Portrait of my Sister
My half-sister Heidi stormed through the neighborhood, her cutoff denim shorts barely covering her generous rump, her tied up half shirt battling with her abundant bosom. She painted her eyelids purple and blue with bright pink streaks along her cheeks. Her dirty blonde hair resembled the famous Farrah Fawcet.
Through the years, Heidi has played many roles in my life: caregiver, abuser, protector, and adversary. I have never been certain where I stand in her heart or her life. Although we have the same mother, our fathers are not the same. I’ve never been sure what role a half sister plays and will forever wonder how to define it.
When I was little, Heidi regularly took care of me. She was unpleasant during these times, locking me in the hall closet or forgetting to feed me. I felt it was my due punishment for getting in her way. The unwanted responsibility of caring for her little sister was the first wedge in our relationship. As I matured into my teenage years, Heidi grew friendlier, although I still never felt secure in her love for me. Sometimes she took me for donuts and chocolate milk on Saturday mornings. I remember watching television in the living room, still cozy in my pajamas, when she would call, “Let’s get out of here!” I was eager to bond with my big sister. I felt that for a brief moment she was letting me in.
Many things happened to Heidi between my teenage years and early adulthood. She met a guy and after knowing him for only two months, became pregnant. She gave birth to a baby girl named Chelsey, and eventually married the father. It wasn’t meant to last. They separated three months from their wedding day. Heidi was a frustrated single mother who emotionally and verbally abused her daughter. It was devastating to watch her keep her daughter at arms length. When she came home from work, Chelsey would run to her mom and give her a hug. “Get off me,” Heidi said. Her little girl cowered away in defeat. “It’s none of your business,” and “You are so damn nosy!” were other phrases Chelsey became accustomed to.She went through a string of men. “Men are only good for one thing,” she said. “I leave them before they have a chance to leave me.”
Still, despite the chaos of Heidi’s life, I held on to our times of togetherness. I babysat, loaned her money that would never be repaid, offered words of encouragement even though she was responsible for her latest drama. I tried to be a good sister. It never seemed enough.
I eventually got married and moved away. I was sad to leave my niece, knowing what her existence would be without me. Heidi became involved in an abusive relationship. I talked to her frequently, hoping she would get away. She said she was in love with him. I cried myself to sleep many nights, envisioning what was happening in that house. I pictured my sister screaming in pain as her abuser pursued her, of my niece crouched in her bedroom closet, weeping in fear. I became aware that the trailer they were living in had no gas or electricity. I called protective services. I told the case worker of the abuse in the home, hoping they would take action and protect Chelsey. “There’s nothing we can do unless you can prove the child has been sexually abused,” the case worker explained. I pleaded with this man, cursing my sister for another family crisis.
Not long after that call, my sister fled to a domestic abuse shelter. My niece came to live with me. I found out that Heidi was pregnant with her abuser’s baby. I spent the next four years raising Chelsey while battling my sister’s twisted life. Heidi returned to her abuser twice with her new baby before he tried to kill her. He fled to another state before he was formally charged with domestic abuse. I fear he will eventually return to finish the job.
Raising my niece was no easy task. Despite my optimism, I was unable to reverse the damage created in her first twelve years. After being lied to, stolen from, manipulated and used, I returned Chelsey to her biological father. This made my sister furious, as she believed herself to be the better parent and further drove the mile wide wedge between us.
I have since cut all ties with Heidi. I am saddened by this; she is my sister, half or whole. As Thanksgiving came and went, I realized this was the first holiday we have not spent together. That’s the thing about Heidi, no matter what is happening in her life, she always shows for the holidays. She brings stocking stuffers and presents at Christmas; colorful baskets and chocolate bunnies at Easter. Every year, we pretend we are a normal family; no resentment, no blame, no score card.
Codependency is destructive. That is a lesson I’ve learned through the years. I wasn’t strong enough to break the cycle Heidi and I had created in our relationship. Now, I am resolved to accept her for whom and what she is. I cannot fix something that thrives on being broken.
