New beginnings

I started my new job today. I did not take this job before because I was afraid it would be too much to handle my sister and a REAL job. I say real job because I have been working part time for over a year just in case something happened with my sister  - I could just go. I had a very sympathetic team at work who helped me re-arrange my schedule time and time again to answer the phone calls, to show up in court, to walk the halls of the hospital.

I turned down 4 jobs before this one. I just couldn't move forward without her.

But I started a new job and the sky didn't fall down. I am having such a hard time living a normal life without my sister. I read a new case file today and it was almost nearly the story of my sister. My experienced social worker persona completely folded. I am pretty sure all my colleagues think I have Bulima or Colitis because I spent a great part of my day in the bathroom today. I just couldn't stop crying when I read that file. I was so embarrassed but I honestly didn't care. I couldn't stop the tears. I didn't want to. 

I cried because the new program I am in is designed to help families and supports gather together and rally around families with crisis - mostly families with mental illness. It is designed to get the system to help those affected, especially the children, instead of alienating them. It is a new program, it is a beautiful program. And I think this program would have changed my sister's life. Why didn't I know about it then? Why didn't anyone refer us? I am a social worker and I did not know about it. I wish our friends and family had been in this program to understand what was happening to all of us, to support us, instead of running scared from something they did not understand. I shed a million tears today thinking I am so grateful that someone is going to get this help. But I am so devestated that it did not come in time for my sister, for my family. I had this vision of all of us in a room together talking about how we could support her, showing her our love and committing to action something on her behalf. It has been instead anger and pain so often bestowed upon her - often on my behalf. Our meetings are confrontational and leaving her without power or dignity. They always seem to leave her smaller and with less and less to leave with. It is no coicendence that her material possessions are so minal - it mirrors what she feels about herself. And of everyone she loves, I leave her the most wounded. When I am kind, she says she doesn't deserve it. When I am angry or mean, she wonders aloud who the hell I have become? How can I tell her that I am getting paid now to do for other people exactly what I could not do for her? Oh the irony...

She is well this week. My mom keeps me updated. She is attending mental health classes and waiting for her spot in a rehab clinic to come up. That is 3 weeks away. She has not called me. She will not call me. She is angry and defeated by me. She told my husband that she understands but that her heart is breaking - breaking because of me. I can have no contact with her right now because living in limbo is better than living in sorrow. I can't function with so much sorrow. Neither can she. And when we speak, it drips out of our mouths and reduces us to nothing. And today I won't do that to her or to me. But I want her to know that I am going to work hard at my job and do the best I can. I want her to know that I will take every moment of these experiences between us and apply them to every moment of my work - I will respect people I may have otherwise found useless. I will teach other families how to be patient and kind. I will listen. It is so much easier to do when you can close a file and go home every day.