too personal to post

I have not wanted to write a post about this subject because it is really personal to me and my family,  but it has been plaguing me for weeks now and I just want to get it out and see how I feel.

My sister went to jail beginning of October and will be there until the end of November. She will be missing her daughter’s birthday among other things.

I don’t know how I feel about this. My sarcasm is my emotional outlet. I want to go make a shirt that says, “My sister went to jail and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” But it isn’t really all that funny. My niece will now be able to say, “My mother went to jail,” and she is old enough to remember it.

I love my sister. I love who she is. I think she is truly a good person. But she makes bad decisions or maybe just decisions I wouldn’t make. I don’t know which.

She has spent a night in jail more times than I know; once when my sister was pregnant with my niece and at least a couple of times in the past six months. This time they made her stay. I wonder how many more times she will go to jail in her lifetime? In my niece’s lifetime? Sometimes I wish she would stay there. It is good for her. She is happy there. She isn’t doing drugs. She isn’t smoking. She has her girlfriends. She has a safe place to sleep. And I don’t worry so much about her when she is there.

My constant worry is for my niece. I don’t worry so much about my sister because I can’t. I physically and emotionally can’t. It is just too much to bear. I worry to the extent that the possibility of the things she does may one day kill her. And I feel so connected to my sister at times that I could not imagine that. I could not bear it.

She has been making these choices since we were in high school together. She got involved with a guy at a very young age. She started running away and doing drugs and so many other things I don’t know. I remember her sneaking out of the house. I remember her being yelled at for one thing or another by my parents. I remember sitting in the back of my parent’s car driving around for hours looking for my sister who hadn’t come home the night before. I remember one instant where I was in my room and I heard commotion and I opened the door to see my sister crouched down against the door and both of my parent’s standing over her, screaming at her. I remember my sister doing things I could not even admit out loud. I never could understand how my sister could sleep at night. Maybe it was the only time she felt safe.

I am so full of emotion; of sadness and of worry. I don’t know if I can ever really feel it all because I will be so overcome with grief.

I have always worried for her. I have always hurt for her. I have always longed for her to be happy; to find peace. And yet I don’t know if she ever will.

Maybe it was because our biological father left us at such an early age. My sister may even remember that. I don’t. My stepfather adopted us when I was around five years old. I don’t consider him my stepfather. I truly think of him as my real father. The one that taught us to play catch. The one who combed our hair the first time and we immediately wanted it cut, not because he hurt us, but because he went so slow and tried so hard to be nice that I think it hurt more than my mother ripping it through our long hair. This was the man who taught me to respect myself and work hard. This was the guy who took us to the park and we ate dinner together as a family. This guy was always on our side when it came to my mother and her stern parenting style. I think our life is better because he is in it. At least that is my opinion. I don’t know my sister’s, but she always seemed to be his favorite, if he had one.

My sister has always had a problem or need from men that was never fulfilled. We used to joke about her guys being flavors; there was always a new one. I remember my parent’s at one point even saying they didn’t want to meet any more guys unless she had dated them for at least a couple of months. Her first husband also used drugs and when she left him it was because he had tried to hurt her and my niece when she was just six months old. Her second husband, from what I know, he doesn’t work, never has money, has a warrant out for his arrest, has an ex-wife and two really difficult children and his mother also has a previous jail time. Now don’t get me wrong. All people who use drugs and go to jail are not bad. I understand things happen. But this is my sister’s mo. These are the people she surrounds herself with.

My sister’s house, which isn’t her house, but rather a guy who stalked her earlier in life’s house who was the only one left who would take them in. They had already been to my parent’s house, borrowed way too much money and stole from them. They had been to his mother’s house. They had stayed at a couple of friend’s houses too. This was the guy who let them stay. A guy who had already come to her apartment and banged on the door late at night to the point where my sister hid in the closet with my niece. Now she lives with him, with her husband and her husband’s children who occasionally come and stay with them.

She doesn’t worry about my niece getting to school. In fact, she has dropped her at school and then picker her up two minutes later to keep her at home. She doesn’t worry about keeping a job. She doesn’t worry about taking her daughter to the doctor’s office or getting her glasses. She doesn’t worry about leaving her all alone with strangers; with strange men. Her focal point his her husband and his children. When the kids take something of my niece’s and she gets mad, she is punished for it. They constantly break her things and hide her stuff. This is a kid who won’t get rid of anything or leave any of her stuff anywhere except my mom and dad’s place because she is afraid  it will get damaged. This is a kid who carried a 20lb backpack for the entire fourth grade. She wouldn’t let us empty it out. She wouldn’t do it herself. At the end of the year, we found an apartment guide in it among all the other things. She kept everything. I feel for her. She doesn’t have any of her own space; nothing of  hers is respected. And she doesn’t even have my sister’s unconditional love above others. All she wants is to be with my sister. She wants my sister’s love. And I fear, as I feel, she will never be able to get it because I don’t think my sister knows how to give it.

When my parent’s finally asked my sister, her husband and their children to leave, they gave them a choice – my sister and my niece could stay, but the others would have to leave. My sister left her daughter with my parent’s. My niece crawled up on my father’s lap and cried like her heart had broken. And if it were me, mine might have. She chose her new husband over her own daughter.

She chose a man who constantly gives my sister bruises and has on one occasion that I know of hurt my niece too. My niece has regaled us with tales of the police coming and my sister pleading for my niece not to tell them what happened. This is a man who didn’t have the money to pay for my sister to buy comisery things at the jail when she was all broken out from their products. My parent’s were there for her. This from a man who hid in the garage when the police were arresting my sister. This from a man who doesn’t care to take care of my sister or my niece. He allows some other man to put a roof over their head, to provide the food that they eat. This is a man that does not make himself available at a number for my sister to call him at from jail.

I don’t understand. I never have and I don’t know if I ever will.

I pray constantly for her safety and for the safety of my niece. I worry about someone abusing her. I worry about how naive she it. I worry about how un-naive she is. She knows things a 10 year old shouldn’t.

But what can I do?

Nothing. I know that.

I try to just tell myself that I am doing the best I can. I am trying to provide a safe and loving environment when my niece comes to stay with us. I try to tell myself that worrying doesn’t do anyone good. I tell my niece every chance I get that I love her; how much joy she brings to my life; how blessed I am to have her; how special she is.

Just today, I picked up my sister from jail for her one day reprieve to go home and get her clothes and get things organized. She is being released during the day for a work program. I didn’t realize how much I missed her and how much I worried about her until I saw her. She looked really good. And all my hopes went back up. I immediately thought she will come back. She will become the person she used to be. The person that loves us and cares for us, but I know deep inside that that person is gone. She is a new person with similar characteristics that come out occasionally. Brief glimpses of the girl she used to be. The one I grew up with. The one that protected me and took care of me.

My big sister.

God, how I miss her.

She is the one I am pictured with to the right of my blog. I am on the left, she is on the right. She is my Sunglasses Sister.