I’ve been having bad dreams lately. Dreams where I am more gutsy- more resilient- than I am in real life. Many of them, if not most of them, involve my sister, “E”. Even typing the word “sister” in reference to her makes me feel disgusting, as if admitting it out loud, or even via computer, is shameful.
Her inability to accept me shakes me to my core. Why? Why do I care? Some days I don’t, and other days it all comes tumbling down like a pile of bricks. I see her as an embodiment of all my fears- the physical manifestation of the rejection I've felt forever even though it has no logic.
Rejection, in any shape or form, from my biological family just hurts me more than I can ever say. It is my biggest fear, it is my most powerful phobia. Logically, I know that the initial rejection, my adoption, had nothing to do with me.
Why doesn’t that make me feel better..?
I have gotten better with my rage. I no longer hate her passionately, I no longer feel ill with anger just at the thought of her. I never knew that I could feel such emotions. I never knew that I could be so awful. It scared me, I think, to feel such anger at someone whom I was supposed to love.
I’ve never let myself feel these emotions. I buried them for years. I know why I was placed for adoption. I know my birth family. I know why my birth sister doesn’t want to know me , I know that it has very little or nothing to do with me as a person. I know all about it. I know everything. But knowing doesn’t help me.
Somewhere, deep inside, their rejection stings. It doesn’t matter that it had nothing to do with me when I was a child, that it isn‘t really about me now. Nothing will make it go away. Why? I have no idea.
In my dreams, I am angry. I confront my sister, I shove her a little bit. I demand to know what her problem is. I demand that she get over it. I tell her every nasty, hurtful thing that I’ve ever thought in my mind. In my dream- there is no regret, there are no consequences for my actions. In my dream I don’t wonder what I did wrong, where things went sour. I am powerful, I am resilient, I am strong- outraged at this betrayal. In my dream I am pure rage- never tiring from fighting a battle I never had a chance at winning.
Then I wake up, and all candor and belligerence float away. I am no longer gutsy, enduring, or potent. I am the hurt child- the child who is sure that if I blink, if I do one thing wrong, they will disappear again. I am the sister who hurts, who is angry and insulted, and who would never have the audacity to be mean. I am the sister who waits quietly for acceptance, knowing it may never come. I am the sister who is not sure if I will ever be able to love her again, trust her again. I’m the sister who wakes up and wants to go back and dream again- to escape to a place where we have no regrets.
