January 4th, 2020

not a crotch

What I'd Like My Sisters To Understand

What I'd Like My Sisters To Understand

What somebody does to us when we are young, it wasn't our fault.

When we protect ourselves from harm when we are young, the harm, and the way we protect ourselves, are not our fault.

When other people get hurt in the fallout, that's not our fault.

People try and fail and fail horribly. When they realize and admit their errors and they repent they can be forgiven. When they know full well the error of their ways but refuse to admit wrongdoing they do more harm, doubly so when they deflect the blame or claim innocence, and worst of all, when they blame those that they've attacked.

When those that have been witness to the harm, and to the reactions to the harm, to the sobbing and the screaming and the rebellions and the running away and the madness, when those people that might have been allies try to blame the target for what happened to all of us when we were young, that is also causing more harm. To us all.

Does the blame lie on the shoulders of our mad, twisted, evil, angry, satanic, insane, narcissistic main parental figure? I'm not sure. I don't think so. At least no entirely. But the blame does not lie, not even one tiny minuscule little bit, on the vulnerable, growing, terrified, trusting, cornered, betrayed, beaten and abused child. No way. No how.

And should the grown up child be blamed for not being able to grow up and get over it and just deal with it and instead wanting no more exposure to the still toxic and venomous she parent that still has the power to cut and burn and batter?

According to my sisters, yes, I should risk deep harm for their sake. To make their lives easier. To share the burden of taking care of our aging mother. I should be the bigger person and be strong and grow up and get a thicker skin and not let her bother me and all that jazz so that they can take care of her less than they're taking care of her already.

They were taken care of by her when they were children. They weren't the constant target of her anger, I was. I was kicked out at 18 and left to fend for myself with a high school diploma and my own untreated raging mental illness that was aggravated to wild heights by our mother's own untreated raging mental illness. They were given an all expenses paid roof over their heads until they graduated from an expensive university and were ready to confidentiality go out into the world and get good steady jobs and buy property and marry or not marry as they choose. I missed out on all that and I've been rebounding and ricocheting all over my life ever since to this day in my 54th year of living. I have yet to calm down and get over being intensely abused on a daily basis for 18 years and then having those wounds reopened periodically and acid poured into them if I didn't get away quick enough. I can not just deal with her. And they can. And they think I should too. Because, well, I don't know why they'd think that. Wishful thinking?

Either way, fuck that noise. Fuck it hard, fuck it sharp, and fuck it deep. I. Am. Done. I allowed her to be in my life and breathe my air at holidays because of our father. Now that he is gone she's worse, and I am not having it. I had my own pain to nurse when he died and being anywhere near her only made it harder.

My sisters can take care of her till she dies. They might feel like they owe her a debt. I feel like she owes me and owes me large and owes me in a way that she'll never be able to repay, not in a million years. My sisters had years of support from her when they were young and needed it, they can give her years of support when she is old and needs it. I didn't get in on that deal.

I don't feel like I owe my sisters anything either. Where were they when I was living on my own and they were still at home? Was there any outreach? Any attempt on their part to call me? To check on me? To, god forbid, support me, at least emotionally, as sisters? There was nothing. They were out of my life too. My entire family, the good and the bad, gone, at 18. For almost two years. Granted, I didn't call them either. I didn't call any of them. Not then. But I have tried over the years to get close with my sisters. Tried many a time. And have they EVER tried with me? Been the initiators? Shown that they cared unless I had to ask them to show it, like when I lived with Donna for 9 months when I was jobless and homeless, when our father died? Nope. And why not? I don't know, I've never gotten an answer, except hints that they were scared of me when we were kids and I assume maybe they still are and I don't know what they think I'm going to do to them now - I don't know what. I want to know. I've asked. It's like pulling fucking teeth to get an answer from either of them if I can even get them to talk about it. They are frustrating as fuck.