Punks Kid Rock is the registered name of my American Quarter horse gelding, Rocky. This blog chronicles our adventures together,
as well as stories from my horse past and, occasionally, a tidbit from my non horse life.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

My sister

My sister is a drug addict and an alcoholic. I have known she uses pot since I was 13 or 14, but I just recently realized she is addicted to pot and alcohol. She uses them to cope with her depression.

Today it just hurts. I want so badly for her to want to have a relationship with me, and she says she does... but actions speak louder than words. I know in her way she loves me, but she can't (or doesn't) spend the effort to make a relationship with me.

She is going to be the Maid of Honor at my wedding. I don't know how I feel about it anymore. I wasn't going to pick her, but then the friend I was going to choose also doesn't ever contact me without me having to say something first. Then my mom wanted me to choose my sister- wants, really, for our family to be whole and happy when it isn't. But for my wedding day we can all pretend and put on our nice clothes with our hair done up and the pretty makeup, say nice things in speeches and cry at the first dance, then go our separate ways. To an outsider, you might not notice the tensions under the excitement of a wedding, or the seemingly small comments made from one party to the next, comments that express years of hurt and anger without really saying it.

It would be great for her to- change, really. I struggled over that word choice but I think it fits. But people don't really change much, do they? She has so much potential, ability and good to give to the world, and it's being squandered and squelched by her addictions and untreated mental illness. The hurt just keeps being pushed around, some drifting here or there and simply adding up like dust bunnies over the years.

I keep imagining this Talk that we could have. During our Talk, I would tell her how hurt I am by her not being in my life, how she should go to therapy, quit smoking and drinking to cover up her feelings and fulfill her potential as a person. She would listen and we would cry, and then at the end we would say we love each other and she would do it all. The relationship between her and my parents would heal, they would realize that all along they'd been struggling to come together. I realized after I typed it that I said "my" parents, but this is fairly accurate. They are her biological parents, they love and try to support her but in the end, there isn't much there. Just like between her and myself.

How can you know someone you never talk to, and when you do talk, it's reminiscing about being eight when running barefoot through the woods was the most complicated thing you had to do. My stupid heart loves her, even though she hasn't given me any reason to feel that way in- my God, at least 6 years. Yet, when we're together we can click back together. Maybe that's because I still fucking worship the ground she walks on because I have always adored her. I took whatever shit she handed me for a relationship and treasured it. She could show up on my doorstep after not speaking to me for years and I would take her in. I won't give up hope for her.

I won't give up hope for her. Some days it seems like trying to hold onto sand in a sieve. Is it worth it? She gives no indication of caring, other than random texts of when she's found something that makes her think of me. These give me hope.

She doesn't know that we're moving yet, or that I've found a puppy I want to get. I was going to tell her but, even after scheduling a time to call her, she didn't answer. I try not to be surprised when stuff like that happens, and I try not to let it sting, especially when the reason for her not picking up when I call is, "I ended up staying at so-and-so's house longer than I meant to."

Is it sad that I just got the urge to have a shot of Sour Apple Pucker? I won't do it because that might make me an alcoholic (which runs rampant through my family) and I don't want to depend on it to feel better. It doesn't make you feel better, anyway, it just puts the problem on the back burner until you're not drinking anymore.

I miss her.

No comments:

Post a Comment