Oct 25

 Tricky.

Rustling up some bleary eyed wellness to do some work today was a struggle. But in the end I managed to make myself useful. But oh boy it's hard. Harder than it has ever been. I've never struggled like this to do work. It's not that I can't do it mentally. It's the physical side of it. Which is ridiculous. All I need to do is prop myself up with a laptop and type. Which perhaps is a mark of how bad I am. I absolutely struggle to do it. Bleary eyed. Feeling like shit. Exhausted. Ravaged by whatever bullshit is going on.

Eh well.

Carry on the good fight.

Trickier still.

I talked to my sister today. I hadn't intended to. I just wanted to sound her out about when she was home and when she was not. I wanted to catch her when she was on her own.

Regardless of my intent - which I communicated - she ended up buzzing me pretty much there and then. Well ok.

And we shared some news. How shit I was. How her lot were doing.

And I got around to talking about my nephew.

I shared some points with her, about him being very down, and things he worried about, and things that might help.

And. For the first time ever. I got a long hard look at the distance in the relationship.

This is no denegration of my sister. But she failed to emote. I mentioned his fears about debts. Everyone has them she says. Yes. Yes. But that's not the point ! And that's not the point that someone suffering wants to hear.

If you say to someone. I am hurting. And their response is. Everyone hurts. It's. Not comforting.

My sister is not doing it to be mean. I don't think she even realises what she's projecting. It's coolness. Not warmth. Solution based. Not emotions. No emotions.

It instantly slapped me in the face that this was how our parents were. Exactly.

No hug. No sympathy. No emotion. Just. Uh huh.

Hard.

Whenever I show him a house she said, he goes funny on me. He says if thats what I want. I tell him it's not what I want. It's what he wants.

But again.

Someone afraid of debt. Of being out there. Riddled with anxieties because they are in a dark place.

They do not want you pointing out places that you could move out to, why don't you go. They want you to say. That you are there for them. That you care for them. That they are not alone. NOT. Flat opportunities.

It's a practical response.

To an emotional problem.

It is. So unhelpful. As to be problematic. It's only going to cause further withdrawal.

I tried again with my sister.

That sometimes it wasn't about finding a solution. It was just about sitting with someone. That everyone at times needed someone to hold their hand. To tell them it was going to be ok. And that you would be there no matter what.

It. Didn't really land.

She talked about practicalities. They would help with a deposit.

He needs a hug !

Like an awful piece of clockwork suddenly clicking around to show the hour, and the machinery and chimes ringing out, it became clear that the thing I spoke of yesterday, the distance present in our family, was also present in my sister. Her kids.

As it is with my brother. And his kids.

My sister said it was hard. He didn't talk to her. Which I understand. But. Sometimes you don't need them to talk. Sometimes you just need to say. Hey. I love you. You're welcome here.

I was very gentle with my sister. I didn't want to interfere. Or tell her what to do. But I could tell. She wasn't getting it. It was. Alien. Didn't compute. Wasn't feasible. Wasn't an option.

I don't think I said. You're ever going to be in a position to kick him out right ? I'm right ? You're never going to say to him, hey, time you left get lost. Right ?

No. Said my sister. But he knows that.

I don't think he does. And even so. He needs reassurance. About so much. Not just that.

Ho hum.

I. Can see now. Why. All the nieces and nephews are the way they are. Distant. The poison of our parents goes a long way. Down two generations at least.

I am not faulting my sister. I am not laying blame at her feet. Or anything. It is, what it is. But I can see she struggles epically with it. It's like a missing note from a song. It's just not there. I don't think she's ever really been taught how to do it. Always. Practical focused.

Afterwards I pondered the fact that she is increasingly trained in psychological stuff. Therapy. Working with troubled kids. Surely the training in there lets you see these patterns. The issues.

But then I realised.

It's all done without emoting. It's done at arms length. Like a puzzle. A thing to work out. Work through. Solve. A math problem. Not an emotional one.

Cold.

I could be wrong. I could be right. I think one thing my nephew could do with a lot of right now is love. Warmth. Appreciation. A hug.

And just like our mom, she might feel inside that she's like that. But she never showed it. Never spoke of it. To the point my sister would always say our mom treated her horribly. Nothing was ever good enough. And yet. To me our mom would say that my sister had so much on her hands. Difficult. She did so much. She did not denigrate her. Admittedly she never said she loved her either. Ever. Not once. But. The point is, there was a difference between what my mom thought, and the actuality my sister got. Even at best it wasn't exactly effusive love and affection. More. Cool admiration at best. But. It's just overwhelmingly obvious how little fucking love, care and empathy were shown. No hugs. No love. Fuck you buddy. Stand up.

But it's that thing. Inability to show care. Vulnerability. Everything is a fight. Guard up. Clip round the back of the ear. March on soldier. Never show vulnerability.

Not cool.

I have realised.

Unless shit changes. And I don't think it will.

My sister is going to be unable to help my nephew. Regardless of them living in the same house. Of being mother son. The language is just not there. It's not only my nephew who has issues to unwrap. It is also my sister. A different set of issues. About learning how to be vulnerable. Love and affection is also about being vulnerable. To someone else. Lowered defences. Trust. Not to hurt you. Something we never learned from our parents. And it would seem was at best patchily learned, or learned at all by my siblings.

Hum ho.

I did my best. As I did my nephew yesterday. I cannot escape the very real feeling that I have achieved very little. That I have not done well. That I am struggling to do anything. I have left it for the moment with my sister. A few things. Some extra space for my nephew. To talk to him. To be gentle with him. To offer him reassurance. Love.

I don't know if she will do it. Or can do it. Can feel comfortable doing it. Her own issues may strangle it.

I spoke to my friend about it all.

One thing he said.

If you looked at the whole situation from 10 miles up. None of it sounds surprising no ? That level of distance. The failure to properly emote. All stemming from our parents. It all makes complete sense.

And it does.

It reads like a simple textbook.

A, leads to B, which gives C.

I am not sure what to do about it all.

In a perfect world. I would talk to my sister a lot. I would. With her permission. Slowly tackle her own issues about that level of closeness. About how to baby step into that. Be a bit more huggable. I would also talk to my nephew. Get him out. Do things with him. Start to slowly chip away at that enormous social anxiety. Show him some better things.

It's not a perfect world. And I can't do any of that. Distance being one problem. Health being another.

Let us be blunt here. No recriminations. But simple words. Simply framed.

My nephew is struggling with anxieties, depression, life is screwing him over. And he has no emotional support. At all. Zero. Zilch. No love. No TLC. My sister cannot give it to him. Incapable of doing so. And so the situation persists. The only solutions offered are practical ones. In the hope that everything else magically sorts it out. It's a fucked situation. 

It is not that she doesn't care. Just that she cannot project that. Cannot comfort. Cannot console. Doesn't know how to.

Ho hum.

It also made me realise a little, some of the ways I am different. I am not like that. To me. Comforting someone. Is not hard. And how important it is - the most important ! Push comes to shove, little else matters in the end ! Not money, not things, not places, not houses. Fuck all. But people. Being present. That matters. Be there. Show you care. It's ok. And I get it. How people suffer. And how awful that is. And I can be there with them.

And apparently, not everyone can do that. So. Perhaps. I have a little worth there. Maybe. A little spark. Even though it seems ridiculous to me. Surely. This is just. Normal ?

I confessed to my friend the other day, that I had realised that I would, until the very end, always be the one holding the light. Even as I sink beneath the waves. Always. Holding the light. And some would come looking to me, to hold that light.

I guess, that's my lot in life. It is, how it is always going to be. Even when I am a faint ghost of an echo. I will be looked towards.

I am. Kind of. Ok with it. I. Kind of. Accept it. I don't like it. I don't want it. But it is what it is. I suppose. I wish someone would save me, lock stock and barrel. But that's not going to happen. And instead, I can just offer a sliver of help to others in my invalid state.

I have, for the moment, done my best I think.

And I will think on it. And see if I can come up with anything else. Doubtful. Because I am very limited in what I can do. But I will think. In the gaps between me just keeping my head above water.

Perhaps I am deluded. Just an idiot. Fumbling around. Can never be entirely sure.