Why I won’t go back…

I have one brother and five sisters.  My brother turned eighteen three days after I was born.  My sisters were ages 16, 12, 8 and 4.  My brother and my oldest sister moved out shortly after I was born and my next sister moved out of state before I can remember.  Suffice it to say that I don’t know any of the three very well.  That leaves me with my two sisters that were 8 and 4 years old when I was born.

In the past few years I have realized that I don’t know these two sisters very well either.  I never really spent any time with them outside of my mother’s house and I wasn’t there very much as a teenager.  Then I moved out of state for a while myself.  When I came back it was only about three and a half years before I moved on again.  For the sixteen years I was with my husband, one of my sisters wasn’t in my life at all, for most of that time she was and still is out of state.  The other was in my life off and on, but not really in the terms I would consider knowing a person.  At least I don’t think she ever took the time to get to know me, maybe I knew her better than I would like to think.

In the fall of 2014 I decided to fly to Maryland to visit my oldest sister and the youngest one.  The one I would be staying with is the youngest besides me and I hadn’t seen either of them since my mother passed away in 2006.

My sister and her husband, whom I had never met, picked me up at the airport.  Her husband grabbed my fishing bag from and I kiddingly said to my sister, “He stole my pocket book”.  At that moment he shoved the bag back at me and said “I was just trying to be a gentlemen.”  I thought maybe he was just nervous.  I was wrong, he turned out to be a jerk, but you will read that for yourself.  Anyway, we drove back to their house and the first thing this man asked me was “Do you mind if I have a beer in front of you?”   Needless to say, I don’t drink and apparently they had previous notions about my being the A.A. police.  (Just so you know, I am not the A.A. police.)

For the next four days, all my sister did was drink.  I had never seen her drink before and at first I didn’t think anything of it, but when she started drinking at 10am and it went on all day I thought maybe it was an issue.  I digress, during those four days, her husband became more and more agitated with me, especially after hearing that I wanted to go to a meeting.  I had told them previous to going that I would want to.  It had nothing to do with them, but clearly he didn’t like the idea very much.

I was supposed to stay at their house for two weeks and then drive back to Massachusetts with them when they were going to visit my sister’s grandchildren.  On the fourth night there, it was during dinner her husband was getting very volatile with me and we began to argue.  I was trying hard to get along with him and there were moments I thought he was trying to, but my sister lost it.  She pitched her dinner plate off of the wall and started to scream at him.  I had called my other sister to come get me for a break and I caught her on the phone telling her not to come.  She wouldn’t let me get on the internet to get a flight home and so I left.  I called my other sister back again and she said she could be there in two hours.  I told her I would start walking and I did.  For two hours I walked down the highway in Maryland to get away from the chaos at my sister’s house.  My other sister came to get me and I made it to a plane the next morning.

After I got home, my sister (the one I was staying with) called my other sister’s making accusations that I had made a scene.  She told my third oldest sister that I said I was glad her son had died.  She said I was crazy.  It became about my being bipolar.

A few months ago I was extremely stupid.  My sister that does live in this state, the one I guess I could say I know better than I would like to believe.  I put John and myself in a really bad position.  I knew ahead of time my sister had control issues.  I suspected ahead of time that she was abusing her Gabapentin.  I knew ahead of time that my sister had a lot of issues beyond these things.  But I did it anyway, because it sounded good and she seemed so sincere.  It would have been great to stay a few months, save up money and move into an apartment of our own, but that isn’t what happened.

Over a period of a month, my sister came up with a million ideas, ranging from us saving money for an apartment, to saving money for a house, to buying a house to build, all getting more and more unrealistic for our situation.  She bought the wedding dress for me, which I thought was great, but then she went so far as to buy furniture for my apartment that I didn’t have yet.  She said she didn’t want us to ever leave because we helped around the house.  During all of this she made quite a few unrealistic requests, such as telling me she only wanted me to spend an hour with John a day and that she did not want me to close my bedroom door.  I told her that John and I had a close relationship and that wasn’t going to change.  I ignored her comments about the door and closed it anyway.  She wanted me to watch t.v. with her, but I don’t like watching t.v.   I could go on, but the point is that I was not catering to her every wish and she didn’t like it.

After all of her ideas, one Sunday she came right back to the beginning again and said “I can’t wait till you get your apartment so we can decorate.”  The next morning I woke up and went down stairs to make tea.  She was in the kitchen and she informed me that she had doubled her Gabapentin that morning.  She was drinking a cup of coffee with that and less than a half an hour later I came down the stairs to give John a hug before he left for work and when I got to the bottom of the stairs, she was suddenly there and she grabbed me and used my force coming down the stairs to body slam me.  She then jumped on me and held me down and told John to leave.  He was yelling “What are you doing, get off of her, leave her alone.”  I was screaming at her and to quiet me she started to shake me and then kick me.  Finally, I grabbed her leg and bit her.  She screamed and let me go and I got up.  After a minute I went running up the stairs and John went outside not knowing what to do.  She followed me up the stairs and wouldn’t leave me alone.  She wouldn’t let me out of the room and I was yelling at her to get out of my way.  I couldn’t get through without putting hands on her and I knew that was a bad idea.  She threatened to call the police and say that I hit her and she threatened to drop me off at the homeless shelter.  I finally got her to let me out of the room and I left.  John was outside and I went with him.  I have not been back since.

These are my closest sisters.  No, I won’t be going back again.  I am ashamed of myself for putting John in that position when I should have known better.  I am angry that we were unable to get all of our things from her house.  I don’t have my guitars anymore, there is a whole list of things and I didn’t have anything I didn’t want.  I am angry and I am hurt and I needed to write what happened with both of them.

As for my brother and my other two sisters.  They seem like nice people, but I don’t know them very well as I said and they all live somewhere else, so I guess there isn’t much left to say.

I am angry, hurt and waiting for my self loathing to go away.

I am angry and I am sick and tired of my sisters blaming everything on me because I have a diagnosis.  They have their own diagnosis, what is so horrifying about mine, that is what I would like to know.  What do people think Bi-polar means?

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8 thoughts on “Why I won’t go back…

  1. Bi-Polar means “we have an excuse to blame everything on her because then we don’t have to confront our own issues.” In your terminology, it is simply a crutch they use to support total denial. As for your stuff that is still there, perhaps John could get it with/without a county sheriff?
    Keep smiling because, for all your issues, at least you are working on them and should be very pleased with yourself.
    Take care Trae. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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