About 3 months ago, I’ve started accomodating my youngest sister, who just turned 19.
The sister who’s a tiny bit younger than me is married, has a job, and three daughters under 7.
The middle sister, in her mid-twenties, is kind of a nomad hopping from place to place across the country with her dog and working seasonal jobs. She can leave from 6 months to a whole year and I hardly ever hear about her because we’ve drifted apart a long time ago.
Our mother cannot take care of our youngest anymore because they just kept clashing together until it blew up: back then, my youngest sister skipped school all the time, did drugs (still does), and just did whatever she wanted as if home was some sort of hotel. No amount of pleading, threatening, compromising, promises or anything else from our mother would get through her. More often than not she’d pretend to listen then do the exact opposite.
Trust me, even us sisters did try to understand, to get her to confide in us. With little to no results. She was THIS far gone.
In the end, our mother couldn’t take it anymore and I don’t blame her. She did try everything.
After the blow-up, our youngest had been taken care of by a place that gave her treatment, counselors, medical monitoring and a little flat as a temporary solution.
6-8 months later, my youngest sister just spent her time blowing any money she was given on trips, tabacco, concerts, festivals, and other illicit stuff while still skipping school. However, she DID admit how miserable she felt, how she resented our mother for “kicking her out” and “abandoning” her. How she knew she had issues and just didn’t see how to go up from the deep abyss she sank in.
Funny she didn’t aknowledge everything we did for her: our mother would give in and give her money when she ran out all the time, for tabacco and most anything else. How she would let her in even unnanounced for tea/dinner, use the kitchen/shower or even spend the night despite the obvious tension.
How our sister would drive for hours to get her whenever she got stranded in the middle of nowhere after a party/festival/concert in the middle of the night despite having a family of her own to worry about. How said sister had accomodated her first for several weeks while she was waiting for her allocated flat to be ready.
How I would readily help her for homework and assignments, spend time discussing her options, encouraging her to try whatever she wanted as long as she just TRIED anything. Making plans, taking her to fun places to hang out (Gardens, gallery, Café, Tacos, Sushi, even an Animation School once) and playing video games together to cheer her up. One time I even taught her to make a shopping list and paid for near 100 bucks worth of groceries since all she had in her fridge was a bottle of vodka and some pasta, because the bulk of her money always went to everything else but food.
We had started that family therapy thing for her sake. We all wanted to show her that we care. It was hard on me too, as I ended up sheding tears almost every time, but I went along with it because I wanted to help her. I never want her to end up like… well, me. Or worse.
Fast forward to nowadays: Since I live alone, don’t have any beef with her, and available, I was naturally the one she had to turn to when she had to vacate the flat 3 months ago. Of course, I welcomed her with open arms: she’s my darling youngest sister and I’ll be damned if I see her on the streets. But I’m afraid that doesn’t mean I am happy with this arrangement.
You see, I am a severely chronicaly depressed person. Have been for more than a decade. And as such, sharing my personal space isn’t something I like very much. I don’t like the idea of having a pair of eyes watching me, I don’t like having my routine and habits disturbed, scrutined or criticized. I don’t like not feeling free.
My flat reflects my mind: a complete mess. Not quite the ideal environnment for a young woman to work on herself, right? Her things are all over the place and I admit I hate it. It feels like even if I do muster the courage up to clean up mine, hers would stay in the way, rendering all that effort useless.
But there’s more: from the day she moved in, she just comes and goes whenever she pleases. Just like she used to do at our mother’s. Sometimes I don’t see or hear from her for days. I think, on average, she spends the week every fortnight.
I don’t think I ever saw her take up a took even once, and yet, she actually decided to try and take her A-levels exams. I supported her of course, I even took her to her first exam. I’m actually happy she’s going to see it to the end. I’m worried, but I try not to dwell on this too much and hope for the best.
I only gave her two rules: 1, call me in advance to let me know whenever she wants to come home, so I can manage my time (in case I actually need to go out or whatever reason) and don’t have to wait up until late, staring stupidly at the clock. 2, If the clock ever goes past 2 am and she’s not home, I regard this as her spending the night elsewhere and won’t open the door for anything.
That’s it. Overall, she’s completely free. She manages her own time and schedule, she decides when she wants to wake up, go to her appointments or not, when she wants to eat she can help herself to anything in the kitchen etc. I even allowed her to move her desk from our mother’s place into mine so she’d have her own space to study as she likes when there’s barely any room here.
She struggled with the first rule for a long while though. Until I got really upset and argued with her about it, only then did she start to make a little effort. But I’d already given up and told her that she doesn’t have to bother with that rule if she doesn’t mind taking the risk of not finding me home to open the door for her sometimes. And she was okay with that.
Other than that, she lives here rent free. She doesn’t have a job and haven’t looked for one yet. So yeah, my bills almost doubled and I’m struggling to get food on the table with the State Aids I get for 1 person (aka, myself) every month. She did give me 10 bucks once, brought around 50 bucks worth of groceries, and cleaned up the place a bit which I’m grateful for but that doesn’t quite help, does it. And I’ve just learned she is 700 bucks into debt.
I tried to talk to her about her future arrangements lately, as tactfully as I could, but it doesn’t seem like she will look actively for it anytime soon: she vaguely talked about how she’s been discussing this matter with a counselor from another insitution recently and how finding her own place will probably take a long time (something I heard once or twice before).
She smiled as she talked about the fun things she wanted to this summer with her friends.
And then she told me this: “Wether it’s mom’s, sister’s or your place, I’m still home right?”
… I couldn’t find it in myself to contradict her.
I felt that if I did, I would destroy something fragile and precious when she finally seemed to walk the path of better days.
But what about me?! Am I really going to live like this for another 6 months? Another year?? I can’t. I CAN’T. I’ll go crazy. She’s so fragile she can’t even stand having someone raising her tone at her without starting a panic attack. Her bouts of anxiety are no joke!
And I am in a period of my life when I can’t bottle up anything anymore. This isn’t going to work. I need to find a solution before I blow up too.
She’s been hospitalised for 6 days now, by her own initiative.
She doesn’t take daytime treatment so she’s happier than the last time. She says she gets to focus on her studies more freely. Good for her.
I don’t know how long they’ll keep her there. Maybe two weeks. Four, at most.
I’m so tired. I want to be alone.
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