So you’re telling me that reading reddit on my phone for 9 hours a day for the past 4 weeks and freaking out about everything is bad for me?
I’m stressed. I’ve also still not got anything to do at my job. Not for lack of trying. So until I get access to the damn training system, I’m stuck. So I just play with my phone all day and monitor my emails hoping someone has a meeting I can attend. It’s causing eye strain. ‘Cause my phone is tiny.
And I’m already freaking out about our summer plans. Well, really my sisters. I’ve recently concluded that not only do I not actually like my sisters, but I hate who I become when I’m around them. Even Mr C says I get way more snippy around them. He understands — but the point is, it happens.
One sister was abusive as fuck growing up. I mean take your pick. She used to weigh me every day and I remember when I hit 100lbs and she ran to “tattle” on me to mom. And she was bulimic — but for some reason she threw up in 5 gallon buckets in her closet. Who had to help empty those buckets with mom? Yep. It was so gross and smelly. Ugh. And she’d wake me up hitting me and yelling. I liked to sleep with QVC on and I was allowed to. I’d turn it down to the lowest setting but she’d randomly come in my room and wake me up by hitting me and screaming at me because my TV was bothering her (no, our rooms weren’t even next to each other). So yeah, I’m a really fucking light sleeper now. Ask Mr C. And I still have nightmares about her. I’M FORTY. You have nightmares about Lovecraftian creatures? I have nightmares about my sister.
Then there was Smokey. My moms birthday present — a black mutt dog. That dog loved my ass. And he hated my sister for beating me He’d try to defend me. The only thing on the planet that actually gave two shits about me at the time (Mom had 4 jobs, give her a break). I’d sleep with mom a lot and Smokey would always sleep with me. And my sister has always had this weird thing about bugging mom (Seriously. In Florida, she cant go through the living room door to get to the balcony to smoke, she has to go into the master bedroom where mom is to go through THAT door. Same with the house on Golf Road. Couldn’t go outside through the kitchen — had to go through the door in moms bedroom. And when we were little — use the bathroom literally right next to her room? Nope — gotta go use the one in moms room on the other side of the house). So she’d come in moms room at night. And fuck if Smokey was gonna let her near me and mom if he had anything to say about. Even in the middle of the night. He was pretty awesome.
She started abusing Smokey too. After school, when mom was at her second job, she’d trap him in a blanket and throw him in a closet until right before mom got home. So I mean, Smokey hated her. It was a problem cause Smokey would draw blood. So one day I got home and no Smokey. I asked what happened to him and Dad joked about how he finally tied him up and drug him out in the woods behind the house and shot him.
Yeah, fun memories. Mom swears she gave him away. I never will really know though, will I? She was never able to present Smokey to me or let me visit him. Even when I begged for my wedding present to just let me see Smokey again. But she never changed her story. Anyway, that’s why people think I hate dogs. I won’t have one. Smokey was my dog. And I couldn’t protect him. And even if they did give him away, he didn’t know I had nothing to do with it. He lost his person. He was betrayed, might as well have been me. I hated having her over with Jack. I warned Mr C and mom that I didn’t want her near Jack. Ugh.
Then there was the time she wanted to kill me. I forget the reason, but I ran to my others sisters room to hide and locked the door. She tried to break the door down with a hammer. She beat a hole straight through the door before she gave up. It was like the fucking SHINING.
Then she just became a raging alcoholic. She’d get blackout drunk and pass out and piss herself where ever. Who had to get her into bed and clean it up? Oh that’s me. Unless she passed out on the lawn where at least there was not vomit or pee but “the neighbors might see.” (Like I said, Mom wasn’t perfect. We were best friends when mom died, but there were a lot of years where we were not close after I finally moved away). I was super into Christianity back then – total bubble Christian in high school. I didn’t even curse! And she’d get really blasted drunk and beg me to read the Bible to her. I’d refuse and she taunt me. I’m pretty sure girl has demons. Like I’m serious, yall. I may not be a bubble Christian anymore, but I’m still a Christian. Might as well have been a devil taunting me.
She also used threats of suicide and self harm as emotional abuse against us. She still self harms. Wears it proudly on her arm for all of us to see. Oddly enough she’s carved a cross into her arm. See the difference is, when I self harmed I hid it. Because I’m not an attention seeker — I was just really fucked up. So when I’d rip open my own skin, no one ever saw it. Cause I have standards. Pretty sure she’s still a raging alcoholic too. Last time I was at my sisters house (she lives with my other sister. Short story is Sister never left the nest — mom moved in the sister so other sister did too) So yeah, I sit down in moms bedroom chair thinking of mom. I look into her basket of books to see what she was reading… oh a giant bottle of alcohol. Don’t think that was moms… We used to do alcohol raids but it never did any good. Other sister says she’s letting the drinking slide because she’s afraid she’ll kill herself (They’re both in black holes since mom died).
She also drove drunk all the time which led to lots of accidents. Once she ran into a parked car and got arrested. She was sentenced to live in a halfway house. It was nice while she was gone. She was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Behavioral Disorder. She came back though. Nothing ever changed.
It’s funny. This week a deep seated fear I haven’t had in over a decade resurfaced. I used to breakdown crying to mom that what if I was like her and didn’t know it? She doesn’t know she’s like she is! What if I’m like that? Ruining peoples lives and I don’t know it? What if I’m bat shit crazy and evil too? Really crazy people don’t KNOW they’re crazy, yall! I confessed this to my husband and said I turn into a different person around my sisters. I hate who I become. He admitted I do become really snippy when I’m around them — but he understands. Wait. I already said that.
Any way, other sister used to be cool. Growing up she was cool and loving. She was away at college and worked at TCBY and when she’d come home, she’d bring me a whole cup of the toppings like reeses pieces and shit. I think she’d send me cards sometimes too.
But the past few years she’s been insufferable. She’s ripped me off financially. She’s a bitch. And she absolutely ruined my Christmas. Killed it. I know she has an autoimmune disorder that causes her sever constant pain and fatigue. And she feels like she got stuck with other sister (even though she’s done nothing to kick her out). So she’s bitter as fuck. And it ain’t pleasant to be around.
Anyway it’s Florida year. I still like going to the beach. And I love my brother and his family and want to spend time with my nephews and keep moms favorite thing alive. Our yearly trips to Florida. But damn, I don’t think I wanna stay in the timeshare with my sisters this year. So I’m like should me and Mr C get our own place? Go in with my bro wherever they stay? It’s too early for my bro to commit if he’s going. But like I don’t wanna wait too late and not have anywhere to stay booked. So yeah, that’s brought all this shit up.
Whatever. It’s past my bedtime. I still gotta lay out medicine for the week! And get my twitchy eyed ass to bed! Lack of sleep is on the twitchy eye causes too! And see, that’s another difference between me and sister — I have a psychiatrist and take my medication and try to not let my personal crazy destroy everyone else’s lives.
Also I’m married. And we’re like in a healthy relationship. Surely husband would have left me by now if I was like her?
I need a valium. Don’t worry, I take 3 a day.
Oh and I want to look for a cat but it stresses me out SO MUCH. Friends, please find me a very needy cat that just wants cuddles and constant attention. I was thinking maybe contact fosters and see if any of them have a needy as fuck cat? Like I need fuzzy snuggles.