We are 18 months apart and currently living 2 hours away from each other. Six months ago I was telling all my friends how much I loathed her and how horrible a person she is, now I’m wishing she lived closer so I could spend my day talking and cooking with her instead of writing this blog.
The truth is we’re horrible roommates, but we’d make great neighbors. This theory has never been tested because we’ve always either lived together or many miles apart.
Growing up with her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Literally the entire family and anyone that came across her thought she was satan disguised as a blonde hair, blue eyed girl. She actually tried to kill me on several occasions, I have witnesses. Our mother had us both when she was a teenager. As if that wasn’t enough, my sister had to be so difficult. She took all of the attention away from me, so I grew up lonely. Truly, the only person either of us had growing up was each other.
As children we suffered the same abuse from our babysitter. About a week after we turned our babysitter in our mother locked us out of the house calling us sluts for letting him mess with us. I still can’t remember why she got so angry and said those things. We still talk to each other about it very briefly every now and then, but really it hurts to much to think about it alone, much less talk about it with someone.
At one point in our childhood we lived on our uncles farm, it was lovely. We were related to most everyone in the town. We could get up on a Saturday morning and walk out on the farm, go up the mountain to Uncle Greens Playground, ride our bikes to the store for a coke and a cow tail or a Watchamacallit bar; all without supervision. It was safe. The town was even called Pleasant Valley. Unfortunately things didn’t always stay that way. At some point after we left the farm we had trouble with our mom, mostly Casey had the trouble, I just put up with it. She called social services and said our mom was beating us too brutally too much. So she went to stay with an aunt, then she was in and out of mental hospitals, and eventually she ended up in foster care.
Before she was in the mental hospital, Casey was in a children’s hospital being examined for a few months. It hurt me that she was in the hospital, but what hurt me worse was that our mom would drive two hours after work everyday to go see her while I sat in a daycare or with a babysitter by myself. I missed Casey too. I also hated that I pretty much grew up without a mom. Even when she was around she was drinking, with a boyfriend, on the phone with a friend, or just completely focusing her attention on something else. But she would go out of her way to go see Casey, for this I resented my sister. I understood that Casey required a lot of attention, but what I didn’t understand was why my mom never focused any attention on me when Casey wasn’t around. I asked her about it years later, she said she dated so much to try to find a replacement father or she didn’t bother with me because I shut her out my entire childhood. Regardless, our mother is one of the main reason I hated my sister for so long. Even to this day our mom is the same way. I’ve never told her I was so jealous of the attention she got.
Casey ended up in foster care when mom was dating Jeremy. Casey had gotten the beating of a lifetime when she bit and morphed an expensive ring Jeremy had gotten our mother. I was 10, she was 11, we decided to run away. I got scared, Casey hauled ass on her bike. A few hours later the cops found her. She was sent to live with a very Christian family not too far from us, but far enough to where I couldn’t see her anymore. We did get to see her on visits with her social worker. I remember her leaving one visit extremely angry. I rode with my mother in her car as Casey rode in her social workers backseat. Riding down the road I watched her kick the window out of that woman’s car.
The family Casey stayed with was a sweet, gentle, Christian family, but they required her to be one of them. Casey being introduced to church was great, but like everyone in the family she had to get a boy cut and wasn’t allowed to wear makeup, read certain books, listen to certain music, etc. Unlike the family, she wasn’t homeschooled. She was made fun of like crazy at school during an awkward age and had no one to turn to.
The next few years Casey would move back in and just as soon move back out. At first to our dads/grandparents because of boys. When we were teenagers, Casey got herself in trouble with boys like nobody’s business. We moved around a lot, I tried to count how many times we’d moved in my childhood, I lost count somewhere over 40. Every time we’d move, Casey would build back up her reputation, and people would assume I was the same way. At 16 she started moving in with boyfriends. At this point my mom had no say in it, Casey did what she wanted. As a kid she was complicated, as a teenager she was beyond being your average psychopath. There were times i wanted to kill her. Eventually she met her match and started to change.
His name was Darien, he was a convicted sex offender in California and he got my sister to do meth. For whatever reason, my mother loved him. He was charming and begged for forgiveness for his past. He wasn’t as sweet as he led on. He stole and pawned our stuff for drug money. Apparently he always beat the crap out of Casey. A friend of ours witnessed him drag her by her hair out of a skating rink, throw her on the ground, and kick her sides. We didn’t know until the relationship was over. After they got engaged she was pregnant. When she lost the baby, he didn’t even care. Her losing the baby hurt me, and it hurt her more than I could ever understand. She has a tattoo in his memory and still caries everything she had for him. She’s had several miscarriages since, but none as hard as that one.
As horrible as Darien was, he made her better. He was just as mean as she was and for some reason it calmed her down. She still wasn’t always easy to be around, but she got better. For the first time, she started to change.
When the abuse happened, Casey started eating a lot, and I almost stopped completely, leading us both in opposite eating disorders. We have completely different personalities, interest, and standards. If she was just some girl I met at school or work, I would have tried to avoid her. But she’s my sister, we suffered together, and even though we were so far apart, we still grew up together. She’s still my sister and she’s still my best friend.
We are now both out of all bad situations we’ve ever been in and that itself makes everything great. Her new husband is a sweet man and she’s about to start college. I’ll be done with college soon and hopefully living just down the street from her.
I love my sister, I don’t understand her, but I love her.