National Sibling Day

Yesterday was National Sibling day all over social media were splashes of happy siblings all loving each other. For me it was a harsh reality of both worlds. I know how great it can be to have the most amazing, supportive and loving sister. And with a flip of a coin I know how hard it is when a sibling doesn’t reciprocate you back. I think of all these things when I am trying to decide if another sibling is right for all of us.
Nobody remembers the day we were born quite like our parents. Our first smile, handheld, hug is all burned into the memories of our parents. Usually the first born is a little different and its for no other reason than they were there first. They have no more personality then their sibling who is older or than their younger who is not more than a thought.
There is no hate like that of a child scorned. A child in their earliest stages are molding their brain with their thoughts, actions and words. These patterns affect who they become later on in life.
My mom had my sister when she was still in school. Like many young teen moms the father never stayed around (imagine this in the 70s, nowadays seems a little bit easier). My mom did the best that she could to provide for my sister and of course for herself. She worked very hard trying to provide for my sister. Until she met my Dad. My Dad treated her as one of his own, she was only 3.
After what one would call a successful courtship they were married with my sister in attendance (I was too just a mere lil bump).
In most stories the oldest sister always wanted a baby sister, and in this one it may be true but one thing that is absolute truth is that I was my Dad’s first born. It is not a matter of disrespect but a matter of DNA truth. This of course was not done on purpose but in a natural reaction to having a first child. I now know this bond.
Within a couple of years my younger sister was born. The two of us being closer in age bonded differently together. We were most certainly each other’s first best friends and got into loads of trouble together. We always had the same toys, different colors and even for the first few years of our life we even slept in the same room. The similiarties were sprinkled all through our upbringing and it wasn’t because of favouritism but because we were childing living a life and learning skills that were necessary for us to thrive as adults. My older sister even left earlier to school so in the end it was just me and my baby sister. Of course we became close we were only 18 months apart.
My older sister always made jabs at our Dad. It was incredibly hard to hear at any age. You see my Dad legally adopted her which he never had to do. He chose to love her and accept her as one of her own. She unfortunately decided not to choose us. She was always calling him “Our” dad then would lash out at us if we said “Ours” too. That would become some of the ugliest and nastiest fights. The one where ownership of a person was thrown around. I know I wasn’t a good child and I said some horrible things. I was guilty of calling him “My Dad” on more than one occasion. I was a child I had no real thought process at that time I was still learning.
It wasn’t until I was 19 that I could see how deep my sister’s hate was for me. After a terrible break up where I cried for 2 weeks straight my dad finally took me into see a Dr. The Dr prescribed me a high level of prozac to combat depression. Obviously the pills didn’t work it wasn’t depression I was suffering but teenage girl angst. I had a broken heart. I thought I had met the love of mylife and it was hard to accept that not only did he not feel the same way but he had cheated on me with one of my friends.
My sister thought in order to protect her family that I could no longer visit her children (at the time she had two). She thought I was mentally imbalanced and unable to be a good role model for her kids. Again now I understand that thinking. I don’t believe I was mentally imbalance but heart broken so I had to be respectful of her wishes.
I went off to school and everything just seemed to fade away. I barely saw my sister just infrequently when I was back in town. I barely talked to any of my sisters in fact. We all moves to different cities, different provinces but yet here we all were back in Alberta.
If that doesn’t seem like the potential of a heartwarming reunion I don’t know what else could be right? We tried as best as sisters could. I was the last to arrive in Calgary and it seemed that I had the most baggage. We were all brought together by an extremely volatile and potentially violent situation on where I was staying. Not to impose on my younger sisters lifestyle (plus I had a cat and she has allergies) so I went off to stay with my sister.
Going into it I knew it was a bad plan but I had no idea just how bad. I am wondering at this point how much information is too much information, how much shouldn’t be shared and if there is any value to actually talking about it now. But I guess if anything is worth talking about at all it’s worth at least telling the truth so without holding any information back here is my experience coming here to Calgary with not to many choices of where to go. What brought me to Alberta was a scarey abusive ex and with not much direction I found myself in pretty much the same situation with a childhood friend.
After the childhood friend had smashed my cell phone I knew the only chance I had was locking myself into the bedroom to escape his wrath and hopefully send a facebook message out. He was mad and was not taking no for an answer. I was able to get a hold of my older sister who rushed off to get me in Signal Hill. This guy actually tried to bash down his own bedroom door. Why was he so angry he wanted me to have sex with him. I guess that is the currency to help out a friend. He insisted that if I had planned to stay there I needed to put out. When I said no he flew into a blind rage and when I say blind rage he actually called 911 to get me removed from the house. The operator had no idea how to respond as he indicate that the sole reason for kicking me to the curb was because I refused to put out. Did I mention he was 300+ pounds and in his boxers. I was maybe 120 pounds so not a good combination. Anyways I was talking in the background begging her to send somebody as this guy wasn’t taking no and he was planning on raping me. What an entire gongshow!! Life couldn’t get much worse right?
Thankfully my sister came at that time and I was able to grab two bags and my cat. We left. He was jumping and screaming like a madman and we drove off into the night. I hate to speak ill about anybody but I don’t know what was worse. His house or my sisters. Not only was the litter box in a hole in the wall but the bed I was expected to sleep in was covered in garbage. That is all I will say about the condition of that. In the morning when I went to have a coffee not only was the kitchen a mess but I could hear them having the most raunchiest sex ever, they were not trying to be quiet at all. I could talk about how her kids were there listening, how she ate a half a loaf of beet and ketchup sandwhiches or that her seedy lil boyfriend threatened to eat my cats. I could also mention that days after all this her kids called both me and my younger sister crying about things her boyfriend said and did at 3 am.
The original post was about National Sibling Day. I loved all the photos on happy, smiling families. It just sucks that my family as a whole isn’t like that. Not only did my sister do all that she also gave me the greatest pleasure of sending me a facebook message a few years back stating how I ruined her life. If I was never born none of what happened to ever will. She also made a wish. She wished that I would die. No matter who I talk to about this they all say the same they can’t belive she would ever say those words. I have them here in black and white to remind me of the level of hate she has for me. She also sent me a voice message the day before my wedding say she owed it to mom to come. Uhmmm no you don’t, no you won’t I think you made yourself clear. If I am dead I am dead no coming back.
skating on the pond
Fast forward to October 16, 2017 at 7:11am, before 7:11am before my son is born. I did die. She got her wish, I was gone. Being drugged up I wasn’t sure who came to see me. I was told my younger sister was there, Lindsey and Kenz, my niece and of course my older sister. If I had a choice she wouldn’t have been there. My husband not truly understanding the full storey allowed her to come see me. I thought maybe (not at that time) we could have a relationship that she could be an Aunt to my son. I treaded very calmly not knowing what to expect.
Two things happened next:
1) I was told she only came to the hospital as she wanted to be there to see first hand if one of us didn’t make it. That if I lost my son she wanted to see my heart break.
2) She called me the night before a huge trip and a milestone for me (I was crowned GGG ’18 queen) to tell me how disgusting I am as a person. That I would never amount to anything and that I should just crawl back to Jeffrey and stay there. She made this call at 1 am. She let me know that I was never there for her kids and I was incredibly selfish.
You see National Sibling Day is hard for me. On one side I have been blessed with this incredible sister who amazes me everyday. She is so smart, kind and loving she is always going to be one of the best gifts I have ever received. On the other hand I have one sister who just wishes I would blow up into a million pieces. The fact that I can’t really do that makes her life miserable. I don’t want to do that to her so I just try to dissappear and keep out of her sight. It makes the decsion on whether or not to have a sibling for Schmoo very hard because I know how much of a blessing and a curse each one could be.3i (resting with anita)

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