The world spins madly on
Since I last wrote, my sister was in rehab for a month. There she met a boy. She’s been dating said boy since one week into the recovery programme at the clinic. Wonderfully healthy.
The signs of her using have been there since she got out.
Coming home and passing out for hours. Constant flus and colds. Constant coughs.
Then, jesus, I can’t remember how many weeks ago it was except it was the week my neighbour killed herself and I woke up at 3am to the sounds of her mother’s soul tearing apart and put my arms around that mother in a freezing passage way while we waited for an ambulance that could do nothing for a two-day dead girl.
It was that week that my sister and my mother had an argument. She pushed my mother, our mother, so hard that our mother fell to the ground – slammed to the ground and could barely move. Turns out she’s fractured a vertebra in her back in two separate places.
My sister broke our mother’s fucking back.
My father tries to ‘stay neutral’, but in not defending my mother, in not telling my sister that would she did was beyond reprehensible, beyond disgusting, he’s taking sides. Keeping the peace means buying into her narratives and playing by her rules. What if it had been me?
Inevitably another blow out followed.
It’s “just weed”, it’s “just psychedelics”, don’t you know? It’s all about spirituality, she’s “fine” as long as she can have a daily joint.
She’s moved in with her boyfriends.
The insanity wheel just never ends.
My sister’s going to die before I ever have a chance to have a real relationship with her,
Part of me wishes she’d hurry up and do it, part of my is so close to total devastation that the only thing keeping me together is my ability to firmly put this all out of my mind except for these moments: alone in a cold flat, rain outside and two glasses of wine in my belly.
How long can a heart break for? Mine’s been breaking for the last four years – and it’s not over yet.