So today is my “baby” sisters birthday. I put baby in parenthesis as she turned 19 today. Hardly a “baby”. But my day has been filled of memories of her since I met her when she was 3yrs old (she is my “stepsister” – being that her mother is married to my social father). So many memories in that 16yrs.
And not all of her. Some of me. When our relationship was at its closest. When we both lived under the same roof. When I was 14 -16yrs old. My step mum kicked me out just before Christmas the following Feb in which I was to turn 17, and insisted I live with her before the Christmas the following Feb I was to turn 15. She did potentially save me from potentially being raped, but thats not what we are talking about right now. I was in pretty bad shape for probably the first 9 months in which I lived there with them. That I will never deny. But my baby sister became my rock. My reason for living. My everything. Yeah, it was distraction and diversion as I would put all of my focus and energy into everything about her for as many of the hours of the day as I possibly could. When she was at school was the hardest. I had dropped out of school, I couldn’t be there anymore. Because the rest of my day literally orbited around her; her breakfast, getting her ready for school, getting her to school, getting her from school, making sure she did her “homework”, reading with her, colouring with her, making sure she ate all her dinner, showering her and teaching her to shower herself etc you get the picture. If I slept 4hrs a day that was a good day. I couldn’t eat much, I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to do anything, I didn’t want to be anywhere. Most of all in my own head.
I would read when I couldn’t sleep because lying there not being able to sleep whilst one of my other sisters snored away peacefully on the other side of the room – I could literally feel my sanity slipping away with the hours I was not sleeping when I “should” have been. Sometimes she would wake up and “read” with me for 10mins before she would be snoring again lol.
I literally shut out all my friends. They were immature bitches anyway. But occasionally I wonder what would have been different in my life if I hadn’t have done it. Probably just more drunken nights with other people, rather than alone. But in all honesty, I couldn’t have stayed friends with them. They were so ignorant to everything. But hey. 15yr old girls; who can blame them right? We all mature at different stages and times in our lives, and lucky them for having a longer childhood than me. Right?
I hated myself. Hate is not even a strong enough word. Don’t get me wrong, I have never once been suicidal. I do not judge people who reach those lows. But it does amaze me in all my lows that I never once went there. I did self harm. In more ways than one.
Neither of my parents were really around much when I was growing up. My mother moved back in with her parents/my grandparents when I was three and we stayed with them until they moved interstate when I was 9. My mum was working fulltime, but all of my memories in that time, and in this house, she isnt in any of them. In fact, the one memory I do have of her in that time; my nan always dropped me off and picked me up from school. One day no-one showed up. There was a park next to the school, and a boy in my class lived next to the park. We decided to play in the park and wait for me to be picked up. Just as it was getting dark his mum wanted him to come inside, and he then told her no-one had come for me. Right then, my nan pulls up. She had just done the groceries, and taken them home. And found my mum home, but not with me. My mum had told my nan not to pick me up, that she wanted to pick me up to surprise me. And forgot all about me. Until my nan came home with the groceries and asked where I was.
I have this weird, obsession, is the only term I can think of. I cling to people. Normally women, normally older than me (even if only by a few years, but when I was a teenager it was like women old enough to be a parent, whether my own or a younger Childs), and I honestly cant help to wonder if thats why. Because I spent most of my childhood from the age of 9 alone. I would see my social father every fortnight (most of the time) and my mum was always at work (average 60hrs a week I think) and the rest of the time I wasn’t at school or work I was alone. Most of the time I didn’t mind it, actually came to prefer it, but surely in those developmental years its not healthy.
But I still do it. And I still drink sometimes when I have had a shitty day, because I have had a shitty day. I am still so good at beating myself down, and not that good at building myself back up again. I’m back on anti-depressants for anxiety. (Although I have a 8 month plan for that!).
As much as I would like to think I have outgrown all my issues, I don’t think I have. What if I never do?