My Sister, The Angel

I was blessed by God with a large family; 3 sisters and 2 brothers, not to mention parents that didn't divorce. Sadly, I was never able to appreciate what I was given. My family was dysfunctional. Broken. Disrespecting. It was like there was practically no kinship at all. My siblings and I rarely interacted, if not from our own individual issues, because we were either being criticized by each other or criticizing each other. Something we can attribute easily to our parents. But that doesn't really matter. What does matter is that, even by the time a single one of us slightly pulled our heads out of our asses enough to acknowledge the err of our ways, it was way too late. My oldest sister died way too young at 43 a few years back. The next sister was who-knows-where doing who-knows-what. My third sister was so busy trudging through her own family drama, whether facilitated or otherwise, and then digging herself out of the tangled web, I could hardly expect to have that close, sometimes forced, great sisterly relationship we had for a few years. And that is definitely not all her fault. I was so busy trying to fix guy after guy, ripping my self esteem down further and further, that sometimes it was I who was emotionally unavailable. And my two brothers were no better. My dad was an alcoholic, and my mom had the mentality of a 5 year old what after multiple brain surgeries thanks to good ol' cancer. So, I had 7 beautiful body masses, every one of which shared the same last name, and I wasn't allowed to have one decent conversation, let alone a relationship. Sure, that's my example of how to become a useful part of society. A mother. A partner. That's who I should pick to surround myself with.

And that's what I did. A slew of bad relationships, not necessarily progressively worse, but also not the other way around. Couldn't maintain friends, mostly while in a relationship. Grades started to slip. Priorities changed, fluttered, became practically non-existent. And then I turned 30. The big three-oh. People make way too big a deal about 30. Its just another year, in between 29 and 31. Ten year reunion was done and past way earlier. I've had kids. Hmmm...and that's about the end of my list. The list of what would happen through the progression of my life that I managed and re-managed internally my senior year of high school. That guy I was going to marry?? Long gone. And married! That house I was going to buy?? Blew those savings, on nothing more than another disabled guy. We dated, shacked up, I paid most of the bills, until I quit my job like he suggested so we could live the "free, entrepreneurial life style" that he was accustomed to, and somehow made ends meet. Sadly, I had no idea most of this mumbo-jumbo was a bunch of druggie nonsense. Yep, of course. I caught another one.

What's worse is I got pregnant. In an abusive relationship. Something I'd watch my mom and my sisters go through and tell myself I would NEVER let that happen to me. I would die first. But sadly, pinching myself to realize I'm alive hurt even more than normal. Even the tears it brought to my eyes stung more than tears ever had before. I let it happen. I let more than I'd like to admit happen. I've allowed myself to be abused. I've quit my job. I've sold my car. I've conjoined my cell phone on a family plan. I have 2 kids and nothing else. I am exactly who I told myself I would never become. And I can't get out.

For a long time, I thought, "If I can just wait it out and stash some money, I'll get out!" But that never worked. Amidst the disgustingly abusive arguments about what a terrible mother/housekeeper/person I am, I would end up having to use the stashed money on the baby's formula or new school clothes because, "didn't I just give you $200??" Yeah, yuh did. 2 weeks ago when there were no groceries in the fridge, no diapers on the door, and no formula in the pantry. Formula, by the way, that costs $35 twice a week. You did give me that, and I'm sure my terrible cooking and cleaning and playing with kids skills don't equate to some more money, let alone the week worth of work I spent at YOUR shop making sure everything's done: FOR FREE! But again, that is my fault. I was always promised a paycheck, but one was never cut for me. And I wasn't able to cash any that were because there wasn't enough money in the bank since there was that huge deal going through. Needless to say, the wait it out trick left me dry and even more torn down. I'm pretty sure there isn't an insult I haven't heard. And all I want to do is get out. But I can't.

Its just the way he wants it. I'm powerless, even feel it inside myself. He's in control of everything. I think about a shelter but am too afraid to even try. I figure out another version of the wait-it-out-then-escape escape. Another doosy. And another after that. As the tears pang my face, I'm always brought back to that one Thanksgiving I spent in Illinois with my sister. Not too long ago, after she'd been diagnosed, but before it won. She knew me. Twenty-something years had passed between us, and somehow, she knew me. I know why. Because I was her. I was broken. I was stuck. I was in an abusive relationship and I couldn't get out. And, Oh! The kids. Except there was one difference. After she had been already expected to lose her battle, and after she found her abusive husband cheating for the ump-teenth time. After she'd gotten so sick from the chemo, and had to deal with her own 5 kids growing up and doing teenage things. After she had lost all of her hair and become a stronghold in her grandkids life. After all of this, she somehow mustered up the courage to leave her abusive, cheating, and, on top of it all, ugly husband and live on her own. I was so proud of her. I was in awe. She would even sometimes talk about his "charm" and blah blah blah, but she did it, and she made it!

More than I can say for myself. I didn't even marry the guy I handed all my earthly belongings to! Of course, I was smarter than that....? Needless to say, my sister, the angel comes to me sometimes. Not in ghost form, or knocking noises. Her face will jump in my head and I hear her say my name. By then, I can tell whether she approves or disapproves of my choices, and this same thing has happened just this week. I heard her last words to me, "Take care of that baby girl!" And I realize I'm doing the opposite of everything I've ever wanted to do. Yes, I'm spending time with my kids, and teaching them, and loving them, and feeding and bathing them, and teaching them rules and consequences, but I'm also allowing them to see me disrespected and broken. I'm not letting them know the happy and funny me. Instead, I'm showing insecurities, lacking self esteem. What kind of mom does that?? So I'm brought back to reality, thanks to God and my beautiful angel, and I'm left to figure out how to finally put an end to it. I've managed enough common sense to realize I'm not a terrible person for getting a 9-5, having to put the kids in day care and live in a not-so-state-of-the-art place. At least I will show them that I can provide for them and that they can be happy with a happy mommy. I know that if I am able to do this, not only will I still be doing all of the things with them I already do, they will also learn me without all the abuse and insults. They will see a mom who has confidence and can smile.

So that brings me to the very important if. I'm no longer scared of a shelter. I'm not incredibly worried about the kids adjusting. So how do I get out of this cycle that, as history has proven, ends up in cancer and death without the opportunity of showing the world and your children your potential?? I honestly don't have an exact answer, but I can see my sister's face and I know that as long as I believe in my faith and myself I will get out of it.