Greetings,
I don't know - I just can't exist in the space between my sisters any longer. It seems the conditions of relating closely to one or the other require I effectively slag upon one or the other - and I can't do that. I just can't imagine they'd ever be up for some conception of family therapy even as I believe such is merited, whereas I just can't fathom forever being the tug of war rag doll I've been. Further backstory has our father dying of alcoholism at age 39, my mother largely debilitated and depressed, while both sisters imperfectly attempted to win my favor as parental surrogates. My father wouldn't so much as register my right to exist, whereas my mother role-reversed and confided much I shouldn't have known. In truth, I don't know what a functioning family is even as I long for doubtlessly idealized 'it'. Surely I am projecting my own needs, for on a social and emotional level they've probably never been met. I have a photo image of the Harlow Monkey experiment on my wall which visibly underlines the core problem of attachment needs unmet. No - I don't know what to do about such.
Indeed, I visited my therapist and shared your reasoned feedback, exclaiming that I know such is true irrespective of my cluelessness as to what to do about it. She reached for a 'stuck points' flyer, amending it to reflect that I've not so much suffered an isolated or time bracketed trauma, but rather a continuous state of trauma reflecting this and that aspect of neglect from my earliest days. My bargain, my reasoning was poor with regards to ever imagining that some formulaic definition of giving or caring would ever outfit me with an ability to genuinely give or care. As to silently being on call to others and never having my own needs acknowledged, I imagine I'm stuck for I don't know how to telegraph needs, whereas I'm filled with the most severe bitterness for so many circumstances when my capacity to give aid to others was overwhelmed and overwhelming.
There is further hidden backstory here to the extent that I was last to remain at home, whereas the timing of such placed me in the role of being a caregiver to my mother who was hobbled by diabetes and largely deaf. Emotional needs weren't met when everything I'd say would have to be shouted twice and three times over. I tried to be all I could for her - but whew!
Continuing, I don't think my choice of profession later on helped too much, for not really having a social identity and yet being on a library reference desk within really tough socioeconomic circumstances just left nothing for me. Memories of finding my mother wedged between the toilet and the wall, fearing that she'd stop breathing on 'my watch', insecurities manifest a thousand ways reflected back at all times. I really don't want to be placed (or place myself ever again) in circumstances where I invisibly give of myself without some balance being afforded with regards to having my own needs recognized and met. Much of this relates to improving and expanding upon personal definition of boundaries.
Returning to my family, I think in a collective sense we are perhaps too different as people to relate closely to each other, whereas existing problems are compounded for the poor lessons drawn from how our parents behaved towards us and what macabre way they clashed (fading memories now). I just feel so hurt, longing for some approximation of a functioning family that registers denial on the worst days, and across sibling relations (not just those that involve myself) fails even on the nonjudgmental presence level.
In a sense society calls for us to create nuclear family to facilitate an evolution, a possible redefinition of self apart from family for 'this is my family' - or some hope. This has been difficult for me, whereas what caring exists within my older sister in particular is indeed so intertwined with her own experiences of trauma that it is almost too dangerous, too upsetting, and too reliably disorienting for myself to try any longer. Yes - I've wanted too much. I think I always did. Ours is not the stuff of filmed Hollywood treatments where broad healing seems possible. Holiday visits, birthday telephone calls, but not much more should be expected or attempted. I think I really need more, but I can't have it. Contact is always scant with my family, with appalling 'action reports' sometimes afforded as to why this or that sister is 'so terrible'. I try to stand my untenable middle ground, remain largely benign, and wonder what it must be like to have a family...
Sorry - just so fatigued and uncommonly bitter I do suppose. For years I've been hoping for a little progress from them, but all I've got is myself. If my older sister on medical disability, someone who stares at the computer for this and that each day cannot evidence the sufficient wherewithal to print a page or save a file, especially given all the brave efforts I've witnessed by the technologically inept in grave circumstances during my days as a librarian, I confess that I just can't try anymore.
I feel so uncompromising for relating such, but my storehouse of patience and caring is completely empty - and has been for what seems decades. It demonstrable is so little to ask of me, and yet I cannot capture in so many words how completely spent I feel serving the needs of many who cannot be helped. An awful, awful admission, the cruel and uncompromising issuance of terms that I know can't be met. I want a future, but such seems possible only via never successfully integrating the past. Usually my day to day function hinges upon imperfectly distancing myself from much via never speaking of it (not here - just in general). I so desire to overwrite poor memories with those far better by way of contrast! Thanks for your attention and patience for here was another self-indulgent and long message. So sorry...
M.
