What I think I see is that the sisters believe if it weren't for us, their mothers would have been the mothers they needed; their lives would have been perfect or at least, better, richer, fuller.
They would have been loved, enough.
I endorse part of this. The part about believing my mother would have loved her enough, if I did not exist, I do not know.
My sister more than once, dismissed my mother as a crazy old lady. While it very much offended me, I did not say one thing. I just stayed away from her more. It very much upset me that my sister always had her hand out to ask for and accept help of every sort form my mother, while privately dis-respecting her.
It is all so confusing. My sister in a certain way idolized my mother. We both did: her beauty, her poise and confidence. Her presence. Her sense of entitlement. I mean, she dazzled us. She was stunning. Until you woke up and realized the truth of it all.
I am not sure if my sister kept in the game because of the pay off she anticipated at the end, and what she could get along the way.
My sister told me she loved my mother but felt my mother was abusive and disrespected her. She resented that my mother did not help her enough financially. What that would have meant, is that she turn over the bulk of her assets to my sister, well before she died. My sister felt she deserved that my mother pay for her children's education, help with mortgage payments, etc. She asked for my mother's Chanel Makeup, even though she had a profession and my mother, retired.
I do not think my sister had illusions about my mother. But until then end, she did not seem to feel she could let go. Some of it was duty.
I enjoyed my mother. I do not think my sister did as much. My sister knew her better. Their relationship allowed for the gamut of feelings of the both of them. Mine with my mother was more circumspect. We talked about things we could both handle. We largely kept away from topics and situations that would stress us. That is what I fault myself for, now. I kept away from situations that would make my mother want or need to turn on me. I kept it light. I stayed away. I called instead. I did not feel I had to make cumbersome visits, to stay in a hotel instead of in her home. After she would yell at me, I would not automatically ask for more. I feel guilty I let years go by.
Part of the pseudo mom role is to carry the resentment the sister feels and cannot acknowledge toward the dysfunctional real mother.
See, my sister acknowledges resentments toward my mother. They would have knock down drag out fights. Once my sister ordered my mother out of her house in the night and would not let her back in to call a cab. It was a dark and wooded area. Nothing around. My mother had no car with her. That was the level of their discord. Each of them blamed the other. My Mother always felt mistreated by my sister. My sister felt the same.
In our case, I think my mother believed my sister's resentment towards me was because I rejected her. She intimated that my sister felt I had the better life, had more, was stronger, more talented, prettier--true or not. That it was envy and inferiority on my sister's part. But more than envy--my sister felt rejected. My mother urged me many times to extend a hand to my sister. I was always afraid. That was how my mother thought about things.
I think there was anger too that I was out of the picture, and my sister had more responsibility for my mother. More access, but more responsibility. I think she resented it. I think all the way around my sister felt she got the bad deal. That is why, I guess, she needed all those things, and money and favors and access to make up for it.
each of us are experiencing the same kinds of things with our sisters, this kind of thinking, this need to see us discredited, to climb on top of our discredited bones so they can see themselves
All of this is true, with respect to my sister. To see me as nothing, and she as everything, while knowing deep inside her she feels less than, her mother may share that belief, as well, and that her sister, me, was largely indifferent my whole adult life.
Imagine what that would be like, to compare yourself to somebody, to be trapped in that type of relationship, and that person, me, is indifferent. I mean, no matter how much she tried to hurt me, I never reacted. I was affected and confused, and disliked the way she acted and lived her life. But I did not care.
She could feel she had more. But she could never feel that anything she did or thought made me feel less in myself.
I am perplexed about her. She is not a mean person, but she does the meanest things.
I am thinking my sister does not fit the mold. I wish she did, so I could understand, too.
Our sisters are more lonely than we are.
Yes. Lonely in a crowd. She has friends. More activities. Much more. She looks for different things in people.
I wish I understood.
The sisters have not been able to see that the core problem is the mother's behaviors to all of her children, and to everyone in her life.
Yes.
There has been no camaraderie between us at all in our lives that I can remember. Like we have gone through the same thing, and survived together. Nothing. It is as if one of us was a Nazi collaborator and the other, a concentration camp survivor who was singled out to be humiliated and to go without.
In their secret hearts ~ secret even from themselves maybe ~ of course they cherish us, too. If love is the default emotion, as Nietzsche claims, they do love us.
They just don't know it.
So, we will know it, for them.
Yes. I like this, Cedar.
They want to think well of her. They want to think she was a reasonable, good person.
Not my sister about my Mother.
It is me that always wanted to give my mother respect and to have a civil and loving and caring relationship. I succeeded, from afar. I was the one who needed to see my mother as a reasonable and good person, if I was actively in contact with her. If I could not have that kind of relationship, I would not see her or speak to her.
I was never disrespectful. There was a time as a young woman I was livid. As a mature person, I never spoke disrespectfully to her or to others about her.
My sister and mother were down and dirty. Until my sister dropped her at the end. I wonder what my mother thought about that. The why. I know she was sad. And mad. And surprised. But I wonder, really, what she made of her life with my sister, at the end. She loved her, still. She had regret for her limits. She was sorry. But I wonder how she made sense that after a lifetime's relationship, she was dropped.
My mother dropped her boyfriend, too, at the end. He had gotten mad at M and I and called M a "dirty Mexican" on the phone. I told her. She was in the hospital. After 20 years she dropped him. She never called or said one word. He was 92. I guess my sister and mother were cut from the same cloth.
I think all of us represent our mother by proxy to our sisters. They can't hate mothers so they hate us.
I think my sister hates me because she thinks I got more of everything *true or not. And no matter what she does in life, she cannot catch up. That is what I think. Like life is a race for more--of stuff--of things--and no matter how much she gets them...it does not touch the lack in her. And she keeps on thinking it is because I have what she wants.
Except, now I think she thinks she has won. And I am not sure what has changed.
I am wondering if I am making myself live imprisoned in the house and bed, with all of these new illnesses to protect my sister's illusion that she has won. I mean, it may not be to get my mother to come back, after all. It may be to fold, so that my sister can win.
After all these months of hard work, we are learning that what we needed was to know what happened.
Except, I am still confused. I agree that we were the beloved. What I cannot get behind is that my sister's relationship with my mother was conflictual And my sister expressed her disrespect of my mother. I do not think my sister had illusions about my mother.