I no longer wish to be angry or resentful. It's probably not possible for me to completely stop wishing things were different, but I can try to detach from that as well. One of my big realizations this week having to do with my family is an obvious one, but it bears repeating until I can remember it.
The real root of my family issues come from (IMO)Mom's unexamined, debilitating lack of self-esteem. None of the outcomes were meant to hurt me. None of it was "against" me. Yes, I was in the overspray. Yes, I got caught up in it, but it wasn't intentional. I just need to let it be hers and my end of the tug-of-war-rope needs to stay where I discarded it. God grant me the serenity.....
The day was a fun, a bit sad and enlightening. I discovered that even when I'm trying to be in recovery, I tend to fall back into old patterns and behaviors that were established decades ago. It's a sing-song chorus that I've been actively participating in for years. It's hard to change those behaviors and it makes other's uneasy when you don't do what you've always done.
I've said here before that my sister has always been my fashion consultant. She's got good eye and I trust her judgment. It never dawned on me. Never.dawned.on.me until yesterday that those exchanges between us might not be good for her. The three of us were having a great time. We'd gone to see her new property, had a great lunch (so much for my healthful ways - hello, sweet potato fries!) and then went shopping at "our" favorite store in my old stomping grounds - all old patterns. I needed/wanted a new dress to wear to a wedding in a couple of weeks. So I asked her to help me look. And she picked out three stunners, two more work appropriate, one summer wedding appropriate and each under $20, so I bought all three.
She went with me to the dressing area, hanging out by the big mirrors, as she always does. She makes friends with everyone in the dressing room trying on clothes, as she always does and before I can even get out of the room, she's helping others with their clothing choices, as well.
But those people aren't her sister. I am. And when I come out of the dressing room, it hurt her. I could see it in her face. Not that the dress doesn't look good, because it did. With the recent weightloss, this dress was made for me. And she took one look at it and turned it all inward. I could recognize the signs. Been there, done that. Picking out a dress for me became a weapon to use on herself.
She is beautiful. Drop dead, always dressed to the nines, eye catching gorgeous. As she is. Right now, today. She's a six foot tall red head with blue eyes the size of saucers, pearly white teeth and dimples. She's 35 years old with a wicked wit and I suspect she's close to 300 pounds, if not over. Her weight doesn't matter to me one whit (save health reasons), but it bothers her in that way that most of us know about. And I know, or think I know, that it the weight is just a symptom of other stuff. I just hope that she can find a way to be happy with herself.
Take good care of yourself. Be kind to others. Make peace.