Dammit, I knew (kinda of) this would happen, part II
I have been given permission. If my sister have to choose between her marriage and her son, it will be the latter and she's given me permission to remind her to choose her son over her husband.
To my brother-in-law's credit, he is trying. Maybe not 110%, but he's making a concerted effort to be there for his son. I'm still uber pissed at him. Why does it fall on my sister to take care of everybody? Why is it on my sister to keep her husband calm when he's agitating for a fight? Over the weekend my sister asked me for my support and I joined her and her fracturing family in a neutral setting, the home of their mutual friend, Jeff and Nell. Jeff told my brother-in-law to step it up, that he has to be there for his son. I wondered if it included not drinking. I slept in the clothes I came in and kept to myself the biological inconvenience of being on my period, not just during my period but on the worst day of the period. You know what I'm talking about, that second or third day when you wonder why are you still alive from the massive blood loss and at the same time wishing you were dead from the massive bodily cramp.
For the most part my job was to listen to my sister and when I wasn't doing that, I was looking after my niece. I took her to meet her friend at a fall festival and then took them both to their softball game. Half way through their game I left to get some McDonald French fries for them. I helped around the farm and winery as I usually do, trying to take as much labor as I could away from my sister and her kids. I reiterated again and again that my apartment is open to her and her children. If she needs a week long break, my home is her home. If her kids need a break from the farm and their parents, my home is their home. I try to offer everything that the adults in my childhood never offered to me, which is an alternative to the parental house.
Bree kept apologizing for crying so much and I try to tell her over and over again to not torture herself for her feelings. Think about your stew of anger and sadness the same way you think of any other impulses. When you get hungry, you don’t say to yourself “No, stomach, eating food is stupid and wrong”, because you’ll starve, so you eat something. When you get tired, you don’t say “No, brain, going to sleep is stupid and wrong” because sleep deprivation is freaking terrible, so you go to sleep. Hell, when you have to pee, you don’t say “Shut up, bladder, go sit in the corner and don’t come out until you’re sorry” because exploding kidneys are bad, so you pee. You need to eat, you need to sleep, you need to pee, and sometimes you need to hurt.