~ Black Sheep of The Family #2 ~

I was thinking on the way home, how to proceed. What triggered this was reading two separate things, as to the things that others have been through. Initially I couldn’t put my finger on the significance for me, because there were things I identified with, in my own way.

I have a picture of my sister, I don’t know what grade she was in, she looked kind of slow. I mean, mentally and it was only a picture, however much later my brother told me, my sister was in fact slow, mentally. I don’t know what she had or what the problem was. She is a massive blur. She went to the juvenile delinquent home, lived there. She was at a boarding school, I have a very fuzzy memory of going there when I was younger. She’d gotten, I’m sure, in trouble but I don’t remember seeing her face, at all, very clearly. Except for a few instances. My household had fucked up rules. You weren’t allowed to get out of bed in the middle of the night, to go to the bathroom. My sister got into trouble for peeing in the heating vent because she had to go and so as not to get into trouble, she did that instead. She got into trouble, my brother told me how screwed up she was in conversations when we were talking one time. I had no idea about any of this.

We also had a rule, wherein we had to go to the bathroom at particular times at night. #2 I remember, I didn’t have to, so she did. Then she got into trouble in the morning, because she couldn’t. My mother was a fan of boiled prunes. It fits. I got my ass spanked for not going once. So… if you can’t go to the bathroom, you get your ass beat. O.o Yes, they were fucked up, my mother started that shit. <—- lolol "shit" No, there are no lasting repercussions that I am aware of on any level regarding such a shitty experience. :)

Another time, at the dinner table, we were kids, I was small. I was still sitting on a phone book, my mother had made a cover for, so I could reach the table. Too big for the high chair, too small for a chair. I reached my foot, under the table, found her foot and she started to giggle. My mother saw her laughing, asked why I think, my sister didn't want to get me into trouble, so she said nothing. She got smacked for that, course I didn't realize, if I kept doing it, she would get smacked and prior to that kept doing it. Interestingly enough, she didn't move her foot, this went on for a while. Oh, there she is… (in my mind) she had this thing, she did with like her "entire" chin, it would wiggle. She would purse her lips and her entire chin would wiggle when she tried not to laugh. That was pretty funny.

There were more episodes where she would sneak and wear mascara in school. The age is fuzzy, I'd suspect middle school. She OH SHIT there she is… She was heavy as she got older as well, in her teen years. My mother didn't allow her to shave, had her wear curlers with this butt ugly hairdo, and you know… like every teenager, she wanted to fit in I guess, experiment w/make up. My mother and her had a conversation at the dinner table on night, "You wearing makeup?" Her: "no" Mother: Wipe your eyes with this napkin. Her: dab, dab (Even I knew she missed her lashes entirely) Mother: Takes napkin rubs nice and hard, finds mascara. I don't remember what happened after that. I'd assume I've blocked that out for posterity, I'm quite sure she got into trouble.

She was really getting into deep shit at one point, remember I was younger, I had no idea. One time, I was in the TV room, I over heard yelling (shocking) and I snuck down the hall, I hear my my siste sobbing (she was getting a beating) my dad, was delivering it. Mind you, they'd get two of them. 1 from my mother and then when dad got home, the second delivery was administered. So, I hear my sister sobbing, she can't breath and my mother says to my dad, "Don't stop, she's faking it".

WTF? I turned and went back to watch TV. Another time, she'd run away. She'd starting doing that a lot. I didn't understand any of that back then, now I do. I also remember a time, we had a fridge in the kitchen, it was right next to the cellar door. She was made, don't know what age, there I was peering in to see what all the ruckus was about… she was made to kneel on frozen peas in the corner and my dad was hovering over her. I don't remember anything else, just that she'd gotten into trouble and there was a punishment administered.

On one of her visits home from boarding school, and mind you age and all that are very fuzzy, however I was in bed and was woken up by screams in the next room. My sisters. I don't know what the fuck was going on in there. In the morning, I snuck in there… on the wall was blood, from the split lip my father gave her, I don't remember her lip specifically, just that there was blood on the wall. I sat w/her a little while, went back to my room. End memory :)

One time, she was helping my mother dust. Apparently she dusted the table "wrong". How the fuck does one dust a table wrong? She was smacked and yelled at for starting with the wrong leg. Brilliant.

When she was older, after my mother died… she was living with this douche bag. We went over the house, again, to protect my sister (remember the "protect part" for future reference), that was weird. I didn't belong there. I'm sure of it. My brother over the years tried to protect her as well, beat the fuck out of these guys on her behalf. She'd jump on him. That is an individual who has been abused and their head is all fucked up. So you know. It's very sad. I'd speculate, although it isn't relevant really, to me, that my brother and her being so close in age, he felt it was his job to protect her.

My sister always chose, drug addicts and men that beat her. See, she thought that was love, she thought this was normal. My father and brother used to save her when she called. She was unsavable. She was a direct product of her environment and to my knowledge she never got well, emotionally, mentally or physically. Last I heard a number of years ago, she'd had a stroke (?) and was now walking w/a cane. That was around the time she'd asked my brother for $200.00 he felt guilty. Some people … redirect themselves in life. She was never able, to my knowledge to recover.

I saw her once when I was 18. She was all fucked up, strung out I'd pretty much guarantee. Other than the time at the funeral, that was the last time I saw her. I had empathy for her, I don't want her in my life. There's no point, we weren't close, I didn't really know her… the only attachment there was that of living in the same house. Hearing and seeing what she went through, so yes. I have great empathy for someone who goes through such things.

I'd guess she is about 54 years old now. She was apparently a fierce fighter too, my brother told me that she was in a fight with 4 girls once as some dive bar and she was winning. She was a little thing too, I'll attribute that to the drugs.

I don't have any feelings specifically as to her… just that any child who was treated as she was… it should not have happened. It's early, I may have time for my brother.

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