When it rains...

You get a little complacent when things go well - not perfect, not even close but well. We see the signs, the cracks, the theoretical nightmares but we pray each time that this time will be different. My sister can live in scenarios we could not even ponder but she does. Her friends are addicts, other people struggling with mental illness - they are odd and out of place. My family always feels a little uncomfortable around them because she lacks the ability to be discerning. She always says, "Oh my God, I have never met anyone like them. They are seriously so cool and really nice". It's like a giant gong in my ear when I hear it. A warning gong. Sometimes they are the nicest, coolest people. There have been some. They never last. They see her easily, they want to help her, they usually smother her. We want to warn them but we just smile. We close our eyes and bite our tongues when we get the fresh newcomer who says, "she just needs a little love and care". We nod. Of course she does. We are not morons. We know that the girl needs some love and care. We know she needs money too. She needs someone to talk her down when she is panicked so she won't cut or use or worst case scenario try to kill herself. We know that love and care are easily mis-represented by her as an open door. The boundaries blur. The rules, the code of a family living with an addict start to sway. We know. We know that in an attempt to have some small power in her life she will fight you over the smallest thing and make the biggest deal over nothing. We know it will eat her when you gently remind her that there are some things she just can't do. We know. I'll tell you what else we know - we know when she has met someone just like her. We know that the clock starts to tick right away in how long before the whole thing explodes. It is inevitable because despite her flaws, my sister is strong and she doesn't like to take any crap. It is the only thing we cling to knowing no matter what happens she will fight to the death. So believe me, we are glad when our fighter thats he is took an incredible hit and came back from it - her latest room mate, her addicted friend who wanted to walk through recovery with her - stabbed her.

Yeah, she stabbed her.

When my phone rings at 5:30am, it is never good. I listened to her voice as she hysterically relayed the night's events to me. She said she was scared and alone. She said she was tired of doing this shit. She said she didn't want to do it anymore. For the first time in a long time I told her i would pick her up. She said she wasn't stitched up yet. She would call me when she was done. I waited for her to call. She didn't. She called my husband later that night and said she had gone back to the apartment and then her room mate showed up so she called the police again and they escorted her out because her name was not on the lease. We told her not to put her name on the lease in case anything happened, she wouldn't be responsible. AS it turns out, ti also means the police can escort you without any of your things as the person who stabbed you watches all smug as you leave. She can never win. How can these things keep happening to her unatoned for? But of course, it is an easy answer - she's an addict. She has mental illness. She is barely a human being anymore. And she is so aware of this.

Here's the catch. I didn't try to call her back. I waited all day for her to call me and she didn't. It was like my get out of jail free card. I planned all day what I would do with her son, with my kids so she could stay with me. I didn't - couldn't - let them see her that way. I begged and I pleaded with God to just make it right this one time. Give me some strength to be there for her. I've gotten so cold with her - expect these terrible things to happen to her that I can no longer see the significance of the situations. Someone fucking stabbed my sister. Think about that. What would you do if someone stabbed someone you loved? Would you cry? Would you get in your car? Would you seek justice or make a million phone calls until someone noticed and gave a shit? You would. Everyone would. I stayed home and crawled under my covers and stayed there all day. I didn't cry. I didn't phone. I didn't do anything. I thought to myself that if she called I would spring into action. I would do right by her this time. I kept the phone by my bed. I waited. I was relieved when she called my husband and said she had somewhere to stay and was looking into a residential program to stay in. She is so smart that way, my sister. She can make impossible things happen just when you thought she had burned her last bridge. She was not this amazing when she just had to call us and we came running. And we did. And now we don't. I don't.

But something funny happens when I shirk my duty to my sister to someone else. I can justify it ten ways to Tuesday and everyone supports me. But the funny thing is I start to fall. It is as if I can feel her pain, sweating it out of every pore. I can't get myself out of bed. I can't smile. I see no joy in anything. I cry in between every visit at work. I lose interest in clients and I don't call them back. I can't wait to get home and do nothing. I waste my life - my practically perfect life. I don't want it anymore. All the colors fade, the sun never shines as brightly and if it does, I feel uncomfortable and unworthy. It is like her disease chase me down and pins me to the ground and asks me "How do you like it?". I feel her. I ooze her - bloody, pussy ooze. We are dying together.

Why don't I go to her then? Why don't I embrace her and give her the love and care that even virtual strangers know she needs so desperately? When I have her, why can't I enjoy her? Take delight in her? Why do I feel so venomous around her - so distant and cold? I know that if I let anything in - if I feel one tiny bit, just one little thing - it will overwhelm me. It eats me from the inside out. That voice - that hysterical voice telling me she got stabbed - it got me. I felt the stab of feeling. I felt it just a tiniest bit. It wiggled into me like a hook worm before I even knew it was there. Microscopic. It festered and grew and it started to consume me. The tiniest feeling of regret and guilt and pain - it started to devoured me. I have worked so hard to feel nothing. I simply cannot afford that luxury. And even with that one tiny bit I can feel it suffocating everything that matters. Nothing matters while she is sick and unloved and uncared for. And I hold my breath and I hope that someone, some unsuspecting someone will come along and fill in for me - fill her up just a tiny bit and make her feel worthy. Because I am no longer capable. I am useless to her and now to me.

I want to know - how can someone stab your sister while you stay home and curl up in your bed? I feel vile and despicable. But I know the consequences of letting her back in my life. I am unable to keep her out. When she is in, there is no one else. I would do this - I have done this, hoping she would get better. But she doesn't. She just devours me and everything in my life. She doesn't even know it. We love her too much. And from hr point of view, it looks like we do not love her at all.