Ever since I understood how unwell my sister is mentally, I have little oomph or humor. I feel as if I am a stagnant pond - emotionally going nowhere and physically drained. I just do not know how to feel. It has nothing to do with my sister - I love her; always have and always will without condition. Part of it belongs to the veracity that I am one of a family and I did not know, nor, did they - well, her mother may have - how psychologically ill she is/was - all these years, not knowing, not being there; I find it hard to accept being part of that actuality. I talked to my therapist and she said I need to stay with the present and take one day at a time - that her illness would not have changed, even if I had known. But still, not knowing, yet calling myself “sister” - well, it just depletes my heart!

Life is an adjustment in itself, even without Carlene coming. All my life, I have had one personal friend, Kerryl (this is not counting my internet friends, which are few, but precious). Now I suddenly have many, I think... Anyway, it is nerve-racking, as I fear I will wake up one day and find I have offended them all, or failed in some way and then, like the “poof” of a fairy god-mother, they will all be gone. It is tempting to go back into hiding - if I run away first, then if they all dump me (would not blame them) I would not be hurt (yeah, right!).

Sitting, reflecting on the windows of my life
I notice many now darkened,
they match the wounds of my heart,
father, son, and sister-friend,
yesterdays left only longing
in the vessels of the mind
the created memory slots
where joy and deep sorrow
meld; windows, shades forever
pulled down, yet darkness never
exists in the corridors of a loving
cerebral impression called home.