I Haven’t Talked With My Sister Since 1997

I don’t want to meet with her, and it’s ok

Last time I saw my sister was just after Clinton’s second term started. It sounds crazy; it was more than twenty years ago, in another century.

I’m not angry at her.

I was, not anymore. If I had to be angry with anyone now, it would be with my parents. I’m not angry at her, but I don’t want to check on her. It’s too late; I moved on.

I’m old enough to know that our energy is in limited supply. It should be invested wisely and not spent on a lost cause.

Why would I share this with you? It’s about telling others out there, they’re not alone. Maybe it’s about telling you that you’re not alone.

There’s another way.

Talking about a psychological burden helps. That might be one of my reasons, but not the most important one.

I want to write a text that would have made me feel better thirty years ago, twenty years ago, and ten years ago…

I want people struggling with similar situations to know that leaving their family is an option. It’s not possible to avoid the shame and pain. You can’t erase them, but they can be eased.

I see too many people for whom spending Christmas with their extended families is a burden. They feel obliged to go there. They think they don’t have a choice, even though they know it will be a strain on their well-being. They know the environment won’t be any more supportive than it was the year before.

I heard too many times sentences like these:

• “Be nice to your sister.” — but shouldn’t she be nice to her brother?
• “Aren’t you the sensitive one?” — and aren’t you the tactless one?
• “She meant no harm; it was just a joke.” — one that nobody finds funny, however.

It’s not so much about the words; it’s about the frequency. In a normal, healthy family, they should go both ways. It should be balancing. In a dysfunctional one, the odds will always be in favor of one of the members.

I see too many friends for whom even a simple phone call to their parents is like taking a trip to the land of anger and guilt. Within a few minutes of discussion, their parents manage to twist all their buttons in the wrong ways.

If they have news to share, it’s systematically belittled. If their parents mention their siblings, it’s only to make a comparison in their favor. No matter how often they come to visit, during the next call, their parents will complain about them not staying long enough, not caring enough, not being enough.

Even if they manage to remain composed, it takes a toll on their happiness. The meetings and discussions have ripples long after the events.

They’re compelled by norms, by others, by all of us, to keep on going to these appointments and get their shoot of unhappiness, a sort of anti-vaccination to keep them down in the dirt.

They need to know there’s another way.

A path towards freedom.

First, I want to make clear that one should start by talking about the issues they encounter. It’s possible to work on and improve relationships. It’s an arduous path, but a generous one. And it’s a path that can’t be avoided.

Talking about these issues with your family means you’ve been working on yourself enough to be aware of them. It means you’ve been looking inside yourself enough to experience an awakening of a sort.

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Carl Jung

This work won’t be lost, on the contrary. Whatever the outcome, the benefits of this work will stay with you and will enable you to build a family of your own choice.

The question is to know when to stop trying. That’s a tough one and depends on each of us. But I’m sure of two things. They’re both crucial to your well-being.

• Try to discuss. We all need a chance at improving.
• And, after some time, stop trying. We all deserve a chance at freedom.

I tried, but it didn’t work out well. Maybe I stopped too soon. Some of my friends told me so. But that’s a choice I made and by which I stand.

Does it (still) hurt?

Yes, it does. Of course. But time helps.

A more important question is: does it hurt all the time?

No, not at all.

There are times, specific dates when I think about my sister and my former family. Maybe a few days each year. These are bad days, it can be tough, but my new family, the one I built, the one I chose, is there to help.

We all share a fear of being alone. Family is supposed to be always there for you. But if it’s always there only to take a toll on your mental health and happiness, then being alone might be the first step towards freedom and (re)building.

How sad is it that some of us stay in disparaging relationships for lack of hope to find thriving ones?

I hope they find the courage and energy to step on their path to freedom. It will be difficult, and it will hurt. But in the long term, it will open new dimensions in their lives.

Was it worth it?

That may be the most important question.

To me, the answer is clear. Without a doubt, it’s positive.

There’s pain, but much less than before. When I was younger, I was living in the middle of a psychological toxic waste dump. It was a war zone with hidden landmines everywhere. I never knew when and where the next blow would come from.

That means being under constant stress. That means mobilizing your energy to stay in fighting mode all the time. You can’t let your barriers down; you can’t have a rest. Because, if you do, that’s exactly when the next strike will come.

Our environment is key to our development. Whatever our potentialities, their expression will be the result of their interactions with our environment. The latter can be limiting or supporting, and we can partially choose and shape it.

I was lucky enough to escape. I went AWOL. I opened the windows and regenerated the atmosphere in the room. I changed my environment. I think it was for the best.

May you fare well.

They say you don’t choose your family.

• Well, first of all, that doesn’t mean you can’t leave them.
• Second, you’re not alone. Others have been there.
• Third, you can build, create, make, and grow your own family.

We don’t need to share the same blood to build a network of love and trust. We’re not cavemen anymore. Strangers can become part of our circles and make their way to our most intimate ones.