This is a sad story.
People who were here when I started, or have read my old posts, know that I am one of two children and that both my mother and my sibling were N. In one old post I described my belief that some Ns actually do have and make a choice. For a while, my sibling once chose not to be an N, to me, with me, and I thought that healing might be possible.
The choice not to be an N came as the result of a terribly physically painful experience my sibling had to go through. And sadly, despite that terrible pain, the awareness that came from it - and the desire to be different - simply didn't last. But I was, and will always be, grateful to my sibling for seeing and telling the truth, that one time in our lifetimes.
Anyone who is uncomfortable with the idea of either physical or emotional pain should probably not read any further. I can't sanitize the story and leave enough facts to make sense, but I'll be as vague as I can. People who have read my old posts are in for a surprise here, because I always disguised my sibling's gender out of concern that we might be recognized if I didn't. Telling this story requires me to drop that disguise and take the risk. I'm ready to do that at last.
I was living overseas when this happened. One weekend, the phone rang, and when I answered it, my sister was on the line. She was in an emotional state I'd never heard her in before; sobbing so hard she was hiccuping, barely able to get the sentences out, crying and crying and crying.
And saying over and over again "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I am SO SORRY, I'm sorry...."
I was frightened - something awful had happened - I tried to get her to calm down - I called her back because she couldn't afford to cry on my shoulder at transAtlantic phone rates - and eventually the story came out.
My sister had been clean and sober for about a year. During this time, she'd been seeing a therapist - and a good one. She had begun taking responsibility for herself in ways she'd never been willing to do before; and among the things she chose to do was to take responsibility for being sexually active. Since she was unable to take even a once daily pill reliably, she chose an IUD.
She was calling me in horror because for the first time in her life, she was experiencing cramping and pain. She was in her first cycle since the IUD had been placed - and she was aghast at the pain, and even more aghast at her guilt - guilt I had known nothing about.
You see, when I was younger, I had pain so severe at that time, that I had to be given narcotics for it at times; I was bedridden for at least a day, each month.
My father's sisters had been similarly affected, but neither my mother nor her sister had ever had problems. As it turned out, my sister never felt so much as a twinge, when her time came.
My sister decided that I was faking it for sympathy, and to obtain drugs [remember, she had a problem with abuse of both drugs and alcohol]. And she made a point of saying this, behind my back, to all of my friends - including my boyfriends - if they called when I was indisposed and she was the one to answer the phone.
It was petty, it was malicious, and it was something I never knew or suspected - none of my friends ever told me about it, and my parents either never heard her or never cared.
So her cramps began, and her doctor offered her codeine for the pain, and she took it - and it worked. She remembered the times I had taken codeine, and she had sneered at me behind my back... and was horrified at her cruelty and insensitivity, at her dishonesty, and at her malice. She was overwhelmed with guilt and had to call me and tell me and make it right.
At this point I was crying myself sick, not because of what she was telling me but because I knew how much pain she had to be in, and I was telling her "It's ok, it's ok, I understand, I understand, it's almost impossible to imagine what it feels like if you never have this, please don't cry, it's all right, it's all right..."
We must have cried together on the phone for an hour... by the end of that hour she was still shaken, but knew I had forgiven her, and I was filled with love and concern for her and with hope for our future as sisters. In our entire lives, this was the first time my sister ever told me that she was sorry for anything she had done to me, and the first time that she ever admitted to deliberately 'doing me wrong'.
Sadly, the change in her did not last. I don't know if I'm sadder that she suffered that much pain, that it took that much pain to break through her N defenses, or that even that much pain was not enough for her to stay aware...
Within a year, she was using again, and within two years, we were estranged. And she was maligning me again, behind my back, about anything and everything.
Edit in: having written this, having read it, remembering it all again but seeing it from here - at last, thank GOD! I pity and mourn for her.
