Steven LaChance Blog

Family secrets have a strange way of shaping our lives, even when we do not know they exist. They live in the background, quietly influencing relationships, behavior, and how we see ourselves.

I learned this firsthand when I found out, well into my fifties, that my two older brothers were actually my half-brothers.

We shared the same mother, but not the same father.

It was mind-blowing. Not just the fact itself, but how long it had been hidden. Decades of silence. Decades of pretending. You’d think the shocking part would be discovering we had different fathers, but honestly, it wasn’t. It was the golden silence surrounding it. The deliberate secrecy. The lie that quietly shaped everything.

Seeing the Cracks

When I first found out, I remember thinking, this doesn’t change anything within me. And in many ways, it didn’t. I didn’t suddenly feel like a different person. My memories didn’t vanish. My love for my family didn’t disappear.

But once the curtain was pulled back and the truth stood there fully exposed, something else happened. I began to see the cracks. The things that never made sense suddenly did.

I spent most of my life feeling like my brothers looked down on me. There was always a distance, a dynamic I couldn’t quite explain. I blamed myself more than I’d like to admit. I tried to earn their approval, to fix something I didn’t understand.

But when the truth came out, I finally saw it clearly. Their treatment of me wasn’t really about me at all.

It was about resentment. About pain. About the fact that I existed as a living reminder of something they didn’t choose and couldn’t control. I was the target of their anger, but not its cause. I was the whipping board for their wounds.

Protection and Silence

My sister, before she passed, used to tell me I should move far away. Live my life on my own terms. There was always this quiet urgency in her voice, like she was holding something back.

Now I know she was. She kept this secret from me, not to manipulate, but to protect. She had seen what the truth had done to her, how it was used against her by the oldest brother when it came out. She didn’t want me to go through the same thing.

That kind of protection is its own kind of love. Complicated, but real.

I Won’t Stay Silent Anymore

And now that the truth is out, there are still factions in my life who would rather I stay quiet. They’d prefer I act like it never happened. They see the truth as a threat. Something shameful. Something that should have stayed buried.

But I can’t do that. I won’t.

Living as a gay man has taught me the power of living authentically. It means not editing who you are. It means speaking your truth, even when others are uncomfortable. I lived with the poison of hiding for too long, first with my identity, now with this family truth. And I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.

Truth Is Not the Problem

The truth is not the problem. The silence was.

I may never have a relationship with my brothers again, and I have made peace with that. Because if the only way to stay connected is to stay silent, then it is not a relationship at all. It is a performance. And I have spent enough of my life performing for the sake of keeping others comfortable. I am done with that.

They treat the truth like it is the source of all their pain. But the truth is where the healing begins.

I forgive them for many things. But I cannot forgive the attitude of let’s not talk about it.

Because not talking about it is what opened the door to decades of confusion, shame, and emotional damage. That silence cost me too much.

So here is where I draw the line: we deal with life openly, honestly, and completely—or not at all.

The Psychology of Family Secrets

From a psychological standpoint, this makes perfect sense.

According to family systems theory, secrets disrupt the natural flow of communication and identity in families. They often create scapegoats—someone to carry the weight of the tension while others avoid dealing with the truth.

Secrets do not just cause confusion. They fracture trust, warp roles, and keep entire generations stuck in cycles of shame.

Breaking that silence is painful. But it is necessary.

Rebuilding After the Truth

The truth didn’t break me. It broke the illusion. And from there, I started to rebuild. I stopped carrying the blame. I stopped trying to fix relationships that were never mine to fix. I stopped needing to be understood by people who never truly wanted to understand me.

Truth is powerful. It does not always set you free in a dramatic or cinematic way. Sometimes it just quietly lifts the weight you never knew you were carrying.

I am still healing. That part does not happen overnight. But I am healing with clarity now, not confusion. With peace, not guilt. I have learned that the past can shape us, but it does not have to define us.

And sometimes the most radical act of healing is simply allowing yourself to stop chasing approval and start choosing yourself.

If you have had the curtain pulled back in your own life, if you have discovered truths that shook your foundation, know this:

You are not alone. And you are not broken.

Sometimes the truth hurts. But it also explains. And once you understand where the pain came from, you can finally begin to let it go.