Siblings abused

Watch over Our Children - original digital art

There is no update on the eviction threat or my sister. There's a temporary resolution to lack of transportation to see my therapist.

As always, I think of my sister every single day, just not every single second of every day.

I realize I focus on my brother's death more than my mother's. It reminds me very much of being a child who felt it was too dangerous to be angry with the abuser so she chose the safest route of blame and anger.

I can't touch my mother's dramatic exit without trembling. At least there are words to describe how I feel about my brother. I wasn't prepared for the changes his death would make in my life, but I'm not short on words, not by far. I could easily fill the heart of a violin telling him how it feels to be left this way. ...continue reading

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black tearsI told Dr. D that I realize I don't trust as fluidly since my brother died.

There is a sense of betrayal by him because of committing suicide.

I vomited out my heart the day he died.

We talked about getting some old violin so I can write him letters and put notes in there about things I remember we did together, about when he discovered he was HIV positive and when he picked up and left the state, did his thing with music, went to Spain, went back home to New York and died. There's a lot I'd like to write and put inside the heart of those strings.

My favorite instrument is the cello. I'm a strings girl. He was a violinist.

I want to tell him I was at his recital when he was 15. He gave it at the Children's Museum here in Indy.

I want to tell him I'm proud of him for not accepting that a man with large hands can't play the violin. He grew to 6'5. When he began to struggle he hired a man to help him learn to play at his size. He loved the violin and he was bound and determined to play and play well.

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There's a blog magazine I read called What's your grief?. It helps me process some of what I feel in a more tangible way. Recently I saw an entry called 64 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Grief and immediately honed in on number thirty, “The last 24 hours of their lives will replay in your mind” and 36, “You lose yourself, your identity, meaning, purpose, values, your trust”.

I knew I'd go all over the emotional scale with grief. I knew I'd be in disbelief. I knew I'd sit shocked and trip over myself. I knew I'd bargain, that the world would look different, that I'd have memories so real it felt like I was standing there with him again. I knew these things, but I didn't know my ability to trust would be tested. I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting to feel betrayed by the entire world for having the audacity to continue on without him. I was offended. How could you? How could you possibly keep spinning as if nothing happened? It's an insult.

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The timing of this crisis with my sister is one that has been brought to my attention more than once, but I reject the idea that I should see this upset as anything other than coincidence. She hates me, she's not going to manipulate a person she hates by saying she's going to kill herself. She's not reacting to the entries I wrote about letting her go. I reject the idea that she feels anything at all for me so that she would act out because I said I no longer hope in ghosts. People can say what they want, the timing of this is coincidental, but my stand is firm and decisive.

I sent her a letter to go under her door. Her apartment is the last place anyone saw her or heard from her. I sent the letter because I had to. How could I not? When I realized I could possibly contact her I sent a letter through a friend of a friend.

My every waking thought is her but that's not how it was two weeks ago. Two weeks ago I felt ready to walk away emotionally. I felt ready to move forward and let the past stay the way they created it. But today, she's all I think about. She's all I think about.

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Holding Back the Light - unavailable
Holding Back the Light - unavailable

I hugged the lady very tight. She knows my sister. She gave me an update. My sister has locked herself in the apartment and there is still no movement, no contact, nothing has changed. They do know she was last seen in there. No phone activity, no FB activity.

I hand wrote a letter to her. I said nothing negative at all. I said she doesn't deserve to die and that I understand a lot of what she's going through. I asked her to rethink things, to let her support system do what she gathered them to do. She sought out good, solid supporters.  I know 2 of them personally.

Of her friends, I asked them to have patience with her. She's a 50-year-old woman who doesn't know what to do with herself. She has to be told what to do and when she's told, she will do exactly as she's instructed. She won't do more or less. The lady kept looking at me like it should be simple for her to function because she's a 50-year-old woman. I said, she's not a 50-year-old woman who has matured. Being on her own is culture shock. She has no clue what she's doing, none. I shared the story that tells exactly how she thinks. I told the story about the garbage bag that my mother told her to get. She got the bag and then waited to be told to put the trash in it. Her friend put her hand over her mouth then said, that's exactly what she does. She waits to be told what to do.

I asked that they be gentle with her and understand that her eye sight is limited, ...continue reading

The Last Laugh - available
The Last Laugh - available

Content: Spiritual abuse. Emotional and psychological abuse, homelessness, covert sexual abuse

Mother taught me that if I do the little things right I'll do the big things right. She taught me that a strong foundation must be laid but that all foundations start with a grain of sand. Their grains packed together to support materials much stronger than a grain of sand standing alone. To build up a solid foundation we must do the small things right.

My mother taught me that I have no foundation and that my presence was like a sledgehammer against her house.

My mother taught me a scripture that says, "By my God I can climb a wall" and a scripture that says, "If a tree gets cut down it will sprout again."

My mother placed walls around me I felt I could never escape. Inside those walls she did her best to root out willfulness, individualism and hope.

My mother taught me that I can only trust her and that I don't have the intelligence to live without her. She said I'd never survive out here in the world, that she alone could protect me.

She said to tell her if anyone ever touched me wrong. It was her hands around my mouth, my neck. She touched every aspect of me and left me ruptured.

My dear mother, my poor mother is food for worms. How undignified. I hate that.

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I keep going back and forth between anger and anguish, but I have not felt depressed over this. I realized something some time ago, when I'm angry I'm active, when I'm depressed I'm down for the count. We talk a lot in my therapy sessions about how I respond to my emotions. It appears that anger gets the most physical action. I stand up and gather my guns, my resources.

When I feel lonely I become desperate and irrational. Fortunately I haven't had the feeling of chronic loneliness in many years. Loneliness can break bones.

When I'm embarrassed I kick into humor but humiliation makes me rage against myself which leads to wanting to die. Feeling humiliated is a strong trauma trigger that I don't do well with at all. I stop hearing what's real and want only to bury or destroy that feeling. This is an ongoing issue.

When I'm depressed I stop taking care of myself. Everything seems to be a huge ordeal, including taking out a frozen dinner to put it in the microwave. When depressed I over think everything. The longer I feel depressed the more my environment and appearance deteriorates.

When I feel vulnerable or feel as though I have lost a certain amount of control over my life I begin to obsess. Obsessive thoughts are accompanied by obsessive cleaning and organizing. I start trying to control every little tiny aspect of my environment.

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Today's therapy discussion focused on family matters: mother's thorough brainwashing and effective divisive tactics, scapegoating, emotional boundaries between myself and all birth family and a recap of nightmares from a few days back. After writing this entry I was reminded of the paintings "Resilience Tree," so I included them in the entry.

Resilience Tree

I was awake all night and until around 10:30 this morning. I had my session to go over the graphically violent and blood dream about cannibals and going to a psychiatric prison for the mentally insane because I was guilty of murdering my child self, the inner child of my sister and the inner child of my brother. I'll pick up more on that topic later.

We talked about the complete lack of protection from my mother: physical, emotional and spiritual responsibilities were ignored or out right withheld.

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Content: Suicide, strong emotion. This entry may not be considered politically correct. Comments and likes are off.

I slept well and hoped to have a better day but my head is still spinning, this time with anger.

As much as I don't want to see things go in the direction, they're going, I can't do anything about it. I have zero ability to contact her now. Showing up to where she used to work or anything like that is a terrible idea. Seeing the face of someone she hates isn't going to make her change her mind. The more I think about it, the more upset I am. I think it's cruel to watch and count down and not be able to do a single, solitary thing. The truth is, if she wants to, she's going to. Can someone else talk to her, they have, repeatedly and she's made up her mind. She left and is no longer answering calls. No response to anyone, at all. SHE HAS A THERAPIST !!!!!!

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My mother is dead. My brother is dead. My sister is wasting away, drowning in guilt, anger and fear. I have no inheritance. Its gone because my mother did not protect it. No one thinks to themselves, I may have someone take over everything because I'm going to develop Alzheimer's.

In 1992 when I left that home I knew I'd caused major upset in family dynamics. When I changed my name I knew I'd given up absolutely everything that would have come to me, everything. The thing is, do we ever really expect our parents to die when we look at them as gods? When they stand tall as tyrants over the children they abuse, they're seen as all powerful, unstoppable. There is no future, there's nothing to ground you, nothing to hold on to. So how could I have really known she'd truly disown me and that she and my sister would pretend I do not exist? It wasn't until 2012 that I discovered they'd erased me from their lives. She presented herself as a woman with one daughter. My sister presented herself as an only child.

As a child, my mother showed only her professional side to onlookers. She was well put together and had guys flanking her. If you've ever seen a guy rush to open a door for a pretty girl, that's what happened to my mother all the time. She truly was physically beautiful, but her focus was money and doling out pain.

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