Double Trouble 2: Twisted Sisters

Chapter Fourteen

As time went on, things got a little better. After my stunt at the hospital, I hadn't returned. There wasn't any real need for it either. They were saying she had just regressed into previous stages of her ignoring everyone and was no longer reacting to anything or anybody, no matter what they did; not even mentioning me warranted a reaction, and currently, they weren't willing to let me see her again afraid of her throwing another temper tantrum and hurting herself. Of course, when her doctor called me, he hinted that my seemingly doing so well in life could have been a trigger. I wasn't surprised that the nurse had reported what she had seen of my little performance. I chose to ignore him and agreed when he requested that I stay away from her for a bit. I couldn't really fight his reasoning for it, so I decided to put a halt to my plans to figure out what she was up to. Even though it was a little disappointing, it was also a relief. As determined as I was to figure it out, it was coming up on the holidays, and I rather not ruin that with mind games with Clara.

I did, however, talk to my therapist about the situation. She dug deep into that one, and we analyzed it over several sessions. In the end, we both agreed that it was a vindictive move and a little bitchy (ok, a lot bitchy) and not what we originally agreed upon when we discussed my plans and visiting her that day I was in the hospital. Still, the idea of taking charge of my life back from my sister was noted an improvement despite my methods. She agreed with my sister's doctor that maybe it was best for both my sister and me that we no longer interacted with each other for a while so we could work on healing separately before we could heal together. She knew it interfered with my earlier wishes of probing Clara's head, but she reminded me that I would need to work on me too, which was priority one. I could pick it back up later if and when the doctor felt Clara was ready to see me again. It would also offer an opportunity for possibly an easier way of talking; if her treatment went well, she might eventually answer my questions without mind games and manipulation.

I came to a similar conclusion as well. Going into my sister's room looking like a star was liberating, and I didn't regret it nor hold a lot of guilt about it. However, despite how I felt about my sister and she me, I still hoped for her recovery deep down. I was moving well enough along in therapy to know that a part of me still wished that for her, even if the majority of me was ready to wash my hands of her. Because of that bigger part of me saying fuck her, I knew it probably didn't look like I gave a fuck about her life and recovery. I did what I did because I was so tired and angry about her getting under my skin that I wanted a little payback. Doing what I did had gotten a little of that out of my system, and I could acknowledge more the part that did want her recovery. I may never find out what made her hate me, but even if I never did, if she could move on, I wanted that. I also came to the reality that if she did, though, our relationship would never be the same, and I was ok with that. I knew I wouldn't want her in my life. Trying to murder me was pretty high on my list of cut-off limits, and I would have to love from a distance. I wouldn't want her back in my day to day.

The relationship with my parents was on the mend as well. We started sharing one of my therapy sessions, deciding on once every two weeks. It was a challenge but a much-needed one. It was hard for my dad to open up, but with my mom's and my encouragement, he became a little more vocal. It was slow going but a step forward. Mom and I had the biggest breakdowns in one of our sessions; she was working towards stopping constantly blaming herself and also stop feeling as if I was supposed to save my sister when I was the victim. I had always known my parents had felt guilty, and even though it hurt, I realized they blamed me a little, but I didn't realize the extent and how much that guilt was exacerbated because they knew it wasn't right to blame me for her actions. They had believed for so long that we were the best of friends and loved each other and would do anything for each other that the killing of that belief was hard to take in. Of course, no one would handle one of their children trying to kill the other well.