS SPOT ON And somewhere inside the tailspin, I knew one thing. Mims was spot on. She had to go. But before she did, she remembered something she had just seen on Instagram. She told me: “I’m DM’ing it to you right now. Please watch it. I’m sending you two. I found them really useful. I’ll call and check on you later, okay? Please. I’m sorry you’re going through this. Love you.” THE WALK Now... I am not really an Instagram person. I don’t even have Instagram on my phone. I’m not cool like that. So going to IG and finding these things was going to require an actual effort on my part. And right then? I did not have one more piece of information in me. So I went for a walk with my most precious doggo — to get some air, clear my head, and take a few more laps around my favorite park. One of my favorite places. One of the things I already knew I was going to miss the most as my departure date crept closer. The videos were waiting. REFLECTIVE BURN Nothing on that phone changed overnight. Not one word. The conversation was exactly where we had left it. What changed was that I was reading it from somewhere different. I had spent years knowing how to respond to Bro. React. Get mad. Fire something back. Laugh. Fight. Move on. Whatever the moment called for. I heard the command. I knew what to do. I did it. I never stopped to read the word. Until I did. And once I could read it... I could not unread it. And then one day you see: P E N D E J O and you just know what it means. Maybe sometimes nothing outside of you changes at all. The same people are standing in the same places saying the same things they have always said. But something in you shifts just enough that what once looked completely normal suddenly becomes readable. And then somebody you trust says one word. Bully. And you say: No. Absolutely not. You have him wrong. Because that is your brother. Because you love him. Because you know him. Because this is just how he is. Because this is just family. Because this is... normal normal. Until maybe it isn’t. SOUL CHECK-IN What have you spent your life knowing how to respond to... without ever stopping to ask what you were actually responding to? Maybe you learned the command so long ago that you stopped seeing the word. Maybe you just knew your part. Your role. Your response. Glissade. Assemblé. Changement. Changement. Until one day... you can read the words. TO MIMS: From Little DJ SOULFIRE to Little DJ MIMS - I dedicated TRACK 05 “I BELIEVE” (https://youtu.be/H--_-gPX3Nw?si=IOMUFa5pS9d_KN31)on the 🔥 I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK — SEASON 1 - SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c) I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH MIMS! NEXT WEEK ON I AM SOULFIRE... Because apparently The Doctor has one more word to work on. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to The Doctor. This has been another SOULFIRE DISPATCH. Over and out. 🔥 I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK — SEASON 1 SEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c&si=IdM--OFeBMNAo5tf) | YOUTUBESEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61dOONxOoxvcNxstWuoXaP) | SPOTIFY Songs in this Dispatch: 04 / UP ALL NIGHT (https://youtu.be/H--_-gPX3Nw?si=IOMUFa5pS9d_KN31) — The Boomtown Rats 05 / I BELIEVE (https://youtu.be/H--_-gPX3Nw?si=IOMUFa5pS9d_KN31) — Stevie Wonder — FOR MIMS 🌸 06 / YOU SPIN ME ROUND (https://youtu.be/PGNiXGX2nLU?si=SsK__w53EFbkGi8t) — Dead or Alive This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

4. 

   2 Oct 2026

   THE TEXT Part 1 | Toxic Sibling Relationship, Boundaries & Betrayed Trust | I AM SOULFIRE D3

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCEI AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect. ⚠️ WARNING — I AM SOULFIRE has a potty mouth, so if that is not your cup of tea, please scroll on to something better suited for your taste, please. ⚠️When I was under 5 my grandmother, G, gave me a General Electric record player which was my world. Looking back it is such a HUGE part of my childhood. Where little DJ SOULFIRE got her start. My room was upstairs and I had A LOT of records. I spent hours by myself or I would have friends over and well, host dance parties basically. While writing this one, Playground in My Mind, is the one that asked to be this week’s Dispatch’s song. I loved this song so much that G had to buy me a second 45 because the first one was either played too much, that deek down the street took it, or… Biff. Irregardless!!!! G always had my back. Something about this man’s voice…. I LOVED IT!!!!! I didn’t consciously know his name or that he was a one hit wonder. Thank you Clint Holmes for that ONE because you’ve always been my Wonderman — THAT VOICE — I was OBSESSED then. Still obsessed now. THANKS G, I LOVE YOU. 01 — WHO HE IS, HOW HE TREATS ME I set a boundary that changed everything. If you read, watched, or listened to the Prologue, you may remember this: “I realized certain things from this exchange that exposed the dynamics of our relationship: who he is, how he treats me, how we got here, and how larger family and societal roles had contributed to where I was when I kind of... fractured, as I call it.” So let’s start here today on I AM SOULFIRE. Who he is, and How he treats me. And before we go any further, I want to be clear about something. I am telling you this story from where I was standing. From my experiences. From the way I experienced my brother and our relationship. Bro has his own experience of being my brother & I know that our accounts cannot be the same. Rashomon! I am not here to prove which sibling remembers every moment correctly or win some decades-long family argument. I am writing about what happened inside me. What I saw. What I felt. What I started noticing. And what changed when I stopped automatically accepting things I had accepted for most of my life. Writing is how I find my way through things. If showing you how I found my way through this helps you recognize something in your own life, question something you have always accepted, or try something different for yourself, then maybe there is something useful in telling it. They’ve always called me soooo dramatic. So I finally thought I’d put that superpower to good use. So, my brother is close to five years older than me, and at the time of the fracture, I had not started calling him Biff yet. The text exchange that would eventually lead us here started with a photograph I found while moving. It was a photo of Bro and my grandmother, G, who co-raised us with Mom, circa 1978 at a wedding. I know it was Bro, because I took the photo. He danced with G at some wedding, and I took the photo because G was so cute and I wanted to capture it — and I did. I loved that moment. I loved that photo. I miss her so much. I’d say she is the greatest bond Bro and I share, aside from Mom, of course. Why else would I have kept that photo all these years? G with some rando? Ridiculous. This was thirteen days before I would depart after living more than 30 years in one place and move across the country. Can you say STRESS! Anyway, it was a memory I loved. Mom and his spouse immediately recognized him. He didn’t. He sent me a funny text explaining all the reasons the person in the photograph could not possibly be him. It was hilarious. He can be pretty funny. I added the emoji with the three hearts on its face to his funny text and responded: ME “I AM CRYING.” That was it. THIS IS THE text that did it. Out of nowhere, and completely OUT OF CONTEXT — aka inappropriately — he came back with a sword and went straight for something vulnerable I had shared with him months before. WTF!!! AGAIN?!?!?! This was not new. Sorry, readers — I AM SOULFIRE is not willing to disclose THE text or the vulnerability behind it. At least not today. Bro bringing up very specific shit every now and then to “try to get a rise out of me” was nothing new. That is another one of those family phrases. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” He has been poking at very specific things to get a reaction out of me for as long as I can remember. What am I? Bread dough? Poke. Rise. Good times. But this time, I had shared something personal with him because I thought MAYBE, if he knew this one thing about me, he might stop making fun of me for something else. Instead, apparently, I had just handed him new material. It stung extra hard because I had actually been in a place where I thought Bro and I were making progress in our adult relationship. I wanted that. I was already sad about the relationship we had. And at 55, because of the work I had been doing, something different happened in me. 02 — EN GARDE I responded: ME “Dude — it’s super not cool to continuously make fun of me when I was trying to explain how things feel to me, and don’t act like you are being kind.” And then — Thrust. Parry. Riposte. BRO “I can’t not bring it up sometimes.” BRO “I am neither doing it to be kind nor hurtful. Just stating a fact.” BRO “If I know that sometimes you interpret things in a certain way, then why shouldn’t I make sure you are not misinterpreting?” I told him: ME “Ok, well now you are making me regret telling you, so thanks for that — and for always finding a way to be a dick without meaning to be a dick. Maybe you can call me from your deathbed to apologize in another 48 years.” Do you smell the smoke of another IAS story???? If yes, drop a 🔥 in the comments. Then came the line that you will all grow to be like STFU I AM SOULFIRE — if you say that one more time — POW — right in the kisser!!!!!!!!! BRO “And if I am doing it to be funny, in my unique way, what is the harm in that?” I told him: ME “It is hurtful to me — can you not accept that?” ME “Can you never, ever accept the fact that you continuously hurt me?” And he came back with: BRO “Why should you regret telling me something that is important to understand how you respond to certain things?” What is the harm in that? I was literally telling him the harm. 03 — SOMETHING DIFFERENT So what was it about THIS text exchange? Because this was hardly the first time my brother had been a dick to me. So why this one? Why did this one follow me into the middle of the night? I think maybe the answer is.... menopause! Ha. I had set a goal for 2025. I wanted to work on myself. Improve my communication. Improve my relationships. Be a better human. And during this exchange with Bro, I did something different. I paused. I read what he wrote. I thought about what I wanted to say. And then I responded. That was different for me. And I think because I was paying closer attention to my own words, for the first time, I started paying closer attention to his. Not just what he was saying. How he was saying it. 04 — TOUCHÉ This was at least the third time he had pulled out this particular thing I had trusted him with. The first two times, I let it go. This time, something in me went: Oh, fuck no. Because suddenly I could see this becoming a thing. Something I had trusted him with becoming another tool in his teasing toolbox for the rest of my life. And I regretted telling him. I told him I regretted telling him. But he kept explaining. He “can’t not” bring it up. I sometimes misinterpret things. He is making sure I don’t misinterpret. And if he thinks it’s funny, what is the harm? I was literally telling him the harm. Eventually he said: BRO “I will try to be more mindful of how you feel about this issue.” And part of me thought: FINALLY. I replied: ME “I would appreciate that.” I had done something different. And so had he. I went to bed proud of myself. 05 — READ THAT AGAIN But sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up, grabbed my phone, and read the exchange again. And this time, his words looked different. I could see something in them that I had never seen quite this way before. I couldn’t name it yet. I didn’t know what I know now. But what I heard underneath all of those carefully chosen words was something like: I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not changing. If I think it’s funny, I’m going to laugh. And your hurt does not change that. And THAT was the part that broke something open in me. Because for the first time, I began to see that maybe the relationship I kept hoping I could have with my brother was not a relationship my brother was capable of having with me. I wasn’t ending the relationship. I wasn’t going anywhere. But this? This ends here. So I started writing. 06 — REFLECTIVE BURN This is the struggle for me. As much as I struggle with, What is this relationship????? I think he is a dick to me. I question whether he even knows me. And yet I KNOW... If either of our lives were on the line and they said: BRO: What is your sister’s favorite song????? We would live to see another day. Someone you know you could call, out of the blue, no context, for that lifeline—or for proof to lord over others, lol. If I call The DR right now, I GUARANTEE she will say... “George Glass,” for example, and I never let him down. He would think of something or need to prove he was right—and he could call me for receipts. This part of what I struggle with. How can I question whether someone knows me when we have spent a lifetime carrying around pieces of each other’s history? And how can someone know me that well and still not hear me when I say: You are hurting me. I also need to add a note here too. THIS — THIS RIGHT HERE — THIS SECTION — also creates a fucked-up layer to my situation. I have more than one, but one VERY important friend in my life who lost her older brother last year. He wasn’t just her older brother, he was her person. It really sucks that he is gone. He didn’t pass until months after I had made the decision to go low contact with mine — but he got sick right around all of this. So things we could have talked about — things we used to talk about, about brothers, family, stupid jokes, inside jokes, lifeline stuff — became different for her too. For us. She understands the difference intellectually, obviously. BUT I love her too much to add to the pain she carries of ACTUALLY losing her beloved brother. My apologies to anyone else reading this who has lost theirs. I will not argue that it is not the same, but I too no longer have the person to call, as well. AND IT SUCKS. I always knew when my friend sent me one from her brother because they were so distinct. So specifically him. It is SO painful for me to know how much she struggles with losing her person.AND I HATE that I can’t talk to her like we used to LIKE I SAID — The text kind of changed everything. I didn’t mean just everything with Biff. 07 — SOUL CHECK-IN Do you have someone like that? Someone you could call out of the blue, give almost no context, and they would know exactly what you were talking about? Or someone who sends you incredibly STOOPID memes that somehow make perfect sense to you? Someone who carries your receipts. Maybe that is part of what makes some relationships so hard to make sense of. They know the stories. They know the names. They know the songs. And they know all your buttons, fuckers. But do they hear you? Drop a comment. I want to know who your lifeline person is — and whether being known has always meant being heard. 08 — NEXT ON I AM SOULFIRE I knew something had changed. I just couldn’t name it yet. The next day, my good friend Mims happened to call. And somewhere in that conversation, she gave me a word for something I had spent a lifetime calling something else. One word. And once I heard it... I could not unhear it. Next on I AM SOULFIRE: THE TEXT — PART 2. Anyway, I gotta go help some fosters and rescues. I can’t spend all day here talking about texts from 2025. Over and out. 🔥 I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK — SEASON 1 SEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c&si=IdM--OFeBMNAo5tf) | YOUTUBESEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61dOONxOoxvcNxstWuoXaP) | SPOTIFY Songs in this Dispatch: 03 / PLAYGROUND IN MY MIND — Clint Holmes I AM SOULFIRE is a stylized fictional dramedy inspired by lived experience. Names, places and identifying details have been changed. For entertainment purposes only. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

5. 

   25 Sept 2026

   Love Is a Battlefield | Family Bullying, Sibling Abuse & Generational Patterns | I AM SOULFIRE D2

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCEI AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect.⚠️ WARNING — I AM SOULFIRE has the mouth of a truck-driving sailor in this Dispatch, so if that is not your cup of tea, please scroll on to something better suited for your taste, please. “We are strong.Heartache to heartache we stand.No promises, no demands.Love is a battlefield.” — Pat Benatar, 1983 01 — BUT THEY’RE FAMILY What do people mean when they say, “But they’re family”? Do they mean the people who lift you when you fall, who defend you against the world, who teach you that love is a verb made of kindness? Because that definition of family sounds lovely. I’d show up for that. Or do they mean the people who belittle you, who call cruelty humor, who twist love into power and silence? Because if that’s what they mean, then “family” has become a euphemism for control. 02 — HOME SHOULD BE THE TRAINING GROUND FOR LOVE Home should be the training ground for love. It should be where we learn empathy, respect, support and kindness—where we first see how to treat other human beings well. Where we learn the unconditional love everyone claims to seek. What if, instead of poking at each other’s Achilles tendons, we clasped our hands and offered each other assistance and a boost up? What if the people closest to us noticed our natural gifts—the weirdness, the wild ideas, the things that light us up—and helped us develop them instead of laughing at them? Because when your own family laughs at the thing you think is kinda cool… your harebrained ideas,your likes and favorite things,your humor,your feelings,the way you express yourself… it can make you wonder: If my own family thinks this is stupid, who out there is going to like it? So we hesitate. We stop taking risks. We stay small. And then everybody wonders why little SOULFIRES are “not living up to their potential.” Hmmmmm. Wonder why? But when home becomes the first battlefield, we export that war everywhere. We raise children who mistake dominance for strength and submission for peace. We raise adults who think hurting people is normal—as long as it’s done in humor and garners a laugh. 03 — BE QUIET, STAY SMALL, PLAY ALONG When they say, “That’s just your brother,” what they really mean is, “Boys will be boys.” Shrug. “Boys are allowed to behave badly.” When they say, “That’s just how your father is,” they’re saying, “Everyone shrink and hide while the man-child sorts out his feelings.” When they say, “But they’re family,” I hear, “It really isn’t important how they treat you—you should make appearances for appearance’s sake.” What I have struggled with most of my life is being present for the sake of others—not just family—at the expense of my own inner comfort. After the fracture, I decided to choose myself going forward. Because, turns out, there actually is some Virtue in Selfishness. 04 — LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD Love shouldn’t be a battlefield. But it becomes one when we keep defending the wrong side. We keep protecting the image of family instead of the wounded people inside it. We tell the bullied to just ignore the bully instead of teaching the bully to stop—or maybe getting to the root of why this young soul is bullying in the first place. I used to think family meant forever. I didn’t question it—which is ironic, because that belief came from the very family dynamics I am now writing about. But the fracture changed that. Now, forever is no longer a given for them. How I feel and how I am treated matter more. For me, family should feel safe, like a refuge—drinking hot cocoa by the fire, just vibing in the light and warmth of the flames—too comfortable to even get up for another freshly baked cookie. Loyalty without respect feels like an unsafe obligation. “You’re beggin’ me to go, then makin’ me stay Why do you hurt me so bad? It would help me to know… Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you’ve had? Believe me, believe me, I can’t tell you why But I’m trapped by your love, and I’m chained to your side.” I want a family that makes life softer, not prickly—people who make life easier, not more difficult. My people, my pets—my joy and my peace—going to bed smiling and thankful, not sobbing into my pillow, praying no one hears me… or worse—flipping on the light to catch me in the act, filing it away for next year’s Thanksgiving jab. Spoiler alert—there is a story behind this. 05 — CHOOSE A NEW DEFINITION Love is a battlefield—but you can lay down your weapons and stop engaging in nonsense. You can choose a new definition. Family can be anyone who loves you unconditionally. Home is the place where you feel safe enough to be fully yourself. Start there. Maybe it starts now—with you, in your home, in your life. And you glow from there. Because look around. People are strained. Teachers are asking WTF is happening. People are scared about money. Public humiliation has become entertainment. Somebody is struggling and a phone comes out before a hand does. And no, that isn’t everybody. There are good humans everywhere helping, teaching, feeding, fostering, volunteering, showing up. But whatever is going wrong here does not appear to be self-correcting. And maybe some of the practical part is much more basic than we keep making it. Teach kindness. Model kindness. Choose kindness. Support somebody. Stop rewarding cruelty. Help where you can. Raise children who know the difference between recognizing another person’s weakness and weaponizing it against them. We have to do better. Be better humans. Raise better humans. IAS’S 2026 REFLECTION WATCH THE ORIGINAL VIDEOS While compiling this Dispatch for publication, I watched the original “Love Is a Battlefield” video. And holy shit. This Dispatch already had a video. Then, while I was editing, a second lyric came to me: We’re not gonna take it anymore… So I watched the original Twisted Sister video too. And holy shit—again. Both videos SHOW the mood and the vibe of this Dispatch—something I had no idea would happen when I wrote it in 2025. And take note of the girl on the bus in the Pat Benatar video. That dark future has not been written. It is still only a possibility—one created by the control and the ick at home. This is about so much more than teenage rebellion. There is still time to rewrite her future—by making home a better place to live. Watching these two music videos again brought back some truths—and some memories. And to my Gen Xers: I hadn’t seen either of these videos in decades. Watching them again was a blast from the past—in the best possible way. Turn up the volume. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND watching at least the opening of the OG Twisted Sister video if you truly want to witness what nightly dinner was like for many Gen Xers. Mark Metcalf plays an all-too-familiar father role for my people—and it is EPIC! But watch the mother and the little brother left at the dinner table. The little brother is snickering—giggling with GLEE—knowing his brother is about to get ripped a new asshole! And the mother stays seated. Quiet. Passive. The little brother is learning to laugh. The mother is modeling what it looks like to stay quiet. And the older brother is left alone with the RAGE. (MONSTER) That is how the cycle gets passed on. Some of us had it worse than others. But we all knew who to shrink and hide from. We tore our clothes hopping fences and climbing out windows, escaping fathers like this—and brothers like Biff and Chet. I AM SOULFIRE is an Experience. There are no coincidences. Watch the videos. 06 — REFLECTIVE BURN So maybe the question isn’t where the world went wrong. Maybe it’s where we thought better humans were supposed to come from. Because all those little humans eventually walk out the front door. And they are taking something with them. We are either teaching them to find the tender spot and wound—or to offer a hand and help someone rise. The Achilles tendon—or the boost. 07 — SOUL CHECK-IN Have you ever accepted behavior from family that you would never accept from anyone else? Has “but they’re family” ever been used to convince you to stay quiet, forgive something that kept happening, or keep playing a role that was hurting you? What would change if being family meant they were held to a higher standard—not given a free pass for a lower one? Drop a comment. I want to know what “family” means to you. For the younger readers who trash us Gen Xers—or envy us—these videos are true time capsules. Things of fucking art and statement pieces for us! When people talk about Gen X being strong, this is the origin—because our generation IS strong. All of this made us strong AF. And we are bonded through MTV and the music videos we played on repeat. “It’s my way or the highway” was a classic Gen-X vibe for many of us at home. “As long as you live under MY roof—as long as I’m the one paying the bills—” IT ALL MEANS: You will take whatever abuse and behavior that comes your way—and like it! They call us the forgotten generation. Raised to only speak when spoken to. Told to hush our mouths. But I have noticed an uptick in Gen Xers speaking out now that we have reached the age of wanting the kids to get off OUR lawns. Life—and behavior—seem to be out of control. We have remained silent for too long. And… We’re not gonna take it anymore… 08 — NEXT ON I AM SOULFIRE DISPATCH NO. 3 — THE TEXT THE TEXT EXCHANGE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING The one that lifted the veil for I AM SOULFIRE. What was so different about THAT text exchange that led IAS to go low contact with Biff? Next on I AM SOULFIRE: THE TEXT—IN A TWO-PART DISPATCH. Yes, it takes two. See you at the next Dispatch. Subscribe at iamsoulfire.substack.com and on YouTube for every new I AM SOULFIRE Dispatch. We burn the silence.We rewrite the story.We rise. 🔥 I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK — SEASON 1 SEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c&si=IdM--OFeBMNAo5tf) | YOUTUBESEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61dOONxOoxvcNxstWuoXaP) | SPOTIFY Songs in this Dispatch: 02 / LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD — Pat Benatar 03 / BONUS TRACK | WE’RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT — Twisted Sister I AM SOULFIRE is a stylized fictional dramedy inspired by lived experience. Names, places and identifying details have been changed. For entertainment purposes only. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

6. 

   18 Sept 2026

   She Doesn’t Shrink Anymore | Family Bullying, Sibling Abuse & Boundaries | I AM SOULFIRE D01

   🎭 ABOUT THE PERFORMANCEI AM SOULFIRE is performance storytelling. These videos are performed readings of the stories published on Substack. The spoken performances may vary from the written versions to accommodate delivery, timing, humor, and dramatic effect. Imagine, if you will, that it is amateur fireside storytelling night at your favorite little coffeehouse. The lights are low. You’re comfortable, something warm nearby, waiting for the next story to begin. Then, from somewhere over the speaker system, you hear... Testing... testing... Is this thing on? You look around. There’s no one at the microphone. Just a voice coming through the speakers. For the first time, I AM SOULFIRE is broadcasting publicly. So be kind. When the broadcast ends, imagine I AM SOULFIRE’s voice fading from the speakers. A beat of silence. Then the music comes on. Hit play: “Girl on Fire” — Alicia Keys This is the first piece she wrote for I AM SOULFIRE. This is where the fire started. 01 INTRO What started as something cathartic for my soul — a way for me to process what was happening in my own life — then took on an energy of its own. The writings became something bigger. I AM SOULFIRE began to take shape. And from there, a movement was born: The Re-Love-U-shun. The Prologue tells more. For now, just know there is a lot more coming. So get on the train. Subscribe. Stay close. This is where it all began. SOULFIRE DISPATCH NO. 1 SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE A SoulFire Dispatch 02 SHRINKING She used to shrink to survive. To make it through the holidays. To keep the peace. To stay small enough to be loved. She bent herself to fit. Tried to be who she thought they wanted around. So as not to cause problems. Hoping that peace would count as love. Yet she still felt unseen, unheard, undesired. Still too something. A stranger in her own family. It didn’t feel like love — and deep down she knew they didn’t even know her. For years she tolerated it — the jokes, the control, the subtle humiliations — because that’s what families do, right? After all, it’s all in fun, right? Smiling and nodding through discomfort. Choosing quiet and docile. She cried in private. 03 THE FRACTURE Then one day, she changed how she responded to being the joke. She didn’t get upset — she set a boundary that changed everything. A quiet fracture followed that resounded the truth: The only way to get them to stop hurting you is to stop showing up for them to abuse you. 04 THE PUNCHLINE When you have an undiagnosed, narcissist-trending brother who uses humor for his dopamine hits, you can spend years cast as the butt of the joke — the punchline, often sucker-punched before you even realize you were the target. I strongly believe your blood family should treat you better than anyone outside the family. But experience has shown me that, often, the opposite is true. And I find that deeply messed up. Shouldn’t family be the people who treat you the best, not the worst? When you finally realize this — you realize it’s better to be around people who aren’t your blood family but treat you like what you envision family should be. She realized she didn’t have to keep sitting at their tables. She could ghost her family and start healing and growing. 05 SHE DOESN’T SHRINK She doesn’t shrink anymore. Not for love. Not for family. Not for keeping the peace. They wanted her quiet. Passive. Agreeable. But she was born for truth. For force. For fire. To be loud. She’s not here to be liked. She’s here to be free. She stopped apologizing for her feelings. Her knowing. Her voice. Her emotions. Her body. Her tastes. Her opinions. Her bigness. Her boundaries. She stopped performing. She stopped explaining. She stopped caring what they think. She stopped making herself small... so others could feel tall. She doesn’t shrink anymore. She never has to again. And neither do you. 06 REFLECTIVE BURN You’ve just heard a SoulFire Dispatch. This is more than a story. It’s a spark. It’s a reckoning. It’s a return to voice. I AM SOULFIRE! The sound of people who stopped apologizing. The flame that rises from silence. The voice that was never supposed to survive — and did. Because when we stop shrinking to be what others want us to be, we finally become who we were meant to be — our true selves. And from that place of truth, we become better humans... the kind who can raise better humans. 07 SOUL CHECK-IN Does this resonate with you? Do you question how you feel about family — or how they feel about you? Are you tired of dreading the holidays and the end of the year because of family? Then stay close. Subscribe and join the SoulFire Family — because we’re here to burn down what breaks us and move forward as new humans with a clear mission. This movement is about truth. About learning to Re-Love yourself and shun anything that doesn’t serve your future self. We’re not here to escape life. We’re here to live it with intention. This is how the Re-Love-U-shun begins — with one woman deciding not to disappear, and all of us realizing we were never meant to. NEXT ON I AM SOULFIRE LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD When you stop shrinking, something interesting happens. People start reminding you of your role. “But it’s your brother.” “But it’s your mother.” “But they’re family.” As though sharing DNA means surrendering your boundaries. As though “family” is a lifetime permission slip for behavior you would never tolerate from anyone else. Next week on I AM SOULFIRE: Love Is a Battlefield. We’re going there. Subscribe at iamsoulfire.substack.com and on YouTube at @IAmSoulFireDispatch because this fire is just getting started. We burn the silence. We rewrite the story. We rise. 🔥 I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK — SEASON 1 SEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCHa6ECg8M4c&si=IdM--OFeBMNAo5tf) | YOUTUBESEASON 1 SOUNDTRACK | I AM SOULFIRE: SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61dOONxOoxvcNxstWuoXaP) | SPOTIFY Songs in this Dispatch:01 / GIRL ON FIRE — Alicia Keys This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

7. 

   18 Sept 2026

   I AM SOULFIRE Prologue: The Smoke Before the Fire

   WELCOME TO I AM SOULFIRE THE SMOKE BEFORE THE FIRE The Prologue, if we must call it something. I’ve also created video versions — if you like a little visual with your storytelling. After 55 years of life on the planet, in March 2025, I had a text exchange with my undiagnosed, narcissist-trending brother that changed my life as I knew it. For the first time, I didn’t swear, or cry, or call him names, or... any of the things I would normally do. It was an exchange where, for the first time, I saw through his words — and I responded differently. I was in the midst of a cross-country move, stressed, and had a lot on my mind. I woke up around midnight? Two? Three? I don’t remember. I just remember waking up and immediately grabbing my phone to reread the exchange. And that is when everything really changed for me. I could clearly read his messages for what they actually said. Not what I wanted them to say. Not what I hoped they said. Not what he pretended they said. For the first time in my whole life, the proverbial veil was lifted. I could not unsee how he uses language as a weapon. I realized certain things from this exchange that exposed the dynamics of our relationship: who he is, how he treats me, how we got here, and how larger family and societal roles had contributed to where I was when I kind of... fractured, as I call it. More to come about this. 02 ORIGIN I started writing and processing. And writing. And writing. And then I started writing stories. And out of it, I AM SOULFIRE was born. It started as a cathartic personal piece, and then it grew, as I grew, and I could see that it might help other people going through their own discovery. At the same time, the writing and processing led me to choose to go low contact with my brother — Biff, as you will come to know him — without telling him. After sharing a few stories that made me laugh, I was encouraged to publish them. And although I fully intended to... LIFE. I moved, had a couple of deaths in the family, and found a tiny puppy some loser had discarded. I set I AM SOULFIRE aside. Then I went back to it. Set it aside. Went back. Set it aside. 03 BIFF RETURNS And then... HE came back. Eighteen months later, with a text that drew me back in. Sorta. It turns out deciding to go low contact doesn’t mean you get to decide and it’s done. During that time, I responded to his texts but engaged as little as possible. I held my lines and mostly stayed quiet over here, trying not to bother anyone. Or so I thought, anyway. And then Biff came back again — this time with a new approach. Emotion. Sadness. Grief. He let me know how sad he was that I chose to “disassociate” from him. Then how sad he was that I chose to separate from him after 55 years. And that he had been angry because apparently being brother and sister for 55 years entitled him to an explanation. In September 2026, I continue to see his words unveiled. Notice what he didn’t say. He didn’t say he missed me. He didn’t say he saw something funny and thought about me. He didn’t say, It sucks that we can’t talk or laugh anymore. He didn’t say he was sad that we couldn’t find a better way to relate to each other. Sadness isn’t enough for me to reconcile because we are not sad in the same way. I am sad because of how my brother treats me. He is sad because he lost his supporting actress. I often hear that we can’t grow without being tested, and there is nothing like family to truly test your growth. And for me, there is no better test than Biff. Biff is the best tester you could ever want for a tester. Funny thing. True fact. I’ve known about narcissistic behavior and traits since the 90s, long before “narcissist” became a buzzword — or what now seems to be a societal epidemic — because of a very close acquaintance. But I never saw my brother this way. Until I did. And once you see something like this, this way, you — or at least I — cannot unsee it. I claim to hate labels. And yet, writing “my undiagnosed, semi-vulnerable narcoholic brother” makes me laugh. I still have work to do. 04 YOUTUBE After this latest round of word volleying, I went to the YouTube looking for videos about “laughing at your narcissist brother.” Because now it’s my turn to laugh. I didn’t find what I was looking for. However, I did find How Covert Narcissists Use HUMOR | It’s No Laughing Matter by Healing From Narcissists w/ Clarice (https://youtu.be/tL9M5AegmPU). And well... This describes my brother to a T. It also gave me confirmation that I am not making up how I feel treated by Biff. It sent me on a bit of a narcoholic binge. I laughed a lot, TBH. I searched more. Especially for narcissistic brothers. And there really wasn’t much — if anything — that felt like my situation. But the binge showed me something else. This specific relationship dynamic is confusing. It is damaging. And there aren’t nearly enough people talking about what this particular relationship can look and feel like from the inside. Maybe my voice can help someone who is searching for the same answers I was searching for. And that made me realize: It is time to publish my work. 05 MISSION I have been processing this relationship most of my life. But for the last year and a half, I have been looking at it from a very different POV than the previous 50-plus years. And after this last exchange, I saw even more about our dynamics — including how I had participated in them until I finally realized I didn’t have to. What this last exchange did was not draw me back into the dynamics. It exposed more layers. When I first started writing I AM SOULFIRE, I had only just realized what was going on and chose low contact to get through my move and life. Now, SoulFire has caught in me again — only this time, I’m coming back to it with low-contact lived experience I didn’t have when I first started writing. My resolve to get this work out into the world is stronger now. Because people who haven’t lived inside these kinds of sibling and family dynamics often just don’t get it. “Forgive him.” “Love him from a distance.” “Just don’t engage.” That sounds simple when you’re looking at it like a normal relationship with a difficult person. But ordinary relationship advice does not work the same when you are dealing with this kind of person. These very tactics are actually rage bait when you are dealing with this kind of person. So they don’t work the same. If this were a romantic relationship, a therapist who actually knows about NPD would likely tell you to cut and run once it is safe to leave. But this is my brother. Family. And somehow that title changes the advice. If your friends, coworkers, pastors — whoever loves you — looked only at the behavior and not the title of the relationship, I guarantee most sane people would tell you to get away from it. So first, you have to be willing to see the relationship for what it actually is yourself. Because if you do not fully comprehend what you are dealing with, WHO you are dealing with, you can spend your whole life trying to solve the wrong problem. I think seeing it clearly is where healing begins. Welcome to I AM SOULFIRE. 06 NARCOHOLIC While writing this prologue, a word came to me: narcoholic. I looked it up. Apparently I’m not the first person to use it — although not quite the way I mean it. More on that later. Because I can see now that engaging with Biff is engaging in narcoholic behavior. And I don’t do that anymore. I feel recovered. Engaging with Biff now feels a little like engaging with Peach Schnapps. 🤢 IYKYK. And here is another thing I have learned: Deciding to go low contact isn’t something I just did and then moved on with my life. I am still dealing with the nonsense. I’ve learned a ton since the fracture. And I am still learning and processing too. 07 CLOSING I am excited to share what I’ve written — with the hope that what I have learned can help someone else see their own situation with better clarity and a more accurate lens. Because gaslighting works best in the dark. Maybe I can help shed a little light with my fire. If abusive narcissistic sibling relationships weren’t a thing, you wouldn’t have found I AM SOULFIRE while searching for whatever it was that got you here. I am happy you are here. Because I am very much ready to empower others to swashbuckle their bullies too. I have written numerous stories containing what I consider humor and insight — stories I hope you’ll relate to, laugh at, maybe cry over, wake up from, and use to take control of your own narcoholic relationship. I’m going to start publishing them here, one by one. I have a lot to share. And, to quote Biff: “And if I am doing it to be funny, in my unique way, what is the harm in that?” I hope the people who need I AM SOULFIRE find me. Who are you? What brought you here? This is how things started for me. I AM SOULFIRE SOUNDTRACK: SEASON 1 00 — PROLOGUE: The Smoke Before the Fire “We Are Family” — Sister Sledge NEXT ON SOULFIRE DISPATCH NO. 1 - SHE DOESN’T SHRINK ANYMORE The first public story in a series about what happens when you stop playing the role they cast you in. Everyone liked her better when she was easier to control. Subscribe and heal with I AM SOULFIRE! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com (https://iamsoulfire.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1)

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