And Then We Were Three: A Troubled Relationship with a Borderline Sister
Note ~ There are ten personality disorders listed in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders. Their etiology is extremely complex as is management of them. The purpose of today's blog is to shed some light on Borderline Personality Disorder. Names have been changed for confidentiality.
Part One - And Then We Were Three:
A Troubled Relationship with a Borderline Sister
I was overly excited as I slid out
of the driver’s seat and walked briskly to the entrance of “Carats” – a specialty
boutique filled will all sorts of bling.
Although there were shelves lined with shiny sliver -stoned purses and
glass cases protecting rows of sparkling chains and bobbles, I had my eye out
for a delicate but extraordinarily elaborate picture frame. I had been into the shimmering little shop a
few weeks previously; it was then I spotted the perfect 60th
birthday gift for my older sister.
As I approached the nearly six-foot
tall glass enclosed locked case, I breathed a sigh of relief. The smooth forest green unique circular frame
dotted with multi-colored tiny jewels and gems awaited my purchase. A striking petite woman with a thick silky
grey page-boy style hair poised herself next to the display case and asked if
she could help me. Within just a couple
of minutes, I was at the counter paying for the special gift and we began to
talk.
“Is this a gift and would you like
me to wrap it for you?” the soft-spoken woman asked.
“Yes, it is,” I smiled. “It is for my sister’s 60th
birthday. And I would like it gift-wrapped.
Thank you.”
“How lovely,” she responded. “She must be very special to you.”
“Oh yes,” I confirmed. “She gave me a surprise 40th
birthday celebration many years ago, and I have always wanted to give one for
her. My younger sister and I have spent
weeks planning a surprise luncheon at one of her favorite places with a group
of her very close friends. We are so
excited! It’s hard to put one over on my
older sister, but we think she will be completely shocked!”
As the sweet woman carefully
wrapped several pieces of tissue paper around the frame before placing it into
a frosty pink and black bag, she quietly asked, “So, you have two sisters – one
older and one younger?”
Immediately, a lump lodged its way
into my throat and I found it hard to swallow. Although seconds seemed like
minutes, and I had been in this same conversation many times before, I always
found myself caught off guard. While I searched for the right words, a stream
of responses replayed themselves through my mind:
No, I have a third sister. But she has disowned us. No…that is not a good answer.
Well, I have a third sister but she doesn’t
talk to my other sisters and me – at least not right now.
Or, should I just lie? Yes, I have just two other sisters. No, that doesn’t feel right either.
I took in a deep breath, sighed, and responded
to her question.
“I do have three sisters – another
one who is younger – the youngest of the four of us. Unfortunately, she is angry with the three of
us right now and is not speaking to us.
This happens a lot. It’s just the
way it is.”
I was waiting for an uncomfortable
look or perhaps an “I am sorry” response from the gentle lady. I paused not knowing if I had said too
much. She looked up at me with sorrow in
her eyes. She placed her hand on mine as
it rested on top of the cold glass.
“I know what you mean. I have
ten brothers and sisters. Of the seven
of us that are still living, two of them still do not talk to the rest of
us. I let go it a long time ago. Nothing I can do about it.“ A soft smile
crossed her face. “Life is just too
short and too hard. It is easier this
way.”
“I know,” I said, “I agree.” I picked up my pretty gift-wrapped bag and
started to leave. “Thank you so
much. It looks lovely!”
“Have a wonderful time at the
surprise party for your sister,” she added.
“We will,” I responded as I made my
way to the door. Turning one last time
before I exited the shop, I smiled and said, “It will be a beautiful and
memorable day!”
Walking to my car, I couldn’t help but
think of my youngest sister – Kelly. She
would not be a part of an incredible joy-filled day. Once again, she would be missing at an
important family event – a sister’s birthday.
Once again, I felt sad. And then,
I recalled the little lady’s words, “It is easier this way.”
I had known that for a long time.
As far back as I can remember, life
was a struggle for Kelly. I was six and
entering first grade when she was born.
I remember a fussy baby, lots of crying, and no one really being able to
comfort her. Throughout my elementary
and junior high years, I remember Kelly’s
presence and yet, I cannot recall vivid memories of her. I was a senior in high school when she was
just twelve. That was when she first
started getting sick a lot –even hospitalized.
Her allergies to medications intensified her illnesses. While away at college, I really did not know
her well. Coming home for mandatory
school breaks, I remember how Kelly argued with my other sisters and with me. I
can still hear the yelling, the screaming, and bedroom doors slamming with
never any hope of resolution or apology. She was difficult. I don’t remember her being happy or
settled.
One of the few times I felt I got a
glimpse into Kelly’s being more closely was when I was in my late twenties. Three days prior to the school year starting,
I had unexpectedly and thankfully been offered a teaching job in my home town. I
moved in with my parents and would stay with them until I could get my feet on
the ground and secure my own apartment.
My youngest sister, in her early twenties was still living at home. Although I would certainly not consider
myself a tower of stability at the
time, I did have a good job and was determined to get my life on track. During the ensuing year, my sister and I
enjoyed one another’s company. I
remember that we even double-dated a couple of times, and we shared our
newly-found true romances with one another.
I recall Kelly laughing, and at
times, I thought she bottled up a free spirit within her that was bursting to
get out! And then there were so many
other occasions when her fragility and sensitivity to the outside world seemed
to come crashing down on her. Her trust
in others was paper thin, and the slightest inference of rejection tore at her
being and she recoiled instantly.
By the end of the school year, I
had saved enough money to get my own apartment and to start living
independently again. Although I remember
that Kelly was sad to see me move out, I was ready to go. However, I remember how
much I worried about her. Kelly’s life was like riding a rough roller-coaster
of sorts with lots of bumpy ups and downs and sharp twists and turns. I knew I needed to distance myself from the
drama that surrounded her, some self-inflicted, and some that appeared to
always find her.
***
Over the next eighteen years, my
other two sisters and I remained close.
Although we all married, had children, and lived quite a distance from
one another, we still managed to see each other especially on holidays and for
family events. Although each of us
certainly faced our own challenges, for the most part the three of us grew from
those experiences and we turned to one another often for comfort, compassion,
and companionship. It was during the
same eighteen year period that Kelly’s life was filled with turmoil and
tragedy. There were numerous failed
relationships. She endured a violent
marriage for many years and struggled to raise children in a myriad of
environments that often proved ill-suited for her and for them. To add to the instability, Kelly’s health was
also fragile. With life-threatening
diseases that always had a diagnosis but rarely had effective treatments, Kelly
managed to cope with life, but not much more.
During this tumultuous period of
time, my other two sisters and I would help her in ways that we could given the
demands on our own lives and the lack of proximity from her. Whether it was phone calls with offers for
assistance, or keeping her children for a period of time, or listening to and
encouraging her during a time of challenge, or just being available to help
with some aspect of her life, the three of us gave to our youngest sister
because we loved her. However, a pattern of behavior started to develop that
soon began to erode at the relationship between Kelly and each of us.
Regardless of what the situation
was in Kelly’s life and in spite of what one of my other two sisters or I did
in response to it or did not do, there was always a price to pay. A phone call to Kelly would turn into an
argument over what one of us did or said.
A monologue of self-pity would often turn into blame-filled accusations
and then full-on rage. Screams of how the
three of us always abandoned her,
excluded her, and neglected her flowed from her lungs quickly followed by a
slamming down of the phone. Other times,
when we met in person, the exchanges would start off with a level of calm and
civility. But one mis-perceived comment would lend itself to a flood of ‘poor
me’ scenarios with angry bursts of ‘you
don’t care and you’ve never been there for me’ heating up the room. And as
time wore on, it also became a pattern that at the conclusion of one of these
dramatic episodes, Kelly would inform the three of us that she wanted nothing to do with us...we were disowned.
And so it would be, that for a
period of time – perhaps a few weeks or a few months or even a year or so - I
would be one of three sisters. Then, because we felt sorry for Kelly, or the
holidays were approaching, or the dynamics of the family pulled on our guilt
strings, one of my other two sisters or I would give Kelly a call – to
apologize. It never went really
well. It was like walking a tight-rope,
trying to stay balanced and focused while someone is shaking the wire. But,
typically, the mission was accomplished and our rejoining as four sisters stood
for a time, although neither of my sisters nor I expected the connection to
last. As this unhealthy dynamic
continued throughout the years, my two sisters and I felt its burden upon
on. The constant expenditure of energy
that it took to navigate through the relationship with Kelly was exhausting and
exasperating. Never being able to do enough or be enough for her was irritating
and defeating. And always being judged
by the last deed that was done for her and being told that it fell short in
some way was crazy making. Never knowing if we were in her favor or out and so
often not having a clue as to why, caused my sisters and I to withdraw and to
protect ourselves. It was just too hard.
Next time: Part Two: And Then We Were Three: Understanding Borderline Personality Disorder
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