the crux of it all
Don't know what I want to say about Christmas. It happened, it's over, parts were lovely, and others were hard. I've been a bit of an emotional basket case, hence my quietness around these LJ parts. Time aside, I just haven't had the energy to write and try to express what has been going through my head.
Last night I decided to go to a Christmas Eve service with A. -- my first since at least the age of 13 or so. The plan was to enjoy the singing and the candles more than anything else, as neither one of us are exactly church-going types (not even close). We walked to a small church around the corner from my house, but I didn't even make it through half of the service before nearly collapsing during a particularly long standing-up Christmas hymn. It was a combination of exhaustion and emotion, but it was enough that I couldn't make it to the end, and came home. I'd like to say that I slept after that, but it was fitful at best, and only after literally crying myself to sleep.
There have been a lot of tears these past few days. Mostly furtive, when I have been able to find a moment alone. A few with my mother. My sister was not with us this Christmas, for the first time in many years, and I acutely missed her. My missing, however, was not just that she's not here, but also about a widening gulf between us that I've not been able to overcome. I want to find the words to do so, but can't because those words seem to be bound up in this murky past that I have not been able to even begin to face in my life until the past year or so. She's spent years confronting it, years that she needed me and I wasn't there for her. I wasn't there because I couldn't even begin to face things and so I hid within the safety and denial of my emotionless marriage. Now, everything is becoming laid bare for me, and still neither of us is able to have the necessary conversation with each other. But, especially, it has been me. The words seem caught up inside, along with so many others. Last night she sent me an email. I read it before going to the Christmas eve service -- or I should say, I read as much as I could before I had to put it away until the middle of the night, when I knew I could be alone with it. And then I had to cry. And still I am. But it does feel like faint glimmerings of movement, I hope.
...i do have a request of a christmas gift from you.
really all i want is some more communication.
what if we just agreed to email eachother once a week?
i know you are depressed and have a lot on your plate, but i really dont want you and me to end up like aunt kathy and mom or dad and uncle bob. not talking. carrying resentment. angry.
as sisters i think we each have a unique view into the other.nobody could ever replace you in my life.
i dont know exactly what you are going through with your remembering of molestation. i am sure it is hard and awful. that is how it was for me. it was a terrible process for me, and you could not even begin to deal with it when i was in the middle of it. please xcuse me if i am not enthusastic to rip open that scab.
but i do want to be here for you in whatever capacity i can.
i love you.
you are my big sister. the person i always wanted to be growing up. i am proud of who you are and the things you have done. i hope you feel the same way about me.
Last night I decided to go to a Christmas Eve service with A. -- my first since at least the age of 13 or so. The plan was to enjoy the singing and the candles more than anything else, as neither one of us are exactly church-going types (not even close). We walked to a small church around the corner from my house, but I didn't even make it through half of the service before nearly collapsing during a particularly long standing-up Christmas hymn. It was a combination of exhaustion and emotion, but it was enough that I couldn't make it to the end, and came home. I'd like to say that I slept after that, but it was fitful at best, and only after literally crying myself to sleep.
There have been a lot of tears these past few days. Mostly furtive, when I have been able to find a moment alone. A few with my mother. My sister was not with us this Christmas, for the first time in many years, and I acutely missed her. My missing, however, was not just that she's not here, but also about a widening gulf between us that I've not been able to overcome. I want to find the words to do so, but can't because those words seem to be bound up in this murky past that I have not been able to even begin to face in my life until the past year or so. She's spent years confronting it, years that she needed me and I wasn't there for her. I wasn't there because I couldn't even begin to face things and so I hid within the safety and denial of my emotionless marriage. Now, everything is becoming laid bare for me, and still neither of us is able to have the necessary conversation with each other. But, especially, it has been me. The words seem caught up inside, along with so many others. Last night she sent me an email. I read it before going to the Christmas eve service -- or I should say, I read as much as I could before I had to put it away until the middle of the night, when I knew I could be alone with it. And then I had to cry. And still I am. But it does feel like faint glimmerings of movement, I hope.
...i do have a request of a christmas gift from you.
really all i want is some more communication.
what if we just agreed to email eachother once a week?
i know you are depressed and have a lot on your plate, but i really dont want you and me to end up like aunt kathy and mom or dad and uncle bob. not talking. carrying resentment. angry.
as sisters i think we each have a unique view into the other.nobody could ever replace you in my life.
i dont know exactly what you are going through with your remembering of molestation. i am sure it is hard and awful. that is how it was for me. it was a terrible process for me, and you could not even begin to deal with it when i was in the middle of it. please xcuse me if i am not enthusastic to rip open that scab.
but i do want to be here for you in whatever capacity i can.
i love you.
you are my big sister. the person i always wanted to be growing up. i am proud of who you are and the things you have done. i hope you feel the same way about me.