Monday, July 2, 2012

My Sister's Narcoma

My sister recently tweeted:
I will always be disappointed because I aim for perfection.

Need to thank my wife for cyber-sleuthing that for me.

What’s super interesting about this is that I wrote a post along these same lines back in April of this year.  Basically, I was describing how I decided not to strive for anything better than what is.  I learned not to want more from myself, not to expect more of myself.  The drive to do better burned up the in fires of indifference.

Now – how did both my sister and I come up with the nearly the same life motto?  Well, I need look no further than the one person we have in common our bitch witch mother.  Yep, good ole “ma” found it deep within herself to instill both her children with a severely defeatist attitude about life and a penchant for invoking pity-partied attention from the surround peons.

Don’t try too hard at life, she says, it’ll just run you down.  Instead listen to your mother, since I know how to control you slave, I – I mean since I only want what’s best for you.
Cue, devious/faux “I love you!” smile.

Admittedly, I wanted to save my sister at first.  After all, she was an innocent victim just like I was, I thought.  She was 15/16 then.  Three and half years later, it’s about time she take responsibility for her actions.  She won’t since she’s worse off than I am – the mother/daughter gender bond I believe is significantly stronger than the mother/son bond.  I was exceptionally sad when I realized that my sister wouldn’t likely come out of her Narcoma.

Indeed, I wanted her to wake up and realize what a pawn she’s been all her life.  I wanted someone to commiserate with in my journey, to share together our difficulties in really becoming ourselves.

Instead, she’s sided with my mother because she can’t possibly know any different now.  Her brainwashing is nearly complete, or it possibly is complete.  I was born with a flicker of something that allowed me to see on some level, what terrible things my mother did.  I’m not sure if she was fortunate enough to have this flicker of hope.  As my wife has said – it would be nothing short of a miracle were she to come out of her maternally induced Narcoma.

While she’s still my sister by blood, she’s become part of the problem.  She’s swimming in the toxic waters my mother has prepared for her.  I’m tired of participating.  Maybe my sister will too.  Maybe not.

I remember when my aunt told me I had a new baby sister.  I was sleeping her house, on the floor of their room (I was nine at the time).  At 10:35pm, my aunt woke me up to tell me the news.  I remember being genuinely excited at this news.  I also remember the carpet being a light brown.  And that’s it. 

I have sporadic memories of my sister as a baby, a toddler, beginning to talk and interact with me.  At one time, I remember her asking “why” A-L-O-T and remember being very annoyed by this.  I was 11 or 12 at the time and was wholly focused on myself.  I didn’t like that I had this small person following me around all the time.  I feel bad now thinking about it, that I didn’t treat her better, in my opinion.  I shoo-ed her away a lot too.  The age gap between us was 9 years, and what could a 3 year old and a 12 year old really have in common at that time?

As we both got older, I started to like her more maybe because she began having her own set of friends, she could express herself clearer, and wanted less to be involved in every second of my life.   Even when she was in her mid-teens and I in my early twenties, we never really communicated.  I never really felt close to her – all we had was superficiality.  So then, when I distanced myself from our mother, I wondered where she got off saying that she and I used to be so close (that sentiment came from some of the family “friends” we had too).

I composed a second letter to her addressing this and other issues, but it is a useless endeavor.  It was more of a letter of things I should have said when I had the chance.  Perhaps I will post it here, perhaps not.

The hope is gone now, replaced with sadness and disappointment that she cannot be a part of Operation: Growing Up And Really Seeing Our Mother For What She Is.  She’s off to college now, putting at least some distance between she and my mother.  I doubt that will amount to anything but severely poor decisions on my sister’s part.

3 comments:

  1. This grieving stuff is......beyond description, beyond words.
    TW

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  2. I don't really have anything of signifigance to say about this, except that I've been where you are at. Watching my little sister dissolve into my mother's abyss has been difficult, to say the least. I struggle between feeling the need to rescue her (partly because this is a role my mother has always assigned to me), feeling sorry for her as she has been victimized as I have, grieving the relationship I wished we had (I also had felt we were "close", but that was a sham dependent on me meeting her needs), and having absolutely no trust and faith in her at all. Everything about our relationship has been created for us by my mother. We've had very few real exchanges and experiences, and most of those have been tainted by the "reality" mom created around us. And now, we struggle to really communicate. She comes in and out of her "narcoma" but rarely stays lucid for long. And even when she does come out of the place mom has kept her in, the years of conditioning her to be some fantasy that my mom "lives" through has damaged her in a way that I don't believe she can overcome. She sees what our mom has done, but is so warped herself that she knows not what to do about it.
    As a side note, my mother also never had us expect too much. I can remember vividly being put into dance classes and swimming classes with children much younger (and less experienced) as I was. I remember the shock on the dance/swim teachers face's as they asked what I was doing there. How do you explain that your mother put you into a class that was way beneath your ability because she didn't want you to fail. That she figured success at a much lesser level was much better than failure at a higher level. That she wanted to keep you and your sister equal. That it was easier for HER to only have to go to one class time instead of two. So, now she has two daughters that don't "live up to their potential" in her mind (and in her exact wording to us.) What potential? The potential to be mediocre?

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    Replies
    1. Ah, the potential to be mediocre, I know thee so well. What a great way to make it seem like the children excel in their endeavors eh? Or rather, whatever endeavors are bestowed upon them.

      It may take my sister another 10 years to see even a bit of what I see, but my guess is that she won't. She's stuck where she is, and will always blame me for everything bad that happens to her mother. It's very sad, but also very real.

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