winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More on the Sib Okay, Okay.My sister, the Paranoid Alcoholic, got out of ICU today and was, immediately, EOD-ed to the local Mental Health Facility. She's still angry. They still have her sedated. She still doesn't want to see anyone but her sisters. I still haven't spoken to her. I sent word with the Mother Hen. I told her to tell her that I love her. But, honestly, I didn't know what else to say. "Stay away from sharp objects," seemed a bit crass. See, here's the thing: My method of defense for situations like this is to mask it in gallow's humor. Strangely enough, my family understands but doesn't quite appreciate that. I just can't say, "What? Do you want me to sit by her side and pat her on the hand and tell her that everything is going to be alright? Well I can't do that. And not just because she almost cut the damn thing off." See, comments like that aren't well received by the sibs though they understand from where it comes. Which is why they don't mind so much when I distance myself when things like this happen. As much as I envy those who do, I just don't get all maternal and dramatic when situations like this arise. Instead, I tend to get angry and sardonic while my sisters are all about the loving and the fixing things. But, to me, loving and fixing means getting hurt and failing because how much you love someone is directly proportional to how much that person can hurt you and chances are they are going to eventually want to test that theory. And, no matter how many times you try, you just can't fix people. Sure, you can influence them. You can even give them things to think about but the truth is, they are never ever going to know or believe something until they figure it out for themselves. Period. Here's the thing about the Paranoid Alcoholic that I sometimes envy but most of the time find that it just scares the living hell out of me: she feels. I mean, she really feels. When she feels things, it's with everything that she has. She puts her entire self out there. Me, I'm just not that brave. Of course, I tell myself that I'm not that stupid, either, but, to this day, I'm not sure if she's loved deeper than I have just because she's been willing to be broken for it. And, boy, have I seen her broken. While my parents, Vodka-Man and the Anti-June Cleaver, were out revelling in life, they left their other four procreations with my sister to raise- which she did- until she was fourteen when she got pregnant and asserted that she should only have to be responsible for the twins she was having. (From the kettle to the fire, I guess.) A series of poorly-chosen husbands later, she finally found herself in a marriage with a man who really loved her. A man who strived to love her- a man who loved her as much as she loves anything. And she seemed happy and settled for the first time in her life. But, just to prove that you can't count on anything, her six-year-old son drowned (along with the family friend who tried to save him) during an unforeseen accident at a Memorial Day outing. And she felt it. She felt it in a way that I will never, ever understand and was only able to see as the lines of her face became more gaunt and she became more thirsty and seemed always on edge. As depression gave way to self-destruction her marriage to the man who loved her so well but who was no longer able to love her enough to make her feel it, ended. One tumultuous year later, in walks the Obsession, a man she lusted after when her first marriage ended at the ripe age of sixteen. The Obsession is how she feels these days. He's what she feels and it's all about self-destruction and pain. She chases after him, discarding her children and other family members to run in his shadows and listen to him tell her, "You're good enough to sleep with but not good enough to be with." And she takes it. She takes it and she runs after him begging for more. Sometimes I think that she looks for ways to be hurt just because pain is so much easier for her to feel than happiness. I don't know. Really. She's a drama-monger and she feeds off of turmoil until that turmoil started feeding off of her. Me, on the other hand, I want as far away from the drama as possible. I want to cover any of that uncomfortable feeling with something you can laugh at. But to laugh at something you really have to step back and be able to see it. Which is why there is always that space between me and the real stuff. Still, I don't mind that so much. Comparatively, I'd say I'm far happier than she is so who's to say who's better off. Does she love better? I don't know. Does she love smarter? I doubt it. 8:26 a.m. - 2003-05-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||