My Sister and My Epiphany Last Night

 

 

I think I finally figured out WHY my younger sister hates me and has distorted views of the past. When this epiphany hit it was powerful.

Being 53 and 8 years older than my sister, I know thing she never knew nor wanted to about our parents. The one thing I still do not really understand though, is why she pretty much hated me from the time she was born. I suppose I could blame that on culture that twisted an underlying mental illness into a warped perception of the past that fit her need to separate from reality and create one of her own.

Before my sister was born our parents fought all the time, but behind closed doors. Rarely did I see physical violence, but I could hear it. Most of the arguments were also kept behind closed doors. They kept up appearances outside those doors, but inside could be pure hell at times. 

Clyde, the man who raised me and that I refer to as Dad, was a veteran of the Korean War, had participated in the MK Ultra Project and talked about it frequently. It was his participation in that project that led to his heroin addiction. I can still remember helping mom pack his lunches for work and putting his "medicine" in it. I remember the stories of how much they paid him to go in a room and take a pill or drink a glass of water and then be observed for hours. His retirement pay from the Army was quite good from the way we lived back then. To this day I never knew how much he received monthly.

Long before I was born he had retired from the Army and began working for Ford in Saline, Michigan. Mom was a stay at home mom, once I was born she never worked again, which was the same year that she and Clyde got married, 1970. Dad was Quality Control Management until she went to court to get him admitted to a mental facility against his will. I remember mom saying that dad made about $17 an hour before he was forced into retirement from Ford. Now, keep in mind this was the late 70's so that is some damn good income for back then. I remember when they went to buy a car, the funniest thing too. He worked for Ford but went and paid CASH for a 1976 red Monte Carlo with a split top vinyl roof and white leather seats!

I remember when mom got pregnant with my sister and all the fun we had shopping for her nursery. I picked out quite a bit of what we put in there. At the time we had this amazing Holly Park mobile home with 2 huge bay windows, one in the living room and one in the master bedroom. I recall it also had two sinks in the bathroom, sliding doors on the tub and china cabinets in the raised dining room. I still recall the metal banister around the dining room and many of the holiday meals we had there. Phoebe had her own room which was the bedroom right next to the living room. Mine was the one near the bathroom. 

Phoebe could never know that once she was born, dad pretty much shunned me and she has carried on that behavior never even knowing that he did so. She was too young to even remember how he doted on her, spoiled her rotten. At times it felt like I was on the outside looking in, but I learned to love the new found freedoms it came with. In late 1979 or early 1980 - cannot recall the exact dates, I recall going to the courthouse with mom. This is when she got the order to have him hospitalized at Battle Creek VA Mental Hospital. I remember when the police showed up to take him away and how I screamed and tried to stop them. I remember mom standing there holding Phoebe and how one of the police said that they were there to help dad, he was sick and they were taking him to get help. The last coherent thing dad ever said to me was that it was ok, he needed the help. 

After that I was an angry kid for a long time. Mom kept worrying about money and how we had to be careful now that dad wasn't working anymore. We went from living pretty much without limits, to such a strict budget that none of us were truly happy, or so it seemed.

As Phoebe grew, her bitterness towards me became VERY evident. She called me names, verbally degraded me every chance she got and mom rarely scolded her for it. Yes, I wore thick glasses, was over weight and had bad acne. Phoebe began early on to put on this air of perfection and luxury, especially when she had to go outside of the home. I am not sure where her need to do this came from, but it did begin VERY early on.

The bullying I suffered at school was nothing compared to the pure hatred my sister had for me at home. The real hatred began when we moved from Michigan to Kentucky though in 1985. I think this is where Phoebe's true rage towards me began because she got uprooted and forced to give up her friends that she loved so much. Mom always tried to blame that move off on me and my behavior, but her phone calls with family told a different story. Money was tight, rent was being increased, the car kept breaking down and she couldn't afford to fix it. Many times she sent it over to the high school to let the auto shop class repair it. According to those phone calls we were barely hanging on financially. 

We stayed with a family member when we first got to Kentucky and that is when my rebellion began. I did not want to be there. I missed my school, missed my friends and did the typical 15 year old teenage rebellion shit of staying out late, running around with boys and anything to piss mom off. Phoebe began this strange separation around the same time. She seemed ashamed of being poor and began demanding high end clothes, high end hair care and expensive things we really could not afford and this put mom in a worse financial position that she was when we were in Michigan.

We moved around a few times when I finally got mom to send me back to Michigan. I couldn't take the environment at home anymore. I didn't fit in at the school I was forced to go to. We lived so far from town I couldn't really have friends and due to Phoebe's behavior I could not have them over. The main issue that drove me to leave was Phoebe doing things and blaming it on me, then mom believing her. It got too much so in 1986 I returned to Michigan where I met my first husband and ran off to Virginia Beach and got married.

Phoebe did not seem happier though. Their living conditions worsened and they had moved into a few houses that were basically falling down around them. When I left we had lived in a really crappy place out in a holler. When I briefly stopped in on my way to Virginia Beach, they had moved into a house on Blair Street that should have been red tagged long before they moved in. We did not stay long, the attitude from Phoebe was seething with rage so thick the air felt like you could cut it with a knife. I grabbed a few things and Ray and I left for Virginia Beach.

We had a baby girl in 1987 and the marriage fell apart in early 1989 when I left him and drove back to mom's. Phoebe had become this monster that I no longer even recognized. Her demands for the high end products had forced them to move to a lower priced house that was filled with black mold and falling apart. Her need to put on this air that she came from wealth was driving mom into insanity. 

Mom liked Ray and kept trying to make us reconcile. I resented that. Even after the divorce she kept trying while Phoebe fell in love with my daughter and they became best buddies. I wasn't much of a real parent back then to be truthful. Mom took to my daughter and even though I worked, sometimes two jobs, it was never enough to please mom or Phoebe. I made good money but still relied on welfare for things and Phoebe HATED welfare, detested it and very verbal opinions about it. She loved the benefits of me working at the chinese restaurant though and all the free food. 

Because of the time I spent working and going out with friends, mom was more of a parent to my daughter than I was during that time and Phoebe formed a bond with her as well. In 1991 I took a friend to see her sister on Mother's Day and met my second husband. We moved in together fairly quickly and this is when Phoebe began a campaign to get my daughter back with mom. The marriage was amazing back then. I got pregnant again fairly quickly and that's when the first bout with CPS began over my first daughter. Once Morgan was born, CPS showed up and took Brandi from school. My real hell began that day, but at the time I didn't even see the truth.

Brandi went from foster home to foster home while Phoebe became angrier and angrier. Each court date she was positive CPS would place Brandi with mom and each time they didn't her rage towards me grew. It wasn't until later in life that Brandi had told me that she and Phoebe had cooked up the whole thing because she wanted to go back to my mom's. For 7 years I had to do back breaking work to help pay for attorney fees and all sorts of other shit to fight the charges against my second husband. It wasn

''t until he had been falsely accused of abusing Brandi that the abuse to me began. Not once had he ever even raised his voice with me, but then he was falsely accused of hitting Brandi. I had a miscarriage in September of 1992 and then a preterm birth in 1993 because of the stress of fighting the lies that had been told to CPS and trying to jump through their hoops to get Brandi back. They did not take Morgan though, their entire case was that Lewis had hit Brandi because she was his step child. Nothing was farther from the truth though. He loved her like she was his own and he never once made a difference between either of the girls.

Phoebe's plan had failed though and CPS refused to place Brandi with mom. Due to the stress mom's depression got worse and her dementia began to kick in. I think it was 1998 that I finally gave up the fight against CPS because Brandi was getting totally screwed up in the head and worked with them for family placement in Michigan with her dad. It took a while but that finally happened and after that Phoebe's hatred was no longer just simmering under the surface. Now it came to full frontal assaults.

Not only did Phoebe lose the ability to visit Brandi when CPS took her, but once she went to Michigan Brandi was no longer in contact with Phoebe by phone. Mom became sicker and I knew she had cancer, even spoke to a few of her doctors but they did not listen to me. During this time Phoebe gave her best friend the boot because she got pregnant. Phoebe's need for fake appearances was overwhelming and mom finally broke down and went into a deep depression right before 1997.

For a brief time Phoebe came to stay with me. I received a frantic call from Carol that mom needed to be hospitalized and Phoebe was at her house. She feared CPS would put Phoebe in foster care because of mom's mental issues and begged me to pick her up so I did. Phoebe hated this arrangement and when mom got out of the hospital I waited for Carol to tell me when it was ok to bring Phoebe home to mom. When I did, it was clear mom still was not in a mental place to really handle anything so Carol began helping her out. I lived 90 miles away and had 4 children at home and one living in Michigan so my hands were full and I lived too far away to be of any real help.

Recently, Phoebe accused me of forcing mom into the hospital, kidnapping her and stealing mom's checks. Sadly, she somehow actually believes this and no amount of telling her to call Carol can convince her otherwise. Carol made sure mom's bills were paid during mom's depression spells. Carol made sure the house was stocked with food, Phoebe was taken care of and that was something Carol had discussed with me before it even happened. Not once have I ever handled mom's money,nor could I tell you how much she received. I never wanted to know and never wanted that responsibility because I knew that Phoebe was bleeding her dry and I wanted no part of that.

When mom passed away in 1999, I was pregnant with my sixth child. I think Phoebe resented the fact that she was not named on the life insurance and was not a part of the funeral planning. The funeral home would not even permit her into the conference room. Only those actually named in the policy were permitted in. After that she never really wanted to speak to me again, nor did she stay in contact with our older brother. 

Just before mom passed away Phoebe had been going to college to become an accountant. She also worked nights as a stripper. She also berated me for receiving welfare, even though both Lewis and I worked, we did not bring in enough to support five children so yes, we drew welfare and food stamps. She hated any appearance of poverty,, was ashamed to admit she came from poverty and ashamed to admit her family lived in poverty. She knew of the abuse, just not how bad it had gotten. I was forced to listen to her berating conversation any time I reached out to her to try to have some form of relationship with my sister. Over time though our conversations became fewer and farther between.

If I could pull old Yahoo messenger logs, the night I finally left Lewis OMFG the rant she went on after telling me that if I ever left him she would help me. She ranted about how I was receiving SSI and wanted to know where all that money went because I was asking her for some money to cover the hotel a friend put me in for one night. At the time I was NOT receiving SSI, nor had I ever even applied for it, so I had no income. Phoebe could not accept this truth at all and was convinced in her mind that I was getting SSI and blew it somehow and kept demanding to know where the money went. This conversation was in all caps on her end I finally had to block her because I could not handle trying to convince her I had no income while I was coping with escaping a VERY violent relationship right after Lewis had tried to kill me and I knew he was looking for me.

Now, she looks down on me because I do receive SSI, even though I did fight for my SSDI. Apparently I did not get enough quarters in succession to qualify for it. Phoebe fails to accept that the abusive relationship kept me from working any job for very long. I got my Associates in the Arts in 1999, she refused to even come to graduation. The one thing Phoebe refuses to even see is that there was ZERO abuse until she and Brandi cooked up this plan to get CPS to take Brandi and place her with mom. The two of them torpedoed a wonderful marriage with false accusations. I am permanently disabled now because of the things Lewis did to me and it hurts that my own sister cannot admit her part in that.

Phoebe does not care who she hurts for her own personal satisfaction. Recently I listened to her go off on tangents after asking her a VERY simple thing. I have been in contact with my biological father and had requested some pictures from the family album. I did not ask for originals, just simply scan a few in and email them. Phoebe tried to emotionally blackmail me for the pictures and ended up not sending any. 

I represent everything she hates. I get a government check that she feels I do not deserve. Even though I own my own land, my lifestyle is not approved by her, not that it actually needs to be, but she hates that I scratch out a low income living out here on my own. She forgets that when I left Lewis she had offered to help me get an apartment and on my feet, then went back on that to go off on a tangent about income she thought I had but in reality didn't. That same conversation is when she accused me of forcing mom into the hospital and kidnapping her. I suppose it may have felt that way to a middle school kid, but she wasn't really old enough to grasp the reality of the help mom needed at the time. 

 Phoebe kept taking the conversation off course and making it about all the things she thought were true, but refused to accept that they aren't and refused to keep on track. All I wanted was a few photos to send to my biological father, not a hard conversation. For her though it was an opportunity to voice so many untrue beliefs and refuse to even fact check them. She refuses to see that not once did I ever touch mom's money. When mom got sick it was Carol who used mom's money to make sure the rent was paid, utilities were paid, groceries were bought NOT me. I lived 90 miles away,  Carol was at mom's daily while mom was sick and Phoebe simply cannot admit this. 

 

The only one that has ever been obsessed with money is Phoebe, she even went to college to be an accountant who handles other people's money.

 

I think Phoebe is showing early signs of the same mental issues mom had. It is genetic and is handed down in our genetic make up. However, Phoebe got a double dose since dad was forcibly admitted to a mental facility. Since he is not my biological father, I had a genetic work up done and I do not carry the gene that made mom sick. Phoebe's behavior and false beliefs are similar to the early signs mom displayed before she went into her deep depression. 

You cannot imagine how hard it is for me to see this happen three times to people I love. I watched my dad get taken away by the police, to a hospital where he was so heavily medicated he didn't even recognize mom. I watched mom go into a false reality for years before she died and I listened to her stories to make sure that one day I can write them down for her. I later learned many of the stories are true though...... Now I see my baby sister displaying the same need to live in a false reality and sadly there is nothing I can do, nor am I sure I want to after the hell I have lived through because of her.

Wow, I can finally admit that I have been angry with her for the lie she and Brandi cooked up back in 1993. I often wonder what my life would be like now if that lie had never existed. Brandi was in a group home in 1997 when she admitted Phoebe made her do it. Even her therapist told me this. My life took a dark turn after that lie and Phoebe has zero remorse for doing it. Phoebe feels justified somehow and refuses to even apologize for it. 

Writing is most definitely therapeutic. I can finally let go of the hope that she will ever admit her part in the disaster she made of my marriage and my life, but most importantly the lives of my other five children. They did end up with a better life than I could have ever given them after the lie. But we will never know if their lives could have been good at home with their parents. That was taken from us. Due to the abuse I had to get the children out and turned them over to CPS myself after Lewis wanted to commit murder suicide. In 2003 I tricked him into signing papers that terminated our parental rights and allowed all five to be adopted by an amazing couple. I will be forever grateful to Carol and Jerry Pace for adopting them. 

I am not bitter about not being able to be a mother to my children. I am not bitter about my marriage falling apart. That lie revealed the true monster that Lewis was. Although my path has been difficult, it has made me the strong person I am today. 

I will pray that my sister's eyes are opened and she finds forgiveness within herself for the things she has done. She is my sister and I will always love her, but I do not have to endure the verbal assaults and false beliefs she refuses to see are false. When she comes to me sincerely, my heart and door will be open. Until then, I pray that she finds truth, accepts it and gets some professional help to understand it all.

Phew, I will likely pen more on this issue but I have to get some yard work done today. It will never get done if I don't get off the laptop for a while :)