Here are the words:
"He had blithely gone his own way, carelessly breaking my heart as he waved goodbye."
I have some homework from my therapist to write a letter to my sister explaining my experience, validating my feelings and so on, so I'm going to kill two birds with one stone and try to use these words in my therapeutic writing assignment. We shall see how that goes!
I have not yet decided if I will attend Christmas at our parents'. My trepidation does not originate in postpartum depression or an anxiety disorder (though that certainly can't help) my hesitation arises from the fact that you will be there. This might surprise you to hear, but things are not at all kosher between us. Everything is not fine. My motivation for avoiding the traditional family Christmas is simply to avoid seeing you and I will explain why.
Many moons ago, when I had just had my baby, I remember you and Mom agreeing to come up and visit and help me out with some light chores and by bringing food; regular postpartum support type of stuff. Instead, you showed up without food and with some stranger (your new boyfriend) and talked about yourselves for nearly an hour while my husband and I listened to our belly's growl in hunger.
Then you took me in another room in a very dramatic fashion and told me that you were pregnant. Pregnant by the boy you were supposedly celibate with,"he sleeps on the floor," you said. As if you hadn't lied enough in our youth, you just had to keep going into young adulthood. Is there some world record you are after?
When we returned, Mom told me "now don't feel like we're here to steal your thunder" and I felt a lash on my heart. That's exactly what you were doing and I was told not to complain about it.
When you all left, I sobbed. I sobbed for you, I sobbed for me, I sobbed for my son. It was mostly his thunder you stole. I never expected to have any. The paltry show of support I saw from you and Mom at that visit was about what I expected from my side of the family. Thank goodness my in-laws are more capable in that regard, but I digress.
A schism on top of a schism formed that day and began expanding. We have never been close, though many times we have claimed to want otherwise, but I feel like this last betrayal has driven the wedge to its terminus.
What betrayal? You just got pregnant? By accident, you say? Bullshit. This isn't the middle ages, you could've prevented a pregnancy had you wanted. I do not find it at all a coincidence that you conceived just as I delivered. You couldn't stand the thought of me or my child having a pedestal for even the smallest amount of time and you tricked that ignorant boy you call a partner into knocking you up to steal our moment, you couldn't be there for me, you had to make it about you.
That betrayal, that lack of love and caring and acceptance for me and mine, that is what I take personally and what has haunted me these past several months, why I don't wish to see you or my new nephew.
It pains me to say these things. To see the sticky blackness of my anger come to life but there it is. I can't hide it anymore, I can't deny it, I am sick with anger at you and that is why I hesitate to partake in our family Christmas.
I'm not interested in watching you cast motherhood into competition and I'm not interested in buying some cheap coconut scented bath products for you as if I wanted to gift you anything more than a glare. I'm not interested in seeing the culmination of years of poor sibling relations in the chubby cheeks of our two infants. I can only extrapolate more comparison, competition, deceit, and pain from you and my family doesn't need that.
Our sibling rivalry is more than spirited competition, it's downright dysfunction. You are obviously not able to accept this or I wouldn't be receiving overly familiar and glib texts from you. I don't want your texts and I don't want your supposed "sisterly" friendship or support. Cut the crap and leave me alone! We are not close and we probably won't ever be close. I'd rather accept that then continue this painful delusion.