Sisters, Not Sisters, and Training

As I get older, I understand how important it is to avoid, as much as possible, filling one’s life with people who are negative influences.  I wish I had learned this lesson earlier, particularly because it was a very difficult and painful lesson to learn.  At the same time, I believe it’s critical to accept and learn from the people who cause you distress in your life, so this is a topic I feel really mealy-mouthed about.  In my case, the story is about my sisters, although even to think speaking those words together makes my mouth feel strange.

Life had proceeded apace.  I was at an aikido seminar, standing on the mat in a large sword class - a gymnasium filled with more than a hundred people spaced about a katana and a half from each other—practicing iaido forms.  (Iaido is the Japanese art of drawing a blade and striking your opponent in one move.)  I remember starting to execute a movement, tumblers clicking into place in my mind, and realizing I would never see my two sisters again.

It was one of those moments where time comes crashing down about your ears and shakes the earth beneath your feet; a real gut blow.  While I concentrated on maintaining the correct angle for a strike, some circuit had inadvertently connected in my mind and suddenly things seemed quite clear.  I didn’t have the ability to visit my sisters, and they simply didn’t care enough to visit or me.  The truth of our relationships hit me in full force and I struggled through the rest of the sword class with tears streaming down my face for no reason I understood.

It’s funny how over so many years you can create a compelling fiction about the connections you have with other people, only to have it dissolve in one flash of insight.  In the 90s there was a popular self-help book called “He’s just not that into you” written for people who were a little bit dim or deluded out on the dating scene.  It actually wasn’t that bad, as I recall; it was the 90s version of a dope-slap from your friends and, if you didn’t have actual friends, the bookshelves at your local Barnes and Noble.  It’s one of the cultural influences that made me start focusing on what people do rather than what they say.

When my mother suddenly died, my academic career all but ended.  My husband had long since checked out of our marriage.  I was severely depressed and called my sisters for help (it had been an isolating relationship and there was no one else to call).   One of them said I shouldn’t worry, since my husband hadn’t tried to murder me (hers had). The other said that it was probably my fault my husband left in the first place, and if I really cared about him I would fight the other woman to win him back.  She added that she really liked my husband and if we divorced would prefer to remain friends with him.

That was the first go-round.  The final good byes came a couple years later.  I had a pattern of making sentimental, drunk calls to one or the other sister every three or four months.  During one of these calls, I told one of the sisters I loved her (at which time I truly did).  Of course, she responded, “I love you, too,” which is what a well-brought-up person does.  As soon as I hung up I realized that I had extorted that statement from her in my drunken haze.   In fact, the sister in question is quite narcissistic; if there are people she cares about, it’s quite clear from her actions that I am not one of them.  Which is fine, because when the veil fell from my eyes I discovered the person I had worshiped and loved unconditionally didn’t exist.

Another time when I was in a situation I had reason to believe was seriously life-threatening I reached out to the other sister.  I had already exhausted all other sources, so this was, in my mind, a final plea.  I emailed her saying I was going through a really hard time and could use some help.  She emailed me back saying she really didn’t have any money to give me.  That was a bit of bizarre, since I hadn’t made any mention of money and wasn’t talking about financial stuff at all.  What I was concerned about was making a human connection so I wouldn’t go suicidal again, which I had done in the past and which hole I had been digging myself, alone and fairly successfully, out of.  I emailed said sister back to point out that I hadn’t asked for money; what I needed was emotional support – someone to talk to.

Her response was that she was not an emotional person and could not provide that kind of support.  I found her response shocking; how cold is that?   Today, I would wonder if she suffers from Asperger’s or psychopathy.  At any rate, that was my KTHXBAI family moment.  I was in serious, life-threatening crisis, worried about falling down into the same black hole I had visited before, but at least this time I could discern friends from enemies.   In a survival situation, you have to make rapid, strategic choices; things are crystal clear.  Attachments to my remaining biological family had been based in delusion.

I sent emails to both sisters bidding them farewell and wishing them the best.  In subsequent days, weeks, months and years I discussed my decision with actual friends and fellow Buddhists to make sure my actions were not misguided.  For a very long time I had to sit with the ideas of betrayal and abandonment that these emotions provoked in me.  I’ve chosen to try to be as open, accepting and compassionate towards others as I can manage, even when my personal feelings might be hurt.  Probably it helps that I train in martial arts and Buddhism and am dedicated to striving to handle all strikes that land on me with what Buddhists call skillful means (showing compassion even in difficult situations).   I have learned that my problems are much less than what others face in their daily lives, and I will always strive to be there for anyone who needs help.

“Heaven is where you are standing, and that is the place to train.”

Rebecca