Moments of Clarity

Moments of Clarity

Our individual realities are always shaped and formed by our varying circumstances and life experiences.  My sister had a profound effect on mine.

Growing up with an undiagnosed bipolar sibling was at the very least unpredictably terrifying.  Living with the reality that my parents were in total denial was devastating. 

From my earliest memory Susie emotionally hijacked our family.  I was sure the phrase “walking on egg shells” was coined expressly for us.  Susie was and still is one of the most intelligent, beautiful and funny people I know.  Her ability to turn a bad situation into something glorious was only predicated by her unpredictable, wildly aggressive temper.  One moment you were lured into laughing, smiling and letting your guard down.  Like a snake charmer she could will you to get comfortable, tell her your innermost secrets, ask you how you really felt about something personal and then SNAP!  It was an actual physical transformation.  Like a contortionist she took shape into another person.  Ugly, angry and venomous, she would strike out.  Using words and expletives beyond description she would verbally assault.  Physically her 5’3” 100lb stature changed into a hulk-like creature capable of taking down people 3 times her size. 

The undeniable fact that my sister suffers from a debilitating mental illness is not lost on me.  Her outbursts unprovoked and nonsensical were horrifying as a child yet my love for her always outweighed her episodes. I wanted so badly for her to

be the sister everyone else had.  The one who braided their hair, took them to the mall, helped them with boy problems.  I had glimpse of that sister.  She had moments of clarity.

She was fiercely loyal.  The one saying our family used still holds true.  “You definitely want her on your side and not against you”. 

Susie is the middle child.  A lot of her behaviors were written off to “being the middle child”.  I was so convinced that this was a viable reason that I was very concerned when I became pregnant for the third time that my middle daughter would be doomed to exhibit the same traits as my sister.

My brother, Lee, the oldest was usually the target for the more physical attacks.  He was under strict orders to NEVER hit a girl.  He was relegated to hitting the walls or doors in the hallway.  When we sold our home we spent an unusually large amount of money patching the drywall.  My clever mother mod-podged flowers cut out from existing wallpaper scraps on the holes in closet doors. 

Susie was great at psychological warfare.  She knew my brother hated peanut butter so everything she baked for home economics had peanut butter in it.  She didn’t eat any of her creations but she enjoyed torturing Lee by ruining any chance he had for eating yummy desserts.  Things would take “a turn for the worse” when Lee would ask her why she did that.  The result was usually a battle of words followed by punching and hitting, by my sister.  For me, it was the allure of “The Twilight Zone”.  It was a super scary TV show that was on Friday nights past my bedtime.  When my parents were out and Susie was babysitting me she would encourage me to watch the show promising a happy outcome.  The happy outcome never happened and Susie would then shut off the lights and chase me around in the dark.  Locking me in the hall closet was always an option too.

I'm not sure when or how the power shift happened from parent to child. 

I can hope and dream that somehow there's a special reason she's like this.  Maybe Motzart was like this.  Maybe her brilliance cannot be understood  or processed by me.  "Let go and let God" is given a whole new meaning when it comes to my sister.  It's so hard to stand by and watch someone seemingly unravel before your eyes and know there is not a thing you can do about it.  She won't allow it.  I just wait for the moments of clarity.