Lord,
I don't know what happened overnight,
But I woke up this morning
With my heart in my throat,
And tons of nervous energy.
Last day on-site at MetroTech.
Packing up the Uhaul tomorrow.
Setting out for Upstate Saturday.
And then...
School and work have always been my buffers,
Welcome escapes from the crazy
Sometimes awaiting me in my family life.
The fact that I will now be going Upstate,
And will be alone in the house with my sister for two weeks,
Is forming a familiar, unwelcome knot in my chest.
I have broached the conversation
About my need to return to Arizona
Several times with my sister.
For each reason I present,
She's finding a way to refute it,
Or work around it.
She's not getting it, God.
She's avoiding the issue.
And Father, please... I have to go.
Manipulation was a skill
Honed to a rapier blade in Mommie's hands,
And one that my sister inherited.
Mommie could assault me with words
That would cut me to the quick,
And make me second-guess
My actions, decisions, motivations,
My very sense of self and identity.
My sister's manipulation
Used to be of a more turbulent strain,
Involving thrown objects,
Tossed furniture,
And a verbal barrage learned from our mom.
She's toned down...
But I sense the edge still there.
I developed a system of
Anticipation, avoidance, lying, and giving in
Very early on.
At that point, it felt like the only way.
It was easier to roll over and play dead
Than stand up for myself,
Assert myself, or fight.
The passing years only saw
More and more of me dissolving.
I didn't engage in my first true act of rebellion
Until I was 20, and moved out.
Adalheid has done so much
To teach me new ways of thinking
That aren't laden with guilt.
But there are apparently several gaps
In my so-called filing system,
And my sister is one of them.
There was a moment when we were on the phone,
And she said things I remembered
From an incident when Mommie was alive.
It involved an overturned dining room table,
A knife, and enough blood
To scare the crap out of me.
I panicked.
It was like I was there again,
Reliving some horror movie scene,
And all the old impulses and behaviors
Rushed to the surface.
I doubted.
She wouldn't - Would she? -
The not being sure blew me away.
So to New York I came.
Father,
I know that there's an unspoken expectation
In my sister's mind.
I know that I'm about to fall short of it.
I know an attack is coming.
I know that all the pent-up resentments and jealousies
Are about to foment to the surface.
I am so afraid of the fallout from my actions.
Afraid almost to the point of... what?
Immobility? Capitulation?
Self-sabotage? Dissolution of self?
No. NO.
Softness and compassion, in and of themselves,
Are not bad character traits,
But taken to an extreme, can be.
There is a difference between having a healthy conscience
And allowing myself to be consumed and controlled by guilt...
Guilt for not living up to people's expectations,
And for choosing a life
That removes me from
The immediacy of my sister's life.
Father,
Help me find the fine line of balance
Within myself...
I don't know what happened overnight,
But I woke up this morning
With my heart in my throat,
And tons of nervous energy.
Last day on-site at MetroTech.
Packing up the Uhaul tomorrow.
Setting out for Upstate Saturday.
And then...
School and work have always been my buffers,
Welcome escapes from the crazy
Sometimes awaiting me in my family life.
The fact that I will now be going Upstate,
And will be alone in the house with my sister for two weeks,
Is forming a familiar, unwelcome knot in my chest.
I have broached the conversation
About my need to return to Arizona
Several times with my sister.
For each reason I present,
She's finding a way to refute it,
Or work around it.
She's not getting it, God.
She's avoiding the issue.
And Father, please... I have to go.
Manipulation was a skill
Honed to a rapier blade in Mommie's hands,
And one that my sister inherited.
Mommie could assault me with words
That would cut me to the quick,
And make me second-guess
My actions, decisions, motivations,
My very sense of self and identity.
My sister's manipulation
Used to be of a more turbulent strain,
Involving thrown objects,
Tossed furniture,
And a verbal barrage learned from our mom.
She's toned down...
But I sense the edge still there.
I developed a system of
Anticipation, avoidance, lying, and giving in
Very early on.
At that point, it felt like the only way.
It was easier to roll over and play dead
Than stand up for myself,
Assert myself, or fight.
The passing years only saw
More and more of me dissolving.
I didn't engage in my first true act of rebellion
Until I was 20, and moved out.
Adalheid has done so much
To teach me new ways of thinking
That aren't laden with guilt.
But there are apparently several gaps
In my so-called filing system,
And my sister is one of them.
There was a moment when we were on the phone,
And she said things I remembered
From an incident when Mommie was alive.
It involved an overturned dining room table,
A knife, and enough blood
To scare the crap out of me.
I panicked.
It was like I was there again,
Reliving some horror movie scene,
And all the old impulses and behaviors
Rushed to the surface.
I doubted.
She wouldn't - Would she? -
The not being sure blew me away.
So to New York I came.
Father,
I know that there's an unspoken expectation
In my sister's mind.
I know that I'm about to fall short of it.
I know an attack is coming.
I know that all the pent-up resentments and jealousies
Are about to foment to the surface.
I am so afraid of the fallout from my actions.
Afraid almost to the point of... what?
Immobility? Capitulation?
Self-sabotage? Dissolution of self?
No. NO.
Softness and compassion, in and of themselves,
Are not bad character traits,
But taken to an extreme, can be.
There is a difference between having a healthy conscience
And allowing myself to be consumed and controlled by guilt...
Guilt for not living up to people's expectations,
And for choosing a life
That removes me from
The immediacy of my sister's life.
Father,
Help me find the fine line of balance
Within myself...
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