the other baby sis
flashback psychosis seldom chooses convenient moments to assert itself. the current round feels like nothing more than a monumental distraction from holding a steady course through my current day. protest tantrums are bubbling at each stinky reminder of long gone herstory with its sister angst of future potential. I DON'T WANNA! ! ! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! ! ! NO FUCKING FAIR! ! I WISH UPON A WISH! ! !
sigh. . .
processing. . . the sooner begun, the sooner done. again, my carpentry mentor's rhytmic, gentle tenor croons through my head. "don't make it more work than it has to be. . . just let that hammer fall."
my first "baby sis" is near enough to 10 years younger to justify the rounding up for easier math. don't ask me the precise age of any of the other 9 siblings, but knowing the first baby sis's age is as easy as knowing my own. my age is far from the most important fact of my life, so i misfile it, but once i know my age, baby sis's age is a finger count away. should i still be calling her baby sis? her youngest grandchild is physically old enough to make her a great grandmother. i donae believe she has raised her grandchildren, but methinks she has been active enough to have some grandparenting support to offer.
this morning my brain is twisting painfully from a text exchange from her yesterday. my six younger siblings are the main players heavily psychotheraputed "savior complex." baby sis's role in my savior complex was renewed c.1998 when i bought her 12(?) year old son a plane ticket to cross the 1800 mile safety zone i maintain between myself and my birth family. he made the trip alone and lived with us ??unofficially?? for around 6 months before baby sis announced she and her daughter were on their way down with no request and very little planning. arrival to coincide with the beginning of my youngest son's freshman year of high school. no, my daughter of the same age is not expected to bother with that petty freshman bullshit you just spent all summer planning for. she's better than that.
family and community bonding had happened during the time baby sis's son lived with us. the kid community almost immediately dubbed the new arrivals, "the two moms." the elder mom wasnae around much and the junior mom was equally unnapproachable, despite being the same age. our foster son was looking stretched between two worlds. we were all devastated when baby sis asserted her legal right to take her son with her when the three mom volcano errupted the day before YS started his first day of high school.
that feels like enough for now. small bytes and long chews. processing. . .
again i leave the mood icon on the rapid cycling median.
Replies
It was so kind of you to be willing to take in your nephew for a time Arf...... Big hug sweetie... xo
alas, this particular kindness was received with proof that no good deed shall go unpunished. the injuries of the abrupt and brutal ending are still with my own family and the nephew has been in jail for most of his adult life for a sex crime the sister's boyfriend likely committed.
prayers ongoing. . . onward through the family estrangement. . .
the processing seems to be going well. this particular memory stream has so little to do with my current life that processing it feels pointless, but working with the flow instead of fighting it is keeping it quite manageable. i wouldn't have chosen any of it, but nothing new there.
((((((Arfie))))))) <3
the flashbacks and thought loops continue this morning. baby sis was but a 12 year old victim in 1977 when i held that therapy funeral in the shawnee national forest. the guilt of including her in that grievous event was tremendous. it still is. at present, her youngest grandchild is older than baby sis was at that therapy funeral. i havenae ever met her. the same age as her now middle aged son when i attempted to offer him the help i had been unable to offer his mother. the very one who as spent most (all?) of his adult life in prison, branded as a sexual predator.
these psycho snot knots do complicate and convolute over time. the obsessive thought loops surrounding my 10 siblings have grown two more generations since the official beginning of the family estrangement in 1977. the sheer quantity is daunting, even without the 1800 miles of physical distance and unrelated complexity of my own life here.
speaking of which. . . another school day is upon us. yo. . . baby sis. . . can you sing "reveille" for us this morning?
I hear ya ... It would hurt.... Sounds like your sis was about the ego in this case sadly.... I'm sorry that you're still hurting sweetie... xo
thank you, jan.
the good news is that it seems to be going easier this time around. lord knows i've had enough practice and the current baby sis and her siblings need me to stay in the here and now.
respectfully leaving my sister to sort her own with healing hopes for all.
are the accent wars the final loop in the baby sis flashbacks?
all four of baby sis's gk's have creatively spelled and/or pronounced names with great emphasis put on the ? ? ? slang? preferences? declarations? please give me a globally acceptable name for this cross-culture phenom by which asking directions to newark will net you a wild goose chase hunting for the newark in another state or the sin of using the wrong pronunciation of laura will give laura and her minions license to abuse you eternally. there's no excuse for "ignorance." my own gk's still donae know if their mother's name is pronounced "keenta" or "kwinta." my life niece's best friend introduced herself to me as, "keenta." i never heard her referred to as "kwinta" until i met her birth family at the bridal shower. a tear running down her cheek was her only response when i asked her about the phonetic disparity after the shower.
by whatever name, in whatever format, this morning's thought loops through ^it^ have me wondering if this very phenom was the root of delayed language development as a child. for certain it will get me stuttering to this very day.
grammar
the art of using the words to discredit the message.
sigh. . .