I’m called to write about sisters and the more I ponder it the more is revealed. I adopted three sisters in January of 2023. I had wanted two boy kittens but the Universe brought these girls to me in an interesting way. It felt like the right thing to do, which one would I leave behind? Part of their existence in my life is healing my own childhood traumas. I wrote their stories in The Three Little Kittens. The things I learned from them and through them are helping “my relationship with my mother wound” heal.
Mom had three girls from two of four marriages. My older sister is two years older than I am. My little sister is ten years younger than I am. I only lived with both of them at different times for short periods of time. My older sister for maybe my first three years, off and on. My younger sister probably about the same time overall and still off and on. My grandmother helped raise me until she died when I was 12.
My older sister was kept by her biological father but he never wanted me, ever. That is a topic for another time, or not. My older sister and I were reunited for birthdays in our younger years, the grandmothers on both side made sure of that. Otherwise we would not even know who each other is. We are as opposite as day and night. Seriously and literally. We often marvel at how extremely opposite we are, still to this day. I’m the nice one, as my older sister puts it. Our mother always said to me, “Why can’t you be more like your older sister?” The older sister didn’t live with Mom, so she had these rose colored glasses about the child she no longer had with her. My older sister could do no wrong in my mothers eyes and wounded heart. She actually followed our mother’s footsteps in many ways.
I was probably about 13 when I came to live with Mom again after she had my little sister. Tough age to be. I wouldn’t go back for anything! I felt lucky I survived those next three years. I was the built in baby sitter. Other kids were off doing things together, involved in after school activities and I was home babysitting my little sister and brother. I haven’t figured out yet why, but Mom took jobs where she went to work around three in the afternoon and got off at midnight. She would be leaving just as we got home from school. No homemade cookies waiting for us. I had to step in and be the little momma, as I remember it. I didn’t like it and rebelled. She kicked me out, thank god, when I was 16. A memory I’ll not repeat here. My little sister was five going on six. She grew up hearing Mom say, “You’re going to end up just like Jackie.” Mom never could “handle me”. I was probably her karma child. My little sister did not turn out like me. This time it is me saying, she’s the nice one.
So here I am, the two flesh and blood sisters I have were not raised with me. As I sit here writing this, I realize no wonder I don’t have “sister relationships”. I don’t do well with female friends. I’ve had a few over time but they come and they go, none have stayed forever. I went to 10 different schools, at least, growing up. Always moving made it difficult to build solid relationships. Then as a young adult, I followed in my mom’s gyspy spirit. I moved back and forth between Idaho and Montana before I headed west and never went back.
I also had mostly men friends. Thinking back it probably started with hanging out in the parking lot smoking as a teenager. Then proceeding to hanging out in bars. The guys were my “buddies”. They taught me how to play pool, cus like a sailor, and drink like a fish. When I quit drinking, men were still the majority of my friends. Memories of my AA days as a twenty something in recovery. When I met and married Keith, we became best friends and lived as remotely as possible. His mountain men friends became mine as well. Some of my long time friends have been men.
I was beat up by a couple of girls in high-school because one of the girls had previously been dating the guy I was dating. Didn’t endear me to girlfriends, or the boyfriend. As the years have gone on, I have found women being jealous of me. Some have even gone so far as to actually tell me that. It’s not a good feeling. Why can’t women just be happy for other women? Is it a genetic composition? I know some men compete with others. I also get how much of that is natural. I guess I always thought it was a guy thing. I also thought that women were just catty. I have learned we see in others what we have within ourselves. What an amazing classroom this human life on planet earth is!
So that brings me back around to sisters. I watch these three little girl ginger kitties. Two of them have white socks, the other doesn’t. The one that doesn’t is a loner. She will join in playing with the other two, but she is often off by herself hunting, sleeping, or wanting to be on my lap. She also became my favorite early on. Because she is the odd duck? Hmmm, pondering life’s paths. I’ve often been drawn to the underdog and been a loner myself. Hmmm again, my mother was often a loner too. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Mom was separated from two of her four sisters. Life’s circles are so interesting and I’m working on healing generational wounds, I feel it, I know it, I am. I recently heard and resonate with “A healed heart can’t be wounded”.
Letting in the Light,