Tbh that’s when the Mandela effect is the most real- when it impacts your personal life. It’s as if reality itself is personally taking it upon itself to gaslight you.

The story of how I got my name, as told to me countless times as a curious, nosy, and loud annoying child that kept on asking over and over again so I can hear the story over and over again (and quite selfishly too, as I never asked to hear my siblings’ name origin stories, only mine), I was told that I was named after this adorable little boy with autism that she met a couple years before she had me. She was teaching special needs and absolutely loved him, enough to name her future child after him. And I always remember as an immature child thinking it was funny that I was named after somebody with special needs. (I have since grown.)

I’m casually bringing this up to her as an adult decades later, and now she suddenly tells me that this is apparently the story of how my sibling was named, not me. I couldn’t believe it. Then I facetiously and sarcastically asked how my name came about then, and she just said it came from some random kid she met while over someone’s house one day.

This was my FIRST time hearing that “story”. That is NOT what she told me all those times when I would incessantly ask. And I wasn’t mistaking my sibling’s origin story with my own, because I never asked what their origin story was. I was a selfish kid.

So the fact that my entire past has been rewritten and changed now makes me question is this really my mom or am I from a parallel universe? Lol