Today marked the day of an upteenth family therapy session, centered around my youngest sister who has been going through a lot from her early teenage days.
I used to go to these sessions along with my sister (a little younger than me, the one driving because only her ever got her driving license), my mother, and of course my youngest sister.
But today, I took the bus.
I’ve been avoiding my mother for a couple of months and just the thought of her makes me sad and oh so angry.
I didn’t want to see my sister because she had the gall to try and lecture me about my “attitude” on this matter when she showed up at my door with our mother in tow, to get me to hang out two days ago. I had declined the offer flatly. Of course my annoyance at the whole ordeal was out in the open, because I just couldn’t summon the energy to fake any sort of enthusiasm, and that was the trigger.
When my sister started to raise her tone, I just cut the one-sided conversation short and slammed the door in her face. Then I heard her through the door saying “You’ll regret this your whole life you know!”
After they left, I did ponder this. Would I, really? I felt sad. A couple of hours I felt much more calmer: I wouldn’t. I remembered how I felt when our family finally moved out of that hellhole of a rural town for a bigger city far away where everything and everyone who hurt me wouldn’t be able to reach me again: excitement, joy, sadness (because I do have some fond memories there after all), immense relief. A new start. New beginnings.
I remembered my dad’s funeral: how I cried and sobbed my heart out even though he was a violent alcoholic loser whom I will resent and hate for the rest of my life. He was my step-dad, but also the only dad I’ve ever known, who tried to raise us as if we (me and my sister) were his own. I still blame him for my terrible childhood, he’s one of those who ruined my life, and the relief and sense of peacefulness I felt when we went home from the funeral was sweet. A new start. New beginnings.
And now for the very first time in my life, thanks to my sister’s words, I tried to picture a life when I wouldn’t have to deal with my family’s bullcrap anymore. A life when I could worry about myself only for once, perhaps faaaar away from here even. And I liked it. I like it very much! How did I never thought of this before?! Why did I have to hold onto the concept of “family” when none of them have been truly there when I needed them. When I have been making so many compromises, tried so hard, made so many efforts that have never and will never be aknowledged.
I couldn’t convey all of this to them at the family therapy session. I was a sobbing mess the moment I was asked in what way I wished to receive affection (as we were discussing how affection was shown in our family). That question broke me.
I ended up blurting through tears how I was fed up with them all, how I wished they’d leave me alone once for all. How I had just given up on wishing anything from them, how I wish I had done just that a long time ago so maybe my life would have turned so much better instead of holding on to the idea of “family” like an idiot. I told my sister that, “no, I wouldn’t regret it.”
What was their response?
My sister said right into my face that “Yes you will-” and I exploded. Why did she have to tell me how “I” feel like she knew better? Why did she have to do this every single time I’m dumb enough to confide in her? I pointed out how she really hasn’t changed since childhood, always gaslighting me. Making me doubt my memories, my feelings, my sanity! Make me feel like I’m crazy and how it’s all in my head.
And she CRIED.
She says she was a child then and how much longer must I punish her when she wasn’t that person anymore. As if she wasn’t “that person” way into our late teenage years, at one of the most critical time of our lives no less. As if I ever “punished” her for anything! As soon as we started adulthood until this very day I only mentioned this once to tell her I forgave her and moved on because I actually wanted to improve our relationship as sisters. As if her marrying, building a family of her own and getting into religion mellowed her into a much more mature person, was enough to erase those bad habits of hers completely.
She says she had done SO MUCH for me. I asked her what did she ever do for me, who never asked her for anything?! She yelled it over and over but couldn’t give me an answer.
She says she always always always had to walk on eggs with me, because everyone here knows how I take everything to heart, and badly, because I’m extremely sensitive. To the point where “everyone” is afraid to slip up before me for fear I would react badly.
What.the.hell?! As if I ever screamed at any of them before! I wasn’t even the type of child who threw tantrums or made a fuss! I was (and still am) the kind of quiet person that keeps to herself. I wouldn’t even DREAM to raise my voice! Why? Because the few times it actually happened, backfired in my face splendidly. Because for as long as I remember, I was always alone, misunderstood, neglected and mocked. Nobody ever cared about me or what I think.
Of course I am sensitive! Life made me so. But to the point my own family would “fear” ME??
What is this madness?!
She says that since I was always keeping myself apart of the family, she had to step up and be the big sister in MY stead. How she never had a big sister and the actual times I was, she still cherishes the memory.
Boy how I remember this differently! As far as I can remember, she TOOK that role from me right from the start: she sought our mom’s attention and approval above all else as a kid because she was jealous I had special attention from our late grandmother and was afraid our mother would treat her the same. I never had a chance to be a big sister. She was always so much more independant and eager than me, the quiet one who didn’t know what to make of her hands. And she kept being the big sister for all of our sisters ever since. Hell, she’s the first (and only) one our mother calls anytime she has any trouble. She’s the one our sisters confide in. As for the memories of me being a big sister to her? I can’t recall one, because I can’t recall anytime she ever heed my advice anyway. Heck, she only started to refer me as her big sister in public around the time she got married.
I can’t believe she doesn’t even consider the idea that she could have been a part of why I “hide myself from the family”.
She says “why must I hate her still”. I don’t. I wouldn’t hurt this much if I did. I wouldn’t have tried so much if I did. I wouldn’t have bothered with her at all if I did! How can she not see that?!
My sister really doesn’t understand me at all. She never has. Never will. Each and every one of them, they don’t understand me.
My mother shed a few tears and said how she was dumbfounded by this “heavy thing falling all over our heads”, suggested I should get therapy and treatment. Said not a word to my sister except how sorry she was to see her in such pain.
The pieces of my heart shattered in even smaller pieces. I know better than to expect the faintest hint of understanding from my mother and yet, I got hurt again.
As for my youngest sister? She simply… comforted our sister. Offered me water at some point, which I declined.
Left out, once again. Of course.
The next therapy sessions were scheduled and I will be going because I had said from the start I would see it to the end, for my younger sister’s sake.
But I did take the bus back home again.
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