I Hate My Sister!
Sometimes it is necessary for a person to tell a story that is private, and personal in nature, especially if that story can help someone else. There are few words that are used in our vocabulary that I don’t like to use, and hate is one of them. However with that being said I do have one exception, my sister, I hate my sister. It’s not that I’m mad at her, it’s a hate that will never, ever go away. I will explain…
I have two beautiful children whom I wouldn’t trade for the world, though their father, who I never married, has been in and out of their lives. The relationship with my girls’ father was never a good one and I left him and moved out of state to be closer to my mother in 2003 when my girls were just toddlers. My youngest was only two years old when she was diagnosed with autism, and life has been challenging at times. There weren’t any daycares that would accept her, because of her special needs they weren’t equipped or staffed well enough for the one-on one supervision in which my child required. Therefore I couldn’t work outside the home and money has been more than tight in our little family.
In 2007 I was happily married, had two great kids, and a car that would work when it wanted to and not when I needed it to. I was getting the kids to school late, picking them up late, and sometimes they would miss days entirely all due to my testy automobile. I didn’t have any money, of course, and my step dad offered to buy me a car, which he did and it was beautiful. It was a 2006 Kia Sportage and I loved, loved, loved that car and I loved, loved, loved my step dad, and mom for buying it for me.
In July of 2009 my dad died, and so did a part of me. To really top things off, my husband went out for cigarettes and never came back he called me and said he wanted a divorce. I had been clueless to any signs that this had been coming, but I honored his request and we were divorced within a year. Since we had been living and paying our bills together, I was really stuck in a bad place. My sister called me and said she wanted to help me out because she had heard that my husband had skipped out on me and she felt horrible for me. She said she was doing well and could afford to help, so she said she would be willing to pay my rent for one year so that I could find a less expensive place to live, and get things in order so that I could be that single parent once again. I gladly accepted the help, confided in her and cried to her as sister’s often do. She helped me greatly that first year, until me and my girls found a new place we could call home, for just the three of us.
- I Hate Myself: Solutions
- I Hate People
- I Miss My Ex
- I Hate My Mom!
- I Hate College
- My Parents Hate Me
I’ll bet you’re scratching your head about now, thinking how on earth could this woman say, I hate my sister? Well I’ll answer that question for you now. After I moved and we got settled into our new, smaller place my sister and her husband called out of the blue and asked how I planned to pay them back for the year’s rent. I was flabbergasted as they knew I had not a penny to my name and every cent I got went towards bills that were constantly paid late. I was barely scraping by, they were doing more than fine financially, had a nice house, two cars, etc. In that phone call they basically told me they were going to take my car as payment, they would sell it and keep whatever cash they got out of it as payment. This vehicle that my stepfather was still making payments on his credit card for was being “repossessed” by a family member. She and her husband knew full well what this would do to my life, no way to get the kids to school, or get them food in the house, etc. To this day, that car sits in their driveway, it was never sold.
You may be thinking, yes that’s bad, but get over it but the truth is I can’t. To put the cherry on the cake, and to seal the deal that I hate my sister and I’ll hate my sister forever. She went to visit my stepmom in March of 2013 and my stepmom, not knowing of what had been happening with me and my sister, because I didn’t want to concern her as she was still dealing with the death of my dad. My sister went through my stepmom’s storage unit, with my stepmom’s permission, and took all of the wooden items my dad had painstakingly made throughout the years. My sister had told my stepmother that she was going to bring me half of them when she came to visit our mother. Unfortunately she didn’t do that at all. I was given a small box, with three small items, nothing close to the half she promised she’d get to me.
I had a heart attack that day, a real literal heart attack. I was rushed to the ER in an ambulance and admitted immediately. I was there for four days being monitored and tested for a diagnosis. I had to have a heart catheter procedure which was a scary moment for me, and I was truly petrified. My father had had a real bad heart he suffered his first heart attack at the age of 30. He had undergone triple bypass surgery twice and had routine stress tests, and heart monitoring. His heart outlived him though, his cause of death was cancer, by the time they’d found it, it was far too late.
I spent those four days in the hospital scared and alone. My mother just twenty minutes away had my sister there visiting for a few days, so no one came to hold my hand. My mother came to see me once, stayed for about a half an hour and then left. I was angry at her at the time for favoring visiting my not often seen sister, instead of coming to me who needed her more at the moment. I blame my sister for that I hate my sister for that. I’ve forgiven my mom she just didn’t know which way she was being pulled. I hate my sister for making my mother feel guilty for wanting to come see her youngest daughter who just had a heart attack. I don’t understand my sister’s thinking, nor do I try to anymore.
Ironically my diagnosis was called “Broken Heart Syndrome” which is also known as stress induced cardiomyopathy. After speaking with the doctor about my reaction when I saw the contents of that box, he agrees that the shock of that incident likely caused my heart attack. And I have learned that life is truly too short to have damaging people involved in your life.