She was a string bean skinny misfit kid with dyslexia in a family of “healthy”, well educated, snobbish know-it-alls. Her manner was neither mild nor brazen but sneaky and conniving. She smiled at you with innocence and a plan. The girl couldn’t be trusted but that was her strong point. That’s how she got away with murder in a family hell bent on violence and chaining the movements of its children. I was brazen, open with defiance. It got me in trouble but my sister was sneaky, boy was she sneaky.
When I think of my sister I think of weakness. I think of her crying, of her mouth open expressing every pain with grand performance. I hated it. I thought she was so weak for showing pain. I thought she was so weak when she behaved in a submissive manner. Now today, when someone is submissive it angers me. I feel a huge lump of anger fill my belly and rise to the surface with a blast of expletives. I want to strike them. I want to shut them up, show them what weakness gets them. Why can’t you just stand up for yourself? Why can’t you fight back like I did? God!! She and I lived in the same world but we survived it two different ways. She survived it by submission. I survived it by out right defiance. Both of us survived, isn’t that the point, surviving the impossible any way possible? It worked for her, submission did. I mean she’s a capable adult right now, holding down the same job forever it seems. Yes, she still lives with the mother and she’s passed up so many chances to advance and separate from the mother. But she’s not the skinny misfit kid anymore that I see in my dreams, hurting me. She’s an adult now, a tall, plump adult who I sure hope has moved past her sneaky and abusive ways.
When I talked to MacBlue on the phone today (an unexpected phone session) we discussed how Dr. T’s sudden departure feels much like being uprooted as a child. We moved all the time and suddenly, leaving behind our belongings. MacBlue and I discussed possible reasons for why the mother moved us around. In that conversation I mentioned the sure reason for why the mother made certain my sister and I stayed divided. With my sister’s cunning plans and my thinking ability to see it through we would have been unstoppable. The mother couldn’t have that now could she? Two kids who put their head together to overthrow a tyrant, two kids completely different putting young resources together to survive that tyrant would have been something to contend with. There was no way in hell the mother could afford for us to be friends. But I tell ya, it hurts. It feels like she took my sister from me and that hurts. I wish I’d gotten to know a side of her that didn’t strike me and didn’t touch me.
When we were kids I sought my mother’s approval but more than that I wanted my sister’s. It seemed everything in me needed it. I needed it more than I needed my mother’s love. I try not to think about it too much, about my sister I mean, but lately she’s been in my nightmares. She’s the one offending not my mother or uncle but my sister. The thing is, I’ve stopped being angry about it. I know why she did what she did but it makes it difficult when I know I both love and hate her. She was a simple kid growing up in complexity trying to do what she could to survive. I make no excuses for what she did to me other than that perhaps she wouldn’t have had she not been taught how. That of course is open to argument. One thing is not, she can never say I hurt her. You don’t strike people you love. I couldn’t hit her back. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. How do you repeatedly raise your hand and bring it down only later to say “I love you”?
Austin (still sleepless)
Weaknesses and Submission for Survival
Monday, July 09, 2007-5:47PM EST
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