Lost

It's so strange. I felt so settled yesterday. And here I am today, back where I started.

-

I moved out of my apartment yesterday. I was moving on autopilot the entire time. Get the U-haul, pack my things into it, drive, unpack, drive, pack, drive, unpack, drive.

It didn't stop, and the tears started flowing.

It was on my final trip to my mom's house, which is now my home again. I had my car packed up and my cat beside me, ready to get the hell out of that place and finally feel okay again. It was then my body gave out on me. I had three panic attacks on the way. For once I was crying more than my cat on a car ride.

It hit me all at once. The possibility of losing the relationship with my sister, going back to where I started, having to rely on someone just to scrape by. In that moment, my body finally felt. It released all of the pent up emotion I had been storing, cascading violently over my being.

But once I had finished crying and had started to settle in at my new, old place, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me. I finally thought that I was safe and I could start being content. I had a chat with my cousin, which was extremely therapeutic. Even hearing their voice and the thoughts that they share brighten my day exponentially.

Though I couldn't sleep.

Some part of me knew that when I woke it would all be different. I would liken to the fact that I was still the same person, that I had not yet escaped the confines of my mind.

It is persistent. Lulling me with a false sense of calm then kicking the ever-loving shit out of me. I can't catch a moment's peace. I can't eat without feeling sick. The thought of going to work tomorrow harrows me.

Nothing has changed, except everything has. I feel that I have lost one more person in this world that I thought would always be there for me. Only to realize that she is but another fleeting relationship in the sea of many. With time, I will see what reveals itself. But for now, I am gutted.

-

I have always relied on my sister. We can confide anything with one another, or so I thought. Living with her made me feel closer to her even though we had never been farther away. I could feel her disdain for me, imagined or not, which caused underlying tension.

I always feel that I'm not good enough for her to share her true thoughts with. She has not opened up to me genuinely in years, I can't even remember the last time I knew the inner workings of her mind, if ever. I guess she doesn't trust me in the same way I trust her. She will not show vulnerability for me to connect with.

I had hoped living with her would bring us closer, but it has only driven us apart. Miscommunications and a plethora of shitty situations are now standing between us. I couldn't force myself to say to her, I don't want this to cause a rift between us, I just couldn't. It's because I honestly couldn't tell if she even cared.

She has become so skilled at hiding her emotions, that it appears she doesn't have any at all. For fuck's sake, she was moving her stuff into my room at the same time I was moving my belongings out. Her boyfriend waiting in the parking lot for me to leave so he could come in and take my place. Perhaps he was there to comfort her, in which case, I would be grateful. But that's what we're supposed to do for each other. When did I become so easily replaceable?

Thoughts like this ruminate and create resentment. I know that distance should fix us, but this time it's different. The longer we let unspoken words pass between us, the more doomed our future. We're letting animosity grow in the place of love, a fickle thorn uneasy to remove.

I can't help but blame myself.

Why did I make the rash decision to move out of my mom's in the first place? Why didn't I take the time to evaluate my circumstance thoroughly before jumping head first?

There's no point dwelling on it now, but I can't stop. I'm looking for somewhere to place the blame and I find it much easier to demonize myself.

-

While I love my sister, I don't. She's too guarded for me to get to know. I've known her my entire life and still have no fucking clue who she is. I know superficial things, that she loves her cats, adores Harry Potter, and likes being in the warm sun. Besides that, what are her passions? What does she crave most in this world? What does she wish to discover about herself?

I've tried many times to get her to talk about these things, with no success. I've asked her personal questions in regards to career, vague questions about her thoughts on life, fears and failures that haunt her. She told me there was nothing. That she's happy where she is and there's nothing more she wishes for.

I call bullshit.

Maybe I'm not one who's quick to accept happiness, but I know for a fact that she wishes for more. I don't see the point in lying about it, especially to herself.

She frustrates me. She acts composed all the time yet persistently worn out and like she's balancing the weight of the world. She doesn't accept help and is stubborn in her ways. If you are not willing to conform around her needs, she will weave her way around you. Completely lacking remorse and cutting you out of her inner circle.

There is a steep fall from such a high horse. I wish that she would come back down to meet me.

As is life, I suppose. If she doesn't want me that close to her, I will keep my distance. Deprive myself of the comfort I haven't felt from her since childhood. And even then it seemed she was above me. Forging her own way while I was left in the dust.

I wish I could have an honest conversation with her about all this. The way that I've felt for a long time around her. That I don't feel comfortable with the person I am around her. That she makes me feel small and worthless with a mere glance.

Surely she knows, right? How could she not? Why else would I never share my day with her and only ask about hers? Why would I minimize all of my experiences and re-tell old ones to see if she would finally give me the response I'm looking for?

She must think me hopeless. A lost cause not worth wasting time on.

But there are times I think differently. When she helped me pay for my cat's vet bill. When she hugged me as I cried about our father. Those are times I felt she cared, even if it felt clinical, that she was obliged by some duty.

I suppose all that I can hope for her is that she opens herself up in this world. If not with me then I hope her boyfriend is able to find her spark and bring her joy. I am apparently not cut out for it, so I must make my peace. If this is the way things must go, then it shall. I will no longer stand in the background and wait for her to take notice of me.

I must move on from this dreadful hope that keeps me pinned in place. If she ever decides she needs me, she can be the one who reaches out. I am tired of feeling the obligation to smooth things over and balance every bit of turbulence. I am sick of damage control and fake smiles and meaningless apologies.

What I've been shown is that she does not care. I hope that I can find it within myself to stop giving her the benefit of the doubt. It's tumultuous to go back and forth between feeling okay then our relationship becoming absolutely shattered. It's like a wooden roller coaster at the fair: rickety, unenjoyable, and cannot end soon enough. The ups and downs are enough to make me feel physically ill.

So I say to myself sternly: do not empathize so deeply, do not trust implicitly, do not let wayward hope lead you astray. If I do, I will be right back where I started, looped back into mind games and feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I must prioritize my own well being instead of bending over backwards in the guessing game of her heart's desires.

She is a loose cannon, but I have trained myself not to see it. She is unsettled and frankly, toxic. I hate saying these cruel words, I absolutely detest it, but I need to hear it. I need to think without personal bias and take off my rose-coloured glasses. Things haven't been okay for a while, and at least one of us needs to acknowledge it.

Sitting down with her, I know that she would dissuade me from this thinking. But I just want her to listen to my perspective. Understand that, even unwittingly, her words and actions have caused me to harbour these feelings. I don't want her to get that closed off look on her face and talk to me in that cold tone of hers. I do not want to feel abysmal in her presence when I am simply trying to communicate.

Perhaps one day, things will go as I want them to. We will talk with no barriers between us and appreciate each other for who we are, not who we think the other should be. I cling to this desperately, because losing her entirely would sever my heart in seven.

I can already feel the cracks forming now.

Please tell me it's not too late?