Her Over Me
I lent my mother my PC a few years back when I moved into an apartment too small for it and the rest of my furniture. She then lent it to my sister when she was “going back to study” (a lie I’ll never understood why they believed – or were willing to finance more than ten years down the line).
It may seem petty but I refused to give up ownership of it to her. She kept trying to claim it as she moved from one man’s hovel to the next and my parents stood firm. Until now. Now it’s a matter of they’ll just buy me a new screen (I’ve been using my old one in conjunction with my laptop to work from home) or they’ll have to (have to? really? she’s fucking thirty living with some over-aged teenage dirtbag) buy her a new one. The underlying message here, that isn’t even that well hidden, is that if I don’t give it up I’m costing my retiree parents money they can’t afford. I’m the bad guy, the bad child, the selfish one. I’m not loving towards my sister.
Then there’s the matter of Christmas. For a while my parents were firm that her thingman may not attend, even though that meant she wouldn’t either. But now it’s changing, the story is becoming that she will hold it against us, that she won’t talk to us, that Christmas is a time of love and understanding. Yet again the not-so-hidden message is that they want me to buy into them inviting her and dude guy for Christmas. That I must sit through lunch with this fucktard who knows jack shit about me and a sister who willingly has nothing to do with me. They’ll no doubt be high. Fun and games.
I’m getting to the point where it feels like to protect myself, because I cannot be around her, I have to draw a line and say it’s either her or me. And maybe even for Christmas. And I know my dad will choose her. And maybe that’s the way it has to be. If being around my family means constantly having my sister’s toxic cloud all over me (whether it’s my parents enabling her fucking horrendous behaviour or having to see her face and whatever douche nozzel she’s currently dating), then maybe I have to be alone. Cut all ties. And be heartbroken.
But they’ve never chosen her over me. Not once. She’s been sick (mentally) since she was little and she always attacked me. She was always forgiven, excused and let back into the fold. And maybe that’s the job of parents, to love their children no matter what. But it’s not the job of siblings to be beaten black and blue to the point of breaking.
I need my own life. To breathe my own air. To have jackall to do with her.
And if this is the only way, then I hope I’m brave enough to see it through.