{"id":11653,"date":"2026-03-25T09:08:59","date_gmt":"2026-03-25T09:08:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653"},"modified":"2026-03-25T09:34:55","modified_gmt":"2026-03-25T09:34:55","slug":"get-out-of-my-house-youve-always-been-the-weakest-one-my-father-spat-right-before-he-raised-a-glass-and-turned-my-humiliation-into-a-party-my-mother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653","title":{"rendered":"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

My name is Emily Carter<\/strong>, and in my family, I was always the one they apologized for.<\/p>\n

My older sisters, Vanessa<\/strong> and Claire<\/strong>, had the kind of lives my parents loved to brag about. Vanessa sold luxury real estate in Scottsdale. Claire married a surgeon and posted polished family photos that looked like magazine ads. Me? I stayed in our hometown outside Columbus, took accounting classes at the community college, and spent four years helping my father keep the books for our family hardware store after his first heart scare.<\/p>\n

None of that mattered at our house.<\/p>\n

To my father, Richard Carter<\/strong>, I was the daughter who \u201cnever became anything.\u201d To my mother, Linda<\/strong>, I was too quiet, too sensitive, too willing to stay behind and do the work no one noticed. They liked to call it weakness. What they really meant was that I wasn\u2019t impressive enough to show off.<\/p>\n

The night everything broke, my parents hosted a backyard party to celebrate my father\u2019s sixty-first birthday and what he called the \u201cnext chapter\u201d of the store. Friends, cousins, neighbors, church people\u2014everyone was there. Twinkle lights hung over the patio. Steaks sizzled on the grill. My father stood at the center of it all like a king.<\/p>\n

Then he tapped his glass and announced he was handing control of Carter Hardware to Vanessa and Claire.<\/p>\n

I froze.<\/p>\n

I had done the payroll, vendor payments, inventory reports, tax filings, and insurance renewals for years. Vanessa didn\u2019t know the difference between gross profit and net income. Claire once asked if quarterly taxes were \u201coptional if sales were slow.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pulled my father aside and whispered, \u201cDad, they can\u2019t run the store. At least not without a transition.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned red instantly. \u201cThere you go again. Always trying to make yourself important.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m trying to stop you from making a mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was when my mother stepped in, hard and sharp, and slapped me across the face.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t ruin this night,\u201d she hissed.<\/p>\n

My father raised his bourbon, looked straight at me, and said loudly enough for half the yard to hear, \u201cGet out of my house. You\u2019ve always been the weakest one, and I\u2019m done carrying dead weight.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

Some people looked away. Some pretended not to hear. My sisters stood there in silence while my father laughed and turned my humiliation into entertainment.<\/p>\n

I left with one duffel bag, my laptop, and my cheek still burning.<\/p>\n

Two weeks later, at 6:40 on a rainy Tuesday morning, I opened the door to my apartment\u2014and saw my father standing there, pale, shaking, and suddenly looking much older than sixty-one.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmily,\u201d he whispered, voice cracking, \u201cplease\u2026 you have to help us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Part 2<\/h2>\n

For a second, I just stared at him.<\/p>\n

Two weeks earlier, Richard Carter had thrown me out in front of forty people like I was trash. Now he stood in the hallway outside my one-bedroom apartment, soaked from the rain, clutching a folder so tightly the edges had bent.<\/p>\n

I should have slammed the door.<\/p>\n

Instead, I said, \u201cYou have five minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stepped inside like he didn\u2019t deserve to. That alone told me something was very wrong.<\/p>\n

My father sat at my tiny kitchen table and pushed the folder toward me. Inside were past-due notices, bank emails, a payroll service warning, and a letter from the state department of taxation. I only needed thirty seconds to see the damage.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Vanessa and Claire had taken over the store and started spending like the business was their personal reward. Vanessa ordered a full showroom remodel we couldn\u2019t afford. Claire hired her friend\u2019s marketing company on a six-month contract without reading the terms. They delayed vendor payments to \u201cfree up cash,\u201d ignored payroll tax deadlines, and transferred money from the operating account to cover personal expenses they called \u201cowner reimbursements.\u201d<\/p>\n

They had also failed to renew our liability insurance on time.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me this isn\u2019t all of it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

My father rubbed his face. \u201cThe bank froze our line of credit yesterday. One of the suppliers is threatening legal action. And we bounced payroll.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up at him. \u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed. \u201cEnough that if we don\u2019t fix it this week, we lose the store.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room went very still.<\/p>\n

That store was more than a business. It was the only real asset my parents had. It paid their mortgage, covered my father\u2019s prescriptions, and had been in our family for thirty-two years. Lose the store, and they wouldn\u2019t just lose face. They\u2019d lose everything.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy come to me?\u201d I asked, even though I already knew.<\/p>\n

His eyes filled, but I couldn\u2019t tell whether it was regret or fear. \u201cBecause you\u2019re the only one who understands any of this.\u201d<\/p>\n

There it was. No apology. Just the truth finally cornering him.<\/p>\n

I leaned back in my chair. \u201cBefore I do anything, I want something clear. I am not coming back as the daughter you insult when it\u2019s convenient and use when you\u2019re desperate.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded fast. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Listen to me.\u201d My voice came out steadier than I felt. \u201cIf I help, I take full control of the books immediately. No one touches the accounts without my approval. Vanessa and Claire do not make another financial decision. And I get paid.\u201d<\/p>\n

He blinked. \u201cPaid?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Because apparently my work has value now.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time in my life, my father looked ashamed.<\/p>\n

He nodded again, slower this time. \u201cYou\u2019ll be paid.\u201d<\/p>\n

I should say I agreed because I had a soft heart. That\u2019s only partly true. The other reason was colder: I wanted every person in that family to look directly at what they had done and understand exactly who had been holding their world together.<\/p>\n

So I opened my laptop, logged into the store accounts, and after ten brutal minutes of digging, I found the one thing that made my stomach drop.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad,\u201d I said quietly, \u201cthis is worse than you think.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Part 3<\/h2>\n

The unpaid taxes and bounced payroll were bad. The real disaster was buried deeper.<\/p>\n

Three days before throwing me out, my father had signed documents making Vanessa and Claire co-owners of the business. Neither of them had read the paperwork, and apparently neither had he. The transfer triggered loan covenant violations with the bank because ownership changed without formal approval. On top of that, Claire\u2019s husband had used the business financials to help qualify for a separate investment deal, which exposed the store to extra scrutiny once payments started failing.<\/p>\n

In plain English: the business wasn\u2019t just messy. It was now legally vulnerable from three directions at once.<\/p>\n

I drove to the store that afternoon. Vanessa was crying in the office. Claire was pacing and saying things like, \u201cWe just needed time,\u201d as if time fixed math. My mother stood in the doorway with her arms folded, still carrying that same hard look that used to make me feel twelve years old.<\/p>\n

I dropped a stack of printouts on the desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s where you are,\u201d I said. \u201cYou have six days before payroll problems become a full employee walkout, less than two weeks before the tax penalties escalate, and if the bank calls the loan, the store is done.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother finally spoke. \u201cSo fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned to her. \u201cThat\u2019s not how this works.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

Then I laid out the only path forward: cancel the remodel contract, liquidate excess inventory, negotiate a payment plan with the tax office, call every major supplier personally, and sign an emergency restructuring agreement with me as temporary operations manager. Vanessa and Claire would also repay every improper withdrawal they\u2019d taken, even if it meant selling jewelry, dipping into savings, and telling their husbands the truth.<\/p>\n

Vanessa looked horrified. Claire looked offended. My father looked broken.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose are the terms,\u201d I said. \u201cTake them or close the doors.\u201d<\/p>\n

For once, no one argued.<\/p>\n

The next ten days were brutal. I worked sixteen-hour stretches. I negotiated with vendors, convinced the payroll company not to terminate service, and met with the bank manager, who thankfully remembered me from years of clean reporting. That history bought us exactly one chance. By the end of the second week, we weren\u2019t safe\u2014but we were no longer dying.<\/p>\n

Then came the part that mattered more than the numbers.<\/p>\n

My father stood in the store before opening one morning, hands trembling, and said, \u201cI was wrong about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the first honest sentence I had ever heard from him.<\/p>\n

My mother never gave me the apology I deserved, but she stopped speaking to me like I was small. My sisters kept their distance after paying back what they owed. And me? I didn\u2019t move back home. I didn\u2019t hand the business back and disappear into the background again.<\/p>\n

I signed a proper contract, took a salary, and six months later, I bought a minority ownership stake in the store with terms written by my own attorney.<\/p>\n

The man who once threw me out now asks before making financial decisions.<\/p>\n

Funny how weakness looks different when the lights are about to shut off.<\/p>\n

And if you\u2019ve ever been underestimated by your own family, you already know this truth: sometimes the person they call \u201cthe weakest\u201d is the one holding everything together. If this story hit close to home, tell me what you would have done at that door\u2014walk away, or make them face exactly who they needed all along?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My name is Emily Carter, and in my family, I was always the one they apologized for. My older sisters, Vanessa and Claire, had the kind of lives my parents loved to brag about. Vanessa sold luxury real estate in Scottsdale. Claire married a surgeon and posted polished family photos that looked like magazine ads. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":11676,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11653","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-life-new"],"yoast_head":"\n\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"My name is Emily Carter, and in my family, I was always the one they apologized for. My older sisters, Vanessa and Claire, had the kind of lives my parents loved to brag about. Vanessa sold luxury real estate in Scottsdale. Claire married a surgeon and posted polished family photos that looked like magazine ads. […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"True Stories\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-03-25T09:08:59+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2026-03-25T09:34:55+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"558\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"true love\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"true love\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"8 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653\",\"name\":\"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-03-25T09:08:59+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2026-03-25T09:34:55+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg\",\"width\":558,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"True Stories\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e\",\"name\":\"true love\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"true love\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=2\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories","og_description":"My name is Emily Carter, and in my family, I was always the one they apologized for. My older sisters, Vanessa and Claire, had the kind of lives my parents loved to brag about. Vanessa sold luxury real estate in Scottsdale. Claire married a surgeon and posted polished family photos that looked like magazine ads. […]","og_url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653","og_site_name":"True Stories","article_published_time":"2026-03-25T09:08:59+00:00","article_modified_time":"2026-03-25T09:34:55+00:00","og_image":[{"width":558,"height":1000,"url":"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"true love","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"true love","Est. reading time":"8 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653","name":"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d - True Stories","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg","datePublished":"2026-03-25T09:08:59+00:00","dateModified":"2026-03-25T09:34:55+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/A_cinematic_ultra-realistic_202603251607.jpg","width":558,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=11653#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"\u201c\u2018Get out of my house\u2014you\u2019ve always been the weakest one,\u2019 my father spat, right before he raised a glass and turned my humiliation into a party. My mother\u2019s slap still burned on my cheek as my sisters watched in silence. That night, they celebrated my downfall. Two weeks later, the same man stood at my door, pale and shaking, whispering, \u2018Please\u2026 you have to help us.\u2019 And that was when everything changed.\u201d"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"True Stories","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e","name":"true love","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"true love"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=2"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11653","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11653"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11653\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11679,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11653\/revisions\/11679"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/11676"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11653"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11653"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11653"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}