I’ve told you about the sad excuse for a father I was cursed with, but I haven’t said much about the sad excuse for a sister I was cursed with.
Growing up, I watched my friends around their older sisters, and they were all best friends. They hung out, they hugged, and they smiled when they saw each other. Mine did none of that. In fact, she did the exact opposite. She shut me out, yelled at me if I tried to hug her, and glared if I was even in the same room as she was. Everything I did was wrong. Everything. My existence, alone, irritated her.
About four or five years ago, she shows up at the house, no notice, and starts talking to mom. I had paused the movie mom and I were watching, but the blu-ray player was new, and I didn’t know that it shut itself off after 30 minutes. This, obviously, turned the TV back to live shows. When it did that, with zero help from me, she gave me a look, like I’d just done her a great injustice. Oh... I’m a horrible person for not knowing in advance that this would happen. I should be in jail!
Now, let’s go back seven or eight years...
Something had happened, yet again, with the (insert profanity of choice) at home. I had to get out. I wound up driving the solid forty-five minutes to where she was living in her in-law’s basement. One of their daughters let me inside, and I went downstairs. I knocked on the door, and she started yelling at me for not calling before coming. Up and down, yelling, because I was inconveniencing her. She was watching TV. Oh... the horror. I’m no better than Dahmer.
Since she and her husband moved out twelve or so years ago, not once has she called before coming here. Not. Once. But do it to her, and she blows a gasket. How do you say “hypocrite”?
Family, especially me, has never meant a single thing to her. On occasion, she’ll contact my mom. Usually when she needs something (food, money, or most commonly, a sympathetic ear to listen to her rants). Despite mom sending her a text every morning, her responses are few and far between.
It took me far too long to decide not to care about her or anything she does. Believe me when I say it was difficult. I’ve always been the good sister. Anything she wanted or needed, I was on top of. She exploited my generosity and devotion as much as she could.
**Example: I worked at Barnes & Noble for a while, and we had a Starbucks café. She’d call and ask me to get her coffee no less than once a week. I did, without complaint. The next Thanksgiving, she wanted to go get coffee, and I asked her if I could join her. She asks, “Do you have money?” Are you serious? You can’t afford $2 after I spent no less than $50 for you?**
Even still, every day, not caring is a conscious action. But I’ll tell you what... keeping her out of my life and thoughts has made my self esteem get to a somewhat normal level.
The way she bullied me my whole life will take the rest of my life to recover from. (Profanity) was my first bully, paving the way for her to follow suit, which then allowed me to make myself available for Britch and everyone else.
I’ve been able to work through a lot of the abuse that went on at school, but what happened at home will be a constant shadow out the side of my eye.
I have no dad, and I have no siblings. I have bullies. Sad, empty inside, bullies.
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