Mean Sisters

One of the worst betrayal traumas to understand and find peace with....

I can write many funny stories about the absurdities of relationships between Sisters, and I will, trust me, but first I want to make it clear how harmful this kind of trauma is and how long it can effect our self esteem, feelings of safety and trust and how hard it is to come to believe that our thoughts, feelings, reactions are real. Our sense of reality has been distorted by people who have probably learned this by some other master of the craft.

Relationships between siblings are some of the most complicated ones many of us struggle to manage. We are supposed to love one another. We are family. We are blood. Our families tell us to be responsible for each other. Our families might even tell us we are “The Closest And Most Loving Family In The World!!!”

Many people have had very close and supportive and protective relationships with siblings. Most families tell you that this will be so. That’s how families work, right? I am always envious of the women who have a sister they talk to every day and see every week. They say they are best friends. There are many families who have those kinds of relationships. They are certainly blessed.

But what about those of us who don’t, and are told we do, or should?

Some of my earliest memories of my sister (and my brother but that will come later), was being teased for still having a bottle. I was two years old. Maybe I didn’t remember it from two, but I was told and laughed at repeatedly in my early childhood about “Gina still had a bottle when she was two!!” I was told I was fat when I was three or four because, well, you know, actually most kids that age have bellies…and I did! But my sister wanted me to feel shame about who I was.

We all went to Jewish pre-school and had the option of going to Sunday school. I wanted to go and was so excited to learn more about being a Jew. Both siblings teased me about it so much (because religion was stupid, they would say, something only stupid people want to learn about) that I quit after 3 weeks. Anything I liked they would laugh at.

When I was about six, I stood in front of the full length mirror in her room (making sure she was out of the house, for sure!) and looked at myself and my body. The mind of a six year old searching for love and an understanding of their universe. I was left in that time talking it through with my self and finally saying, “I am not fat, I am cute.” (One of my first signs of being the “instigator of all the dissidence” that a supervisor, later in life, tried to shame me with.)

There are so many stories that set up the troubled relationship my sister and I had. I was the third child. All I wanted was to be loved by her. I followed her around and tried to please her. She gave me a derisive look, a smirk and then looked away, turning her back to me. I was eight or nine and couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I felt humiliated, unloveable and unworthy.

As a kid I didn’t understand that what I was feeling was shame and pain and hopelessness....grief hit me hard and I had no way to make sense of it, no words, no concepts …just feeling like nothing would ever go right for me.

What this kind of dynamic in a family teaches us is to be very careful about who you share your authentic self with, sometimes even hard to do so with yourself! It teaches a child to not trust people because people will shame and blame you if you’re not careful. You have to learn to do everything for yourself because going to someone with a need or want leaves you open to public or private humiliation. It can teach you to especially not trust other women.

Let’s get on with the funny stories now….

Later in life, when I thought my sister and I were trying to like and love each other, things happened….

I was in my early 40’s when a boyfriend bought me a very beautiful coat. I walked in the door with it to show it off and was met with, “don’t put your keys in the pocket, it will ruin the lining”. I said, “how old am I?”

Before going on a Caribbean sailing trip with my father, his best friend and the four daughters, we all met to plan and talk about it over dinner one night when she was in town. Everyone was talking about this and that and my sister said, “I never liked Gina when she was a child”. Show stopper. Everyone looked at me. No one said anything. Later on I told her this hurt my feelings. She looked perplexed and then said, “oh.”

There were times that I did feel close to her and like we were trying to build a new relationship. But then she would pull back, as if she were betraying herself by being kind, and the comments and attitude would get worse.

We once had a very connected and emotional talk about our mother’s mental health issues and how we had been hurt by them. After doing my own work through Pia Mellody’s Facing Codependency model, I shared the book with my sister. I thought it would be helpful and help us feel closer. At dinner that night I said this had helped me a lot. She and her wife said that the problem that her younger sister and I had emotionally about our childhood trauma was because we were so young. That they both knew their parents were crazy and so it didn’t damage them as much. Huh? What? I said, “but you were also young, a baby once also.” They just kept saying they hadn’t been impacted like their younger sister because they were older. Of course, this absolutely makes no kind of sense.

A few weeks later she called me and said, tersely, “I read that book you gave me and I talked to a therapist about it and I’m sorry you feel like you were so hurt by our family and I don’t want to discuss it with you anymore.”

So, OK, these aren’t all that funny, I admit it. What is funny about the stories is, that at some point I realized how weird and off-putting her comments and behaviors were. So, funny, as in weird. Being able to recognize that this was a “her thing” rather than a “me thing” helped me to step back and not allow her comments and behaviors to stab me in the heart like arrows anymore. Then I could laugh. Suspended in disbelief, to be honest.

Throughout my life I saw her interactions with others and she was just as odd and harsh to others. Many seemed to like it, thought she was fascinating. Others admitted to being scared of her. Very few people told her this. I was one of a very few to admit it. I know because she told me.

Her comments had always left me with my jaw dropping, paralyzed, unable to find words to come out of my mouth. Then my head started to shake in disbelief…what, why, how??

Another one for my Secret Great Mysteries of Life File (this will keep coming up, it has been one of the most helpful ways to save my life). Look over to my right side, find the Secret File. Take the secret key out of my secret pocket. Drop the story in. Lock the secret file back up. Put the secret key back in my pocket, where it always is.

I don’t think I will ever figure out why my sister was the way she was. And to be honest, it’s not my job to figure it out anyway. Trying to figure it out just hurt my brain, took up a lot of space in my brain without paying any rent.

I wish she could have done it, so we could have loved each other and been kinder. Many women have come into my office over the years and told equally “funny” stories with the same confusion and emotional reactivity I have felt.

The gift that my sister gave me. Once I figured it out for myself, I could help others. And I have. Every time we “fail” or “get pounded” or “get tricked into letting our boundaries down” with such people, we are helped toward sanity and self love. And we can pass on that gift to others.

Never give up. You too can find sense for yourself around people who make none. You too can learn to take care of yourself, to love and trust yourself so that you can love and trust those who have earned it.

I promise to share more stories about Mean Sisters. This time I will just call them WEIRD. JAW DROPPING. NONSENSICAL.

I hope you find this helpful. Please feel free to comment, ask questions, send me messages with your own stories or questions.

We are not alone. Ever.