There were only two of us but we had a nice time. We didn’t do anything formal, just tea and cake. One can make tea and cake sound stuffy if important facts are left out. I had the tea already and she brought Little Debbie’s. It was a nice visit though with some catching up as well as learning about one another.

I’m just now getting to know her. Interestingly enough, her mother was my foster mother making her a foster sister when I was a child. Small world isn’t it?

It’s sometimes difficult to be in the same room with someone who knows way too much about me, especially since I didn’t get to pick and choose what she knows.  My sister decided this exposure for me which I find unacceptable and disempowering. I don’t know what preconceived ideas she has about me, I only know she seems to like me…and yet I don’t trust it. Why? In general I don’t trust women. That is first and foremost but there’s also the concern of being judged.

This woman knows my diagnosis. I haven’t been given an opportunity to decide if she is emotionally mature enough to handle that. I don’t know if she will tell others. She says she won’t but I don’t know that. It makes me realize that my world feels fragile, like it can come crumbling down if my friends know the real messed up sides of me. I tell ya, it’s so different writing into the internet. It’s liberating to do this but I don’t want this type of open communication or dumping in my personal life off line.

I don’t trust the people around me with my life story because it feels as if my past has the ability to break my present and impede a successful future. I don’t want to hand psychological problems to everyone and ask them to understand them and not attach stigma. The world is misinformed and uninformed and I am breakable. I honestly just can’t take the idea of rejection and stigma or the idea that I’d lose closeness because my mother couldn’t bring herself to love her children and be safe.

I believe the more I lose due to illness, the less I’m willing to risk giving too many details about my life to more than a handful of very close friends. I know that has to change because I’m in a lifestyle that demands trust and communication, yet my heart is sometimes resistant to it.

The other day when the foster sister was here I did enjoy myself but I also stood across the room and watched the two of us thinking: I don’t want to be here right now. This is too much.

I see and talk to her and my dreams go sour, my anxiety rises. So why associate with her? She’s got information I don’t have. She knows the condition of my sister. She knows what took place the last 20 years of life I spent away from my family. I have to ask myself, why did you leave the family? Didn’t you leave because it meant saving your life? Don’t you think you should limit the amount of times you revisit those damaged fields? So I wonder, how will I tell her we can be friends as long as we don’t keep going over how my mother affected my life, my sister’s life and her life.

I have come to understand that she is my mother’s victim by proxy. That’s difficult to explain. She knew my mother and sister for 20 years. She couldn’t save my adult sister from my mother. She watched abuses helplessly and couldn’t do a thing. She is scarred and mourns no longer having my sister as her friend. There is one other person around my age that has been torn by my mother. It seems, when it came to my mother, she destroyed everything she touched. No one got out unscathed. Frankly, I’m appalled by the amount of devastation one person can cause.  While I am sorry for my foster sister’s pain, I can’t take it on. That feels wrong because it was my mother’s toxicity that caused her pain. Even still, she and I will have to have a heart to heart concerning my needs.

My foster sister just dropped in my lap one day. I couldn’t believe it. It happened after her mother died.

This city is smeared with my blood, with memories and people from my past. I can’t get away from the stains but I can plan and resolve to cope. I won’t do this perfectly, and I may back slide in my resolutions, but I won’t abandon them.



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