Sympathy for the Devil

Remember those private posts I mentioned…well I had no idea what I’d find to be honest  Anyway this needs to happen and WP is hard so I’m probably doin it the worst way  Sorry…I gotta follow the path *shrugs*

Ok so she’s not the devil.

Great song, though. The reference might be a sort of jab…I can’t say. They are her favorite band, after all.

But no, jabbing isn’t really my style. Sympathy for the Devil is more of a reference to my previous post and to my own actions than anything else right now.

This is Take 2. Take one was an attempt to explain the inexplicable and had to be abandoned. During the brief recess between the two I may have given in to the urge to smoke which may have led me to drive to the gas station during which drive I might have been pulled over. Thanks to the worlds nicest cop, I’ll never have to admit a thing. He really could have nailed me, too. I’m not used to cars that go without pushing. Nothing like a little terror to put things in perspective though so thanks for that too, sir. Anyway…

See but I’m pretty good at not saying stuff.

Oh hell…let’s drop bombs, already.

My mother is an addict. There. I said it.

And, not to be insensitive, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be easier to admit that I’m an addict.

I’ll never know. I do have her (and others) to thank for that. I can say I’m honestly very grateful for that much. I mean to be fair, I’ve got a thing for caffeine and I obviously smoke when stressed so I’ve got my things. I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about drugs, alcohol or even prescriptions though and I guess that’s a relief.

I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to that fact about my mother…not even in my head. It’s not a thing you talk about…not even to yourself.

This is what needs to happen now, though. You might think I’m insensitive, unsympathetic, judgmental,  but you’d be wrong. I’ve been sympathetic my whole life. I am still. I’m literally white knuckling through this part where I admit to any feelings of my own about any of it.

Why? Because I want to be a whole person someday and this is the only way.

Ugh I was still kinda hoping I could just say that and be done but nope…

This is rather impossible so I’ll just start at the end. Tarantino style.

She and I drove to Tennessee last week to be with my sister for the birth of her first baby. Sixteen hours together and (so thought) all’s well. Sister actually went in to labor a few hours after we got there and not long after that, baby was born. That’s a really great story I promise to tell once my head is clear. For now the point is that Sister, her Hub, and baby had to stay at the hospital for two days and I was alone with our mother.

Couple facts about yours truly: I don’t take pills. Like…none. It seemed like a bad idea based on observation and figuring out which ones are ok seemed like a trap so I just avoid them completely. That’s just me. I’ve been this way for years and it’s pretty common knowledge. One of the harsh truths I’ve had to face this week is that my mother doesn’t know me. She should…I’m pretty sure I did some of the talking, but she doesn’t.

That’s Fact #2. If she did know me, none of this would have happened. I’m not clear on how/when it all started because unfortunately I was the last to know anything was even going on. If the shit hadn’t literally hit the fan I may have gone on oblivious forever. Someday I know I’ll be grateful it did. Maybe today is the day that’d be swell!

Anyway, so basically some of her meds went “missing”. This is a thing I hear a lot…so much that I guess I don’t actually hear it anymore. Like the many sounds my kids make in the car…it’s part of the atmosphere. That’s part of the truth. The other part is Fact #3 and that is we all know they’re not missing. This is another thing I’ve never let myself really think but is nonetheless true. Wild accusations follow of course. I don’t hear those anymore either.

Then again, I’d never been the Accused. Until now.

I wasn’t expecting that, though I guess I should have been. Everyone else had been. Several times, actually. Somehow I’d never come up when it came time to point fingers, so I had no idea how frigging bad it hurts. I would have sympathized more with the others if I’d known and that I do regret.

She didn’t come directly to me so of course I was able to hide in denial for a bit. Even though I walked in on her going through my bags (a few times) even though suddenly she talked to me in stiff, one word answers in a tone usually reserved for my dad (poor guy) even though she started sleeping on top of her bag (literally) when I was the only other person there…even though it hurt like hell. Because deep down you know. Denial only does so much and clearly mine is pretty thick but it did hurt so…I knew.

After a few days even my denial wore out. Then I was pissed. Oh, so much rage. Because finally I’m being forced to see things and feel things and really know things.

But…I love my sister. And I’d go through hell and back to spare her. I have before so I know I could have made it this time especially because now I had her Baby to consider as well. And Sister…well that poor kid hasn’t had one life event that wasn’t in some way tarnished by this…problem. So I was determined to go two whole weeks as the Accused without a peep.

But if that had worked we wouldn’t be here, would we? Nope!

I’m not sure how it started. I know my mother had done some underhanded something causing me to go shake quietly with rage away from my sister for a minute. Unfortunately the only room available was also the room mother (can’t seem to say “mom” for some reason) and I had to keep our bags. I’m guessing the thought of me alone in there with whatever she had stashed set her off so she came barging and screaming in.

Here’s what still blows my mind…she really thinks people are stealing it. She must, right? Even though it’s always someone different? Even though, 9 times out of 10 there was no one else around? I can’t wrap my brain around that.

Anyway, I wish she’d waited just one more minute. I might have had enough oxygen to resist. But she didn’t and I didn’t and so broke the storm.

I didn’t defend myself and I never will. It is beneath me. Because Fact #4 is that I never touched the stuff. Ever. And that is what I told her. That and that I refused to fight in my sisters home on such an important occasion. She really hit the roof at that point and (presumptuously) kicked me out. Later I realized that was, among other things, to make sure she’d be able to search my bags extensively. Again.

Now…I honestly have no clue what it is she does/takes but it gives her a shit ton of energy so at this point, if I had stolen it, I’d have driven straight home. But of course I hadn’t so I didn’t. And so sister had a chance to beg me to stay. So I did. I spent that night in my car because our mother locked me out but I kept my mouth shut and came back in when sister woke up and unlocked the door.

That’s love, my friend. Seriously.

I did a lot of thinking that night in my car. I faced Facts #5-1,000 I think. Hurt like a sonofabitch but I’m already grateful. I still can’t believe it really happened but I’m glad it finally did.

I’m still very, very angry. And I don’t think it will ever stop hurting. But I had no idea how…oppressed I was. I’m slowly realizing how many things I’m suddenly not feeling. I’m not scared, stressed or even guilty anymore. I had no idea that stuff was there til it suddenly wasn’t. Crazy right. I felt it but didn’t let it sink in if that makes sense.

Anyway, I toughed it out a few more days. Sister threatened her not to bother me so in front of her, she kind of behaved. Not so much though when  we were alone. My only outlet was to cry to my Hub, which I hated. When he couldn’t take it anymore he bought a ticket we can’t afford and I was home the next night.

I would have done the same thing in his position. It will be a long time before I can forgive her. 

Especially since she left a few days later knowing that I’d sacrificed that time with my sister so that the whole thing might be salvaged.

I should have known better.

I also know why she did it. At least the main reason. I really hope nothing happened between her and sister. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I ever learn something did. Probably nothing…pretty sure my sister wouldn’t want me to…respond.

I’m sure this whole thing looks petty from the outside, especially if I actually hit that publish button. It wasn’t…I just don’t have the words required for this kind of depth. I do feel bad…for oh so many reasons. I’ve spent 30 years trying to understand, explain and clean up after her, though. I guess it’s time to do damage control for myself now.

Wasn’t my idea. Sister might blame it on the Secret or something…some sort of mental super power I guess. I dunno…if I could really do stuff with my mind I’d have willed it all away years ago. Things never go the way I think they will so who knows.

Just wish I knew what to do next.

The last thing my brother in law said to me when he dropped me off at the airport was “Just don’t burn any bridges. It’s really hard to un-burn them.”

Damnit! But what else is there?!

Seriously. I don’t know. If you do, please enlighten me.

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2 thoughts on “Sympathy for the Devil

  1. Guys pls excuse me liking myself… I’m just straight strugg getting this post to this place…it needs to be here lol. The compulsive says so. Xoxo

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