Anger
From the moment we arrived, it was as though my sister was going to do everything she could to make me angry. I was not going to give her the pleasure of pressing my buttons. My sister's lies, games and schemes have permeated every aspect of my life for as long as I can remember. But this time, she really outdid herself.
When we arrived, the garage looked as though it had been staged; large items were placed in a completely illogical manner so as to block the path she knew we would take to enter the house. Either she was very clever or is incable of creating order. My mother, my brother and I love to be organized. Could she have missed out on that gene or was she as devious as I suspect?
In the center, an empty large shelving unit, pulled out from its place, to provide access to her snow tires. That's all that is stored there. It's August! Surrounding that shelving unit, nearly touching it on all sides, other items were placed in such a way that they couldn't have passed through the garage either. What on earth could be the point but, based on her previous patterns, the reason had to be just to mess with us.
More of the same inside the house too. Still, I was NOT going to let her get under my skin. I moved what I needed to move to walk in. Yes, walk, never mind wheel in my carry-on size wheeled case. Not enough of a pathway for that little thing.
No, that was nothing upsetting. There were three main reasons for our trip to the house: to check on her "progress" and to put a little pressure on her progress, to arrange for more things to be hauled away as well as take a few outdoor gardening items home, and to meet with a realtor. I asked my sister to choose a realtor since she would have the most dealings with her. Yes, her. I knew my sister would choose a woman; she hates men. I have to wonder if it's not mutual. In a few cases, I know this to be true.
Before the meeting my sister again gave me several reasons why the meeting should be held in our mother's basement suite. Remember, it was so full of her things I couldn't walk through with my case! Her belongings were scattered all around the living room and I even had to clear off the loveseat for somewhere to sit. There is also an upholstered rocker and a dining room chair from upstairs. My mother's house was perfect for my sister to live upstairs with her three daughters but my mother lived in the dimly lit basement suite of her own beautiful home, in so tiny a space her own furniture would not fit; it was all upstairs. My sister has lived for nearly 10 years with my mother's leather sofa, loveseat and chair as well as the massive dining room suite with tall backed chairs, and buffet and hutch. Since May of 2005, she has lived rent free. I digress.
Six texts later, she still could or would not understand the word "no" and kept suggesting we have the meeting downstairs. She had sprayed chemicals right outside the door to the suite and she didn't want my sensitivity to chemicals to bother me. My super sensitivity to chemicals also means that if she had indeed sprayed so close to where I was, I would have smelled them. Nothing. She had not sprayed what she said she sprayed, or where she said she sprayed. Another lie.
Our daughter was helping us and was to spend the evening with us afterwards, so she was here. Two of my sister's daughters would also attend. Add one realtor for a total of seven people. She expected us to cram into a tiny crowded suite with barely enough seating for me, my husband and our daughter. Minutes before the realtor arrived, she phoned to say she would bring down more dining room chairs for the meeting--still refusing to take no for and anser. The chairs are huge and there literally would not have been enough space for them. It was then that I realized her true motivation! She did not want me to come upstairs.
For some reasons unknown to me, I have been barred from her part of the house. When I lived with Mom when she first got cancer, my sister did not hesitate to ask me to do her grocery shopping for her, but if I started to bring them upstairs for her, she ran from the back of the house to stop me dead in my tracks. I was to leave the groceries there. During her cancer treatments, Mom was very cold and could never stay warm. She asked me to sew her some thick fleece pajamas but there was nowhere to cut the fabric in her suite. I asked to use the dining room table so I wouldn't have to do it on the floor. No. That would not be permitted. Mom's suite didn't have enough floor space for me to lay out the fabric so I asked to borrow her ironing board. I used it and Mom's ironing board to make a "table" or sorts, and a very poor one at that.
The most infuriating thing is, when other people were in the house, in front of them, she would ask me why I didn't come upstairs to join them, as if that was the norm. In other words, she would put on her fake happy mask when we were in view of the public; in private, it was a different matter. Even my brother had no idea that I was barred from upstairs, as he was able to move freely up and down the stairs any time. This always gave the appearance that I was the miserable trouble-making problem in the family!
That was one of the main factors when I cut off contact with my sister around 1990 when I was so upset by something she did on Christmas Day. Everyone in the family blamed me for reacting badly but she was never blamed for her part--the cause of the problem. I ended up spending Christmas day alone, crying. My husband took our young children to see the rest of the family. I wrote a letter to each family member; my brother and father phoned me immediately after reading the letter. My mother and sister never called or wrote me--for two years.
It was very important to me that my children know their grandparents and I missed my mother terribly so I resumed contact with my mother and just barely with my sister, and only because, after her divorce, my parents evicted one of their tenants so she could live next door; my parents cared for her children while she went to school so she could support her two daughters. They become fully engulfed in her life; I lost my parents to her. Anyway, I digress again, but you see, there is a long history of difficulty.
During the meeting with the realtor I thought my head would explode and was certain steam was coming out of my ears.
My sister refused to sign a listing agreement for the sale of the house, saying she would not be ready until September. She blatantly lied to my face, but clearly for the benefit of the realtor, saying that our brother and I had "left her to deal with ALL the work alone". What absolute BULLSHIT!!! Again, I referred to my email where I mentioned signing a listing agreement that night, working on clearing out more junk, having it hauled away and taking some ourselves, that we brought the truck for that reason.
Probate was approved on August 10, 2012, two months later than what the lawyer told us to expect. The meeting with the realtor was on August 18th. Perfect timing, I said in my email, to sign a listing agreement and get the house on the market while it was still summer.
My sister has been telling lies about me, our mother, our father, and who knows what else for decades, but this was the first time she lied to me, about me, and in front of a stranger. I was livid! I saw red, my eyes were blazing, my heart was pounding, and I wanted to scream and slap her face! No. I have no idea how, but I remained calm, never raised my voice and spoke on my and my brother's defence. I listed the 17 days our brother and I worked in January, the days he worked alone before I arrived with our pickup truck. Apart from the five full loads to the dump, we donated, we recycled, we took thank you gifts to the Palliative Care Unit staff. We did it in snow, rain and wind in January. In 17 days, she spent less than 15 minutes helping. Maybe less than 10 minutes.
My brother and I worked in blowing snow and rain, in howling winds, to empty the basement suite and reorganize the garage. My sister and neices complained that having the garage open caused their thermostat to overheat their home. Did they expect sympathy? My sister phoned to ask us to take out the garbage--her daughters' job. My sister phoned to ask us to shovel the walkways--her daughters' job. Seriously, had I taken those calls, I would have said no but my brother took the call and did their jobs for them.
This is what she does best! She weaves a woeful tale, describes the hardships of her life of a single parent with a special needs child. I used to be one of the believers. I used to care. I used to help. I used to want to care and help. Those days are finished. Sadly, my brother would always cave in, making me even more angry. My family always catered to my sister, long before she was the single mother of a specials needs child. I alway said that she gave birth to her very own Golden Ticket.
I am so fed up, my blood is boiling. She has played everyone her whole life, and her daughters have continued that tradition. I hope to never lay eyes on them ever again. I'm so done. I don't even want to return to this house, now partly mine. She has gone too far too many times, with the lies, manipuation, the abuse, always trying to control everything, and with a sense of entitlement that the world owes her a favour.
It was my mother's express with that the house be sold immediately upon her death. I told my mother that my sister would have a laundry list of reasons why the sale would have to be delayed, but she was always in denial about her precious daughter. Unfortunately, I was proven correct yet again.
While we slaved away for those 17 days together, my sister and neices complained that having the garage door open caused their thermostat to keep cranking up the heat in their home. Did they expect sympathy? My sister phoned to ask us to take out the garbage--her daughters' job. My sister phoned to ask us to shovel the walkways--her daughters' job. Seriously, had I taken those calls, I would have said no but my brother took the call and did their jobs.
My brother and I waited for my sister to "come help" as promised but neglected to tell us she was entertaining friends that night. Had she ever intend to keep her promise? We were forbidden to proceed until she came to approve what we had done but she never came. For two days we waited, unable to proceed. Finally, I informed her that it was costly both personally and financially for us to be away from our homes and families to sit and wait, and that we were going to have to deal with our mother's possessions. She came to inspect our work. For less than five minutes. Long after I had wanted to go to bed.
I returned in February and worked, mostly alone. Again, she did not help, nor did her two adult daughters. My daughter gave up an entire day to help me.
How dare she tell the realtor that we have not been helping!?
It takes me about four hours to drive here. In March, I drove for six hours in a snowstorm to keep a promise to my brother who had arranged for some of my mother's furniture to be shipped to him in Ontario. He did not trust our sister to ensure all his goods would be loaded and asked me to personally supervise. While I was here for a few days, I continued to chip away at everything piled in the garage.
To hear my sister tell the tale, she alone cared for our mother and her special needs daugther. The truth is that I moved in with my mother for nine months to care for her while I avoided my sister as much as possible. My sister bullied my mother so much over the years that she did whatever my sister told her to do. My sister had her convinced that she "needed" my sister's help so she did not want to risk angering my sister. I was so frustrated and angry but that only upset my mother, causing her shingles pain to flare up. I had to stifle my anger and comments. The result was a case of psoriasis. That was one of many steps on a downward journey into losing my good health. It is the reason I have not been here to help as much but, honestly, when I am here, she does not cooperate. More stress, worse health.
My sister always keeps me waiting for her approval and never delegates; her grown daughters are "not to help" since she does not believe it is their responsibility. Bullshit! They are gainfully employed adults who took advantage of the generosity of their grandmother!
My brother is self employed, has a wife and three children. If he does not work, he has no income. He spent a fortune last year to fly back and forth to be with Mom, his wife and kids came twice, to see their Grandma and to attend her funeral. Renting a vehicle in Vancouver is expensive; a minivan is very expensive. No income and plenty of expenses equals financial pressure.
I might not have a job but my time is also valuable. Of the last three years, I have been away from home about half the time, at no small cost to my marriage, home life and health. I am so unwell that I had to give up driving. Lionel has been my chauffeur for much of two years; the rest of the time I just stay home. It used to be that my skin was too painful to sit in the car but now my fatigue is so severe that I cannot drive somewhere, do what I need to do and then drive home. The worst days are filled with pain and fatigue, and let's not forget, depression.
My sister ignores the fact that our mother's instructions were to sell the house as soon as she died. My sister has always gotten her own way, especially when my mother had any say. My sister would probably try to live live here indefinitely at my brother's and my expense if she could get away with it. Why grow up and live independently after all these years? She moved from our parents' home to her husband's, then back to her parents' home when she divorced. My mother built a trap from which she could not escape. By aiding her younger daughter to an extreme, she created an unhealthy and unbalanced codependent relationship. It became impossible to break that pattern but my sister's powers grew stronger with each passing year.
Then the source of her power died. All her power came from control of our mother. When she fully realized that she would have to move on, she grasped her crumbling sense of control even more tightly. My brother is such a sweet man; he believed her lies. He did not want to hear any gossip--but I waited for just the right moment to shed some light (about a million watts) on her numerous deceptions. He was so shocked and I was relieved he finally learned the truth!
He and I bonded deeply while working together in January and I did not want to lose a brother too after giving up my relationshp with my sister for more than a decade ago. Back then I enjoyed peace and happiness! Twice my mother was diagnosed with cancer; twice my sister was in my life again. These two events brought about my only grey hair.
Apart from my mother's bedroom furniture which my sister wants to keep, I have almost completely cleared out the entire suite, because I never want to go back. I'm finished. I'm done with all the lies.
When we arrived, the garage looked as though it had been staged; large items were placed in a completely illogical manner so as to block the path she knew we would take to enter the house. Either she was very clever or is incable of creating order. My mother, my brother and I love to be organized. Could she have missed out on that gene or was she as devious as I suspect?
In the center, an empty large shelving unit, pulled out from its place, to provide access to her snow tires. That's all that is stored there. It's August! Surrounding that shelving unit, nearly touching it on all sides, other items were placed in such a way that they couldn't have passed through the garage either. What on earth could be the point but, based on her previous patterns, the reason had to be just to mess with us.
More of the same inside the house too. Still, I was NOT going to let her get under my skin. I moved what I needed to move to walk in. Yes, walk, never mind wheel in my carry-on size wheeled case. Not enough of a pathway for that little thing.
No, that was nothing upsetting. There were three main reasons for our trip to the house: to check on her "progress" and to put a little pressure on her progress, to arrange for more things to be hauled away as well as take a few outdoor gardening items home, and to meet with a realtor. I asked my sister to choose a realtor since she would have the most dealings with her. Yes, her. I knew my sister would choose a woman; she hates men. I have to wonder if it's not mutual. In a few cases, I know this to be true.
Before the meeting my sister again gave me several reasons why the meeting should be held in our mother's basement suite. Remember, it was so full of her things I couldn't walk through with my case! Her belongings were scattered all around the living room and I even had to clear off the loveseat for somewhere to sit. There is also an upholstered rocker and a dining room chair from upstairs. My mother's house was perfect for my sister to live upstairs with her three daughters but my mother lived in the dimly lit basement suite of her own beautiful home, in so tiny a space her own furniture would not fit; it was all upstairs. My sister has lived for nearly 10 years with my mother's leather sofa, loveseat and chair as well as the massive dining room suite with tall backed chairs, and buffet and hutch. Since May of 2005, she has lived rent free. I digress.
Six texts later, she still could or would not understand the word "no" and kept suggesting we have the meeting downstairs. She had sprayed chemicals right outside the door to the suite and she didn't want my sensitivity to chemicals to bother me. My super sensitivity to chemicals also means that if she had indeed sprayed so close to where I was, I would have smelled them. Nothing. She had not sprayed what she said she sprayed, or where she said she sprayed. Another lie.
Our daughter was helping us and was to spend the evening with us afterwards, so she was here. Two of my sister's daughters would also attend. Add one realtor for a total of seven people. She expected us to cram into a tiny crowded suite with barely enough seating for me, my husband and our daughter. Minutes before the realtor arrived, she phoned to say she would bring down more dining room chairs for the meeting--still refusing to take no for and anser. The chairs are huge and there literally would not have been enough space for them. It was then that I realized her true motivation! She did not want me to come upstairs.
For some reasons unknown to me, I have been barred from her part of the house. When I lived with Mom when she first got cancer, my sister did not hesitate to ask me to do her grocery shopping for her, but if I started to bring them upstairs for her, she ran from the back of the house to stop me dead in my tracks. I was to leave the groceries there. During her cancer treatments, Mom was very cold and could never stay warm. She asked me to sew her some thick fleece pajamas but there was nowhere to cut the fabric in her suite. I asked to use the dining room table so I wouldn't have to do it on the floor. No. That would not be permitted. Mom's suite didn't have enough floor space for me to lay out the fabric so I asked to borrow her ironing board. I used it and Mom's ironing board to make a "table" or sorts, and a very poor one at that.
The most infuriating thing is, when other people were in the house, in front of them, she would ask me why I didn't come upstairs to join them, as if that was the norm. In other words, she would put on her fake happy mask when we were in view of the public; in private, it was a different matter. Even my brother had no idea that I was barred from upstairs, as he was able to move freely up and down the stairs any time. This always gave the appearance that I was the miserable trouble-making problem in the family!
That was one of the main factors when I cut off contact with my sister around 1990 when I was so upset by something she did on Christmas Day. Everyone in the family blamed me for reacting badly but she was never blamed for her part--the cause of the problem. I ended up spending Christmas day alone, crying. My husband took our young children to see the rest of the family. I wrote a letter to each family member; my brother and father phoned me immediately after reading the letter. My mother and sister never called or wrote me--for two years.
It was very important to me that my children know their grandparents and I missed my mother terribly so I resumed contact with my mother and just barely with my sister, and only because, after her divorce, my parents evicted one of their tenants so she could live next door; my parents cared for her children while she went to school so she could support her two daughters. They become fully engulfed in her life; I lost my parents to her. Anyway, I digress again, but you see, there is a long history of difficulty.
During the meeting with the realtor I thought my head would explode and was certain steam was coming out of my ears.
My sister refused to sign a listing agreement for the sale of the house, saying she would not be ready until September. She blatantly lied to my face, but clearly for the benefit of the realtor, saying that our brother and I had "left her to deal with ALL the work alone". What absolute BULLSHIT!!! Again, I referred to my email where I mentioned signing a listing agreement that night, working on clearing out more junk, having it hauled away and taking some ourselves, that we brought the truck for that reason.
Probate was approved on August 10, 2012, two months later than what the lawyer told us to expect. The meeting with the realtor was on August 18th. Perfect timing, I said in my email, to sign a listing agreement and get the house on the market while it was still summer.
My sister has been telling lies about me, our mother, our father, and who knows what else for decades, but this was the first time she lied to me, about me, and in front of a stranger. I was livid! I saw red, my eyes were blazing, my heart was pounding, and I wanted to scream and slap her face! No. I have no idea how, but I remained calm, never raised my voice and spoke on my and my brother's defence. I listed the 17 days our brother and I worked in January, the days he worked alone before I arrived with our pickup truck. Apart from the five full loads to the dump, we donated, we recycled, we took thank you gifts to the Palliative Care Unit staff. We did it in snow, rain and wind in January. In 17 days, she spent less than 15 minutes helping. Maybe less than 10 minutes.
My brother and I worked in blowing snow and rain, in howling winds, to empty the basement suite and reorganize the garage. My sister and neices complained that having the garage open caused their thermostat to overheat their home. Did they expect sympathy? My sister phoned to ask us to take out the garbage--her daughters' job. My sister phoned to ask us to shovel the walkways--her daughters' job. Seriously, had I taken those calls, I would have said no but my brother took the call and did their jobs for them.
This is what she does best! She weaves a woeful tale, describes the hardships of her life of a single parent with a special needs child. I used to be one of the believers. I used to care. I used to help. I used to want to care and help. Those days are finished. Sadly, my brother would always cave in, making me even more angry. My family always catered to my sister, long before she was the single mother of a specials needs child. I alway said that she gave birth to her very own Golden Ticket.
I am so fed up, my blood is boiling. She has played everyone her whole life, and her daughters have continued that tradition. I hope to never lay eyes on them ever again. I'm so done. I don't even want to return to this house, now partly mine. She has gone too far too many times, with the lies, manipuation, the abuse, always trying to control everything, and with a sense of entitlement that the world owes her a favour.
It was my mother's express with that the house be sold immediately upon her death. I told my mother that my sister would have a laundry list of reasons why the sale would have to be delayed, but she was always in denial about her precious daughter. Unfortunately, I was proven correct yet again.
While we slaved away for those 17 days together, my sister and neices complained that having the garage door open caused their thermostat to keep cranking up the heat in their home. Did they expect sympathy? My sister phoned to ask us to take out the garbage--her daughters' job. My sister phoned to ask us to shovel the walkways--her daughters' job. Seriously, had I taken those calls, I would have said no but my brother took the call and did their jobs.
My brother and I waited for my sister to "come help" as promised but neglected to tell us she was entertaining friends that night. Had she ever intend to keep her promise? We were forbidden to proceed until she came to approve what we had done but she never came. For two days we waited, unable to proceed. Finally, I informed her that it was costly both personally and financially for us to be away from our homes and families to sit and wait, and that we were going to have to deal with our mother's possessions. She came to inspect our work. For less than five minutes. Long after I had wanted to go to bed.
I returned in February and worked, mostly alone. Again, she did not help, nor did her two adult daughters. My daughter gave up an entire day to help me.
How dare she tell the realtor that we have not been helping!?
It takes me about four hours to drive here. In March, I drove for six hours in a snowstorm to keep a promise to my brother who had arranged for some of my mother's furniture to be shipped to him in Ontario. He did not trust our sister to ensure all his goods would be loaded and asked me to personally supervise. While I was here for a few days, I continued to chip away at everything piled in the garage.
To hear my sister tell the tale, she alone cared for our mother and her special needs daugther. The truth is that I moved in with my mother for nine months to care for her while I avoided my sister as much as possible. My sister bullied my mother so much over the years that she did whatever my sister told her to do. My sister had her convinced that she "needed" my sister's help so she did not want to risk angering my sister. I was so frustrated and angry but that only upset my mother, causing her shingles pain to flare up. I had to stifle my anger and comments. The result was a case of psoriasis. That was one of many steps on a downward journey into losing my good health. It is the reason I have not been here to help as much but, honestly, when I am here, she does not cooperate. More stress, worse health.
My sister always keeps me waiting for her approval and never delegates; her grown daughters are "not to help" since she does not believe it is their responsibility. Bullshit! They are gainfully employed adults who took advantage of the generosity of their grandmother!
My brother is self employed, has a wife and three children. If he does not work, he has no income. He spent a fortune last year to fly back and forth to be with Mom, his wife and kids came twice, to see their Grandma and to attend her funeral. Renting a vehicle in Vancouver is expensive; a minivan is very expensive. No income and plenty of expenses equals financial pressure.
I might not have a job but my time is also valuable. Of the last three years, I have been away from home about half the time, at no small cost to my marriage, home life and health. I am so unwell that I had to give up driving. Lionel has been my chauffeur for much of two years; the rest of the time I just stay home. It used to be that my skin was too painful to sit in the car but now my fatigue is so severe that I cannot drive somewhere, do what I need to do and then drive home. The worst days are filled with pain and fatigue, and let's not forget, depression.
My sister ignores the fact that our mother's instructions were to sell the house as soon as she died. My sister has always gotten her own way, especially when my mother had any say. My sister would probably try to live live here indefinitely at my brother's and my expense if she could get away with it. Why grow up and live independently after all these years? She moved from our parents' home to her husband's, then back to her parents' home when she divorced. My mother built a trap from which she could not escape. By aiding her younger daughter to an extreme, she created an unhealthy and unbalanced codependent relationship. It became impossible to break that pattern but my sister's powers grew stronger with each passing year.
Then the source of her power died. All her power came from control of our mother. When she fully realized that she would have to move on, she grasped her crumbling sense of control even more tightly. My brother is such a sweet man; he believed her lies. He did not want to hear any gossip--but I waited for just the right moment to shed some light (about a million watts) on her numerous deceptions. He was so shocked and I was relieved he finally learned the truth!
He and I bonded deeply while working together in January and I did not want to lose a brother too after giving up my relationshp with my sister for more than a decade ago. Back then I enjoyed peace and happiness! Twice my mother was diagnosed with cancer; twice my sister was in my life again. These two events brought about my only grey hair.
Apart from my mother's bedroom furniture which my sister wants to keep, I have almost completely cleared out the entire suite, because I never want to go back. I'm finished. I'm done with all the lies.