My family relationships are complicated, but then, that may be true for most of us. I have five sisters and am close to only one, the youngest. I get along OK with the next youngest, but her life is problematic, and I may not be her most sympathetic listener. She struggles with an addiction to pain pills, the same affliction that robbed my son of his life. My efforts to encourage her to seek treatment has succeeded in making her avoid talking to me.
My mother, Sofie, had five daughters, the youngest of which is institutionalized for severe brain damage. My mother had Pleurisy while pregnant and in 1960, doctors did not fully recognize the threat of x-rays to a developing fetus. The sister to whom I refer as my youngest, Linda, has a different mother.
With my other two sisters, Marie and Liz, my relationships are often either strained or estranged. If they had to list which of their sisters they got along with the best, I would place at the bottom of their list. Strangely enough, none of them (Sofie’s daughters) have a relationship with Linda, and I cannot explain why. Her name would not appear on their roll of siblings.
Members of my family treat me like a pariah. That too, I do not understand. I have never done any of the truly hateful and hurtful things to them that they have done to me. My oldest son has not called me in years to say hello while his wife never speaks to me at all. I took this up with my therapist more than once because it hurts me deeply, but I don’t like where it always ends up. Could my sisters honestly be envious of me? My son, Tod, thought so. Tod always said that I was a tough act to follow. I accomplished much in my life and did it despite substantial childhood setbacks. I survived sexual abuse by my father, an alcoholic mother who rejected me, foster homes, and institutions. Yes, I have significant failings. I am damaged. I suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I do not know how to build and maintain healthy relationships. My daughter-in-law calls this “just a poor excuse” for not being a better mother, but her opinions about my mothering skills came from my son, Michael. He envied and resented his younger brother and called him my “golden boy.”
Without the love and support of my family, I seek validation of my worth as a human being in the things that I accomplish. I earned a Master in Social Work when none of Sofie’s other daughters graduated high school. My sisters resented me for that. For decades, I had to listen to the incessant refrain that I think that I am better than them, and now, I am called one of the “educated elitists.” Sigh!
Thanks to my education, I held better-paying jobs and lived in better neighborhoods. My worst nightmare was that my sons would end up living the life of poverty that I worked so hard to escape. Those fears were unfounded as both of my sons did well. I own two houses, or should I say, I carry mortgages on two! I am in debt, but I have savings as well. Having more money would be a nice thing but my income exceeds my expenses, and I live comfortably. I mention my finances first because this society measures success by our means.
My art has brought me other measures of success. While I am self-taught and most of my work is mediocre at best, I have managed to get a few paintings accepted into museum collections and earned several national public service awards. As a member of a national military affiliated volunteer organization, I received numerous honors as editor and graphic design artist. I need this validation. You see, without the love and support of family, I constantly doubt my worth. I would gladly exchange all of my awards for a family that loves and cherishes me.
My son, Tod loved me dearly, but he is no longer living. I am grateful beyond words to my sister, Linda and her family because they do love and appreciate me. I love them dearly too. For obvious reasons, I am closer to Linda’s daughters than I am to my grandsons. I wish that were not true, but it is. I take comfort in knowing that no matter how estranged Michael is from me, he is a great father to his sons. I wish that I did not feel so alone and isolated, but life goes on. Ω
dottieriley 