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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 668112" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I am trying to think Serenity, if I did what your sister did. See flaws in my sister, in order to have a relationship with my mother.</p><p></p><p>I never deceived myself about my Mother. It was just that I never knew how much I loved her. I did not know how much.</p><p></p><p>My mother did bad things to me, but they were out in the open. You could see what was happening. Nothing was hidden. And she could recover. And I could recover. After it was all over. With time. And I could learn what to do. What not to do.</p><p></p><p>There were months and years when, if kept at a distance, she would not hurt me. I learned how to manage my relationship with my mother, so that I could have some relationship. My mother learned how to do it too. We both wanted to.</p><p></p><p>It was only at the end when I took care of her that I got so badly hurt. For 35 years I had found a way to keep my pain at bay, either with no contact, or moving away selectively. When I cared for her as she was dying, all of the ways I had managed my pain were no longer there, when I needed them most.</p><p></p><p>It is not that I do not admire my sister. I see her strengths. She has worked very hard on herself. She is strong and persistent. She perseveres. She is brave. She is a hard worker. She tries to be a good mother.</p><p></p><p>With my sister there is no way to limit her hurting me. My sister attacks in surprise. With a smile. And then the blood is gushing out. And she is still smiling. You keep asking yourself, what happened? Was I really stabbed in the heart on purpose, or is that ketchup all over my sweater? And you keep wondering for years and decades. Did it really happen? If it did, why is she smiling, and putting the blame on me for getting ketchup all over.</p><p></p><p>She does not seem motivated as was my mother, to temper any quality that she has in order to make a relationship work. She denies any responsibility for anything. She seems to feel I do not exist or have any human rights, and at the same time, as if I am this powerful person who has destroyed her. This justifies to her anything she does to me. Yet gives me not one right in the world at all. And no protection. She is very smart.</p><p>I do not forget the things my mother did. I do not forget how self-centered she was. I do not forget how mean she could be. I do not forget she let her father die alone. I do not forget how I not she, went to my grandmother, who died with me when I was 28 years old.</p><p></p><p>I think if my sister and I could share our experiences with the mother we share, our experience would be the same. Except that she could never feel a commonality with me because she believes anything I got I did not deserve. And even though I ceded the field to her for my whole adult life, I would know that she was right. Because my sister wanted and needed it all. What she got was never enough. I made peace with what I got. What I needed, I found, eventually.</p><p></p><p>I am coming to accept that there is nothing that I can do. I am boxed in. My sister will always feel the need to punish me for existing. Even though I was born nearly 5 years before her. Like you with your sister, I am her scapegoat. But it was not to protect her relationship with her mother. </p><p></p><p>Perhaps, it is because my role was to love her and to protect her. And, like my son, she believed that the love was unconditional. That she could treat me whatever way she wanted, and I would forever be there for her. When I was not, she became enraged. She was spurned. </p><p></p><p>So at the end, my sister felt spurned by both her mother and her sister. And she saw it as treachery that had nothing at all to do with her. I do not think she felt loss. She felt rage. That must be why she would not talk to my mother or I, or see my mother. Somewhere inside her she must have felt there was no punishment too great for my mother to bear. It was revenge. But she did not place the blame or responsibility on my mother. She put it on me. Because that seems to have been my universal role. Like a universal remote. Why on me, and not my mother?</p><p>I still do not get it.</p><p></p><p>When she sent me an invitation to her second wedding, we had not spoken for 6 years or so. I did not respond. I guess that was very bad. I guess, if you do things like that people get mad at you. </p><p></p><p>But how dumb. What did she think? Like I am going to fall into line, because she sends me a pretty card? Not a phone call. Not a letter. A card. I think it was just like all of the other times. She wanted me to show up. To be there. So the sister could be on display. It had nothing at all to do with me. I think I knew that. I would not comply.</p><p></p><p>I am accepting that there really has not been anything there for 55 years. Just two little girls, afraid and alone. With nobody else at home.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 668112, member: 18958"] I am trying to think Serenity, if I did what your sister did. See flaws in my sister, in order to have a relationship with my mother. I never deceived myself about my Mother. It was just that I never knew how much I loved her. I did not know how much. My mother did bad things to me, but they were out in the open. You could see what was happening. Nothing was hidden. And she could recover. And I could recover. After it was all over. With time. And I could learn what to do. What not to do. There were months and years when, if kept at a distance, she would not hurt me. I learned how to manage my relationship with my mother, so that I could have some relationship. My mother learned how to do it too. We both wanted to. It was only at the end when I took care of her that I got so badly hurt. For 35 years I had found a way to keep my pain at bay, either with no contact, or moving away selectively. When I cared for her as she was dying, all of the ways I had managed my pain were no longer there, when I needed them most. It is not that I do not admire my sister. I see her strengths. She has worked very hard on herself. She is strong and persistent. She perseveres. She is brave. She is a hard worker. She tries to be a good mother. With my sister there is no way to limit her hurting me. My sister attacks in surprise. With a smile. And then the blood is gushing out. And she is still smiling. You keep asking yourself, what happened? Was I really stabbed in the heart on purpose, or is that ketchup all over my sweater? And you keep wondering for years and decades. Did it really happen? If it did, why is she smiling, and putting the blame on me for getting ketchup all over. She does not seem motivated as was my mother, to temper any quality that she has in order to make a relationship work. She denies any responsibility for anything. She seems to feel I do not exist or have any human rights, and at the same time, as if I am this powerful person who has destroyed her. This justifies to her anything she does to me. Yet gives me not one right in the world at all. And no protection. She is very smart. I do not forget the things my mother did. I do not forget how self-centered she was. I do not forget how mean she could be. I do not forget she let her father die alone. I do not forget how I not she, went to my grandmother, who died with me when I was 28 years old. I think if my sister and I could share our experiences with the mother we share, our experience would be the same. Except that she could never feel a commonality with me because she believes anything I got I did not deserve. And even though I ceded the field to her for my whole adult life, I would know that she was right. Because my sister wanted and needed it all. What she got was never enough. I made peace with what I got. What I needed, I found, eventually. I am coming to accept that there is nothing that I can do. I am boxed in. My sister will always feel the need to punish me for existing. Even though I was born nearly 5 years before her. Like you with your sister, I am her scapegoat. But it was not to protect her relationship with her mother. Perhaps, it is because my role was to love her and to protect her. And, like my son, she believed that the love was unconditional. That she could treat me whatever way she wanted, and I would forever be there for her. When I was not, she became enraged. She was spurned. So at the end, my sister felt spurned by both her mother and her sister. And she saw it as treachery that had nothing at all to do with her. I do not think she felt loss. She felt rage. That must be why she would not talk to my mother or I, or see my mother. Somewhere inside her she must have felt there was no punishment too great for my mother to bear. It was revenge. But she did not place the blame or responsibility on my mother. She put it on me. Because that seems to have been my universal role. Like a universal remote. Why on me, and not my mother? I still do not get it. When she sent me an invitation to her second wedding, we had not spoken for 6 years or so. I did not respond. I guess that was very bad. I guess, if you do things like that people get mad at you. But how dumb. What did she think? Like I am going to fall into line, because she sends me a pretty card? Not a phone call. Not a letter. A card. I think it was just like all of the other times. She wanted me to show up. To be there. So the sister could be on display. It had nothing at all to do with me. I think I knew that. I would not comply. I am accepting that there really has not been anything there for 55 years. Just two little girls, afraid and alone. With nobody else at home. [/QUOTE]
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