I’ve been in contact with my oldest sister quite a bit recently. She’s done a LOT over the years to help me out, but since I left our hometown, we’ve grown distant. The conversations she and I have had recently and the way she has responded to me have brought back memories of why I couldn’t wait to leave home and distance myself from my family. My sister is a kind person, as I said she has done a lot for me, her little brother, but it’s all coming back to me these past two months as she and I have been in contact with each other – I doubt I could get far enough away from my siblings to wipe away the pain and hurt of our shared childhood and the dysfunctional parents responsible for it.
“They” say family is important. “They” say family is a treasure. Hmmm. I can see where that’s true, for some. As for me, if I could leave the planet and never hear from my siblings ever again, I’d avail myself of the opportunity, in a heartbeat, without hesitation. I don’t love my siblings. I am a narcissist with no real connection to them. When I casually say “I love you” to any of them, I am lying. And it’s easy.
Being in contact with any of them is too difficult, what with the trauma we shared at the hands of parents who never should have reproduced. Damn them both…just damn them both.
Family isn’t always what “they” say it is. Family can be a reminder of memories of a hell that will escort one into the grave.
I don’t love you, ****, even though you’re my big sister and you took care of me. I can’t love you, I can’t love any human…and I need to never ever see your face again, because the pain you represent is just too much for your dysfunctional damaged brother to handle.