Sisters

My earliest memory I was 5 years old standing on the lid of the toilet singing to my sister while my mother changed her on the counter in the bathroom.  She would cry because the diaper rashes were so bad.  We slept in the same double bed for years.  I was a restless sleeper so for safety sake she lined up her plastic horses and other toys down the middle of the bed to keep me on my side of the bed.  I watched out for her.  Loved her.  Things changed over time.  Five years difference is a lot to a nine year old that has to take her little sister everywhere.  Loved her but wanted to be on my own.  Teen years I still watched out for her and worried.  I saw mother not treating her well.  Relaxed a little when I saw she had some close friends that lived close by.  I didn't know the real story.  I married and moved away.  Many years passed.  I am a terrible letter writer.  If I called home I could speak to no one except mother.  I became sicker.  I heard snippets of news.  My sister came and stayed with me after I had two of my children.  I tried to connect but I missed the feeling of closeness we had in childhood.  Something was wrong.  I knew I had messed up.  I just didn't know how to make things better or where to start.  Finally moved back to within a mile of my parents home.  I had sworn never to live in this city again.  Life didn't work out that way.  I tried to rebuild my relationship with my sister.  Still felt a barrier.  I didn't know how to change it.  I figured I really screwed up.  I drifted along.  Surviving breast cancer jolted my world.   Then I started counseling.   I talked at my parents house about not remembering anything from childhood.  I still remember standing out in front of my parents house talking to my sister when she asked me what I remembered.  I told her that I remembered practically nothing.  She started talking about one traumatic event that we were both there.  She watched as all the color left my face and I nearly passed out.  With dawning realization she  muttered, "You acted as if nothing happened because you really don't remember."  Flashes, images, fear spun through my mind.  Shortly after this time I explained to my parents and sister that I was diagnosed with PTSD with Dissociation at a severe level.  I explained that I functioned as a multiple personality.  My parents denied it completely.  My sister told me later that at first she thought that was pretty far fetched until she started thinking about my behavior over the years.  The changes in what I would say, not remembering conversations, repeating the same question multiple times, changes in how I talked, hundreds of little behaviors that made sense when she accepted that I was a multiple personality.  Around this time she gave me a card for encouragement that showed us both as gingerbread girls and she helped me out of the cookie jar.  So our relationship changed yet again.  My sister became my strongest ally in accepting my mental illness for what it was, an elaborate survival tool that out lived its usefulness.  We started walking and talking on a weekly basis.  She didn't mind when each of the personalities would ask the same question.  She went along with the switching and would listen to cues in my voice and vocabulary as to which one she was talking too.  She was trusted enough that at one time or another she had talked to each of the different personalities.  She supported and encouraged me as I integrated.  She validated my memories as I remembered things so bizarre.  She got after me when I was being unreasonable with counselor, family, or myself.  In our childhood, I took care of my sister. As adults, my sister took care of me.  I will always thank God for sending my sister Judy to my house.  I am so sorry she had to suffer some of the things that she did.  I truly believe that Judy made all the difference in my recovery.  PTSD will be with me all of my life.  Judy will be right there loving me through it.  Thank God for Judy.