I lost my little sister

I don’t mean to say she died, it’d almost be easier for me if that were true.

In the theme of updating the journal with my life events, today we’ll talk briefly about my little sister.  Not really my little sister, that is to say, she is technically my cousin but for years we had a much closer and more familiar relationship.  It was she who first called herself my little sister, about 20 years ago, and for me it stuck.

For her … first she just stopped using that monicker.  It happened gradually, over the course of a few years (near the end), she became increasingly less comfortable with the title until I had to stop introducing her that way.

Then she stopped coming around much at all.

Like a lot of people in my life, she couldn’t deal with my mental illness.  When the bipolar got bad a few years ago she stopped responding to my messages on Facebook, stopped commenting on my entries, and started talking to me like all the people who believe depression is just about being sad and sufferers should just “toughen up”.  Her mother-in-law turned out to be bipolar as well and I should have recognized the attitude in the way she talked about the woman – no understanding, no consideration, just judgment.

Her mother-in-law and I became good online friends for a few years, in large part due to our mutual rejection by those around us.  We understood what each other were dealing with and it created a solid bond for a time.  She killed herself in January.  Turns out we had a lot in common but she was better at it.

I learned third-hand that I was invited to the funeral but none of them reached out to me directly – it was a very clear indication of how far apart we’ve become.  I didn’t go, it would have felt wrong standing beside all those people, who were always so judgmental and unforgiving of her, and pretending they mourned her loss.

It would be easier if my “little sister” had died, at least then I wouldn’t be constantly reminded of how I was no longer worthy of her love.  At least in her eyes and in this case, those are the only eyes that matter.

It doesn’t always hurt, sometimes it just makes me weary.