A program friend recently asked me if I out my sister to punish her, and cautioned me against it—because that(punishing) would be bad for my recovery (not out of regard for her). I share what happens because finally, I can and I must. Fortunately, what I have to share is observable, undeniable action/behavior, witnessed by my sons and nieces and even my sister herself, not relative, at all. I do not imagine or cause the overt acts of betrayal and disloyalty. And– as my boys get older and may one day want clarity about what was going on with me/us, it will be here– where I share my experience of it. It is a privilege and a duty to exercise rigorous honesty and– my recovery is hinged to sharing—all of the stuff.
Since public appearances are prized by her, and this is unfavorable behavior; I leverage that. If knowledge of her choices and values causes discomfort, it is not the sharing part, that needs changing. I am certain she will offer a million justifications for why she must and can and should. Right things do not ever need justification. This, all because I unapologetically expressed an honest and clear boundary.
Disrupting our co-parenting and family, and robbing our sons of innocence is a sin against them. Requiring children to dissociate is not the choice of a kind and happy person. Her dark and demanding presence, insistence on hugs, the pretending required by my boys…all of it is vile. This is where I get to state my objection.
My ex-husband laughed heartily, literally roared, when I asked him to step back until we (my mother and sister) worked it out. My ex declared, with something not unlike maniacal pleasure, how my mother and sister had zero intent of making things right between us. In foolish disbelief, I went directly to my mother…who confirmed for me the truth of what he said. Ouch!
I can only imagine the exchanges between them, that led him to his insight. My sons exposure to the unwholesomeness of this alliance is tragic. My powerlessness to protect my little guys makes me angry AF.
Apparently my sister (hate to use that word) hosted another dinner for my ex, his father, and my sons this weekend…spent the evening fawning over him, over his basic lettuce, tomato, carrot salad…so amaaaaazing (as disclosed with horror, by my sons). And she is reported to have suggested more than a few times, how they MUST get together next time– at his house. STOP. Barf!
The most disturbing thing about this, is that I can fully envision myself, before recovery, being exactly this spiteful and vindictive and feeling completely entitled, victorious, and intoxicated by my indisputable rightness. It is true.
I am a work in progress. I am powerless over this. It is difficult to witness my boys being used and confused—by family, in the name of love. Especially by someone always wearing only white, always smiling, laughing awkwardly, tryunuh hug up on my boys and ex while claiming love. Lord, help us all. Because, obviously….
Then I wonder…am I defending my sharing? Nah, I don’t think so. This blog is more like an ongoing fourth step, where I examine all of my own ickyness.
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