Can’t ever keep from falling apart…

Last night was dreadful. I’d spent the day exercising and eating canned foods. Late at night while I was in the bathroom, I heard someone acting hysterical on the other end of my dad’s landline phone. (He uses the speakerphone due to his near-total deafness.) I had a bad feeling when I exited the bathroom. The call ended rather abruptly and I asked who it was. He said it was Ellen. She’s my evil sister.

It was horrifying to hear her losing it. She’s very emotionally immature in the sense that she gets hysterical a lot. I do too, but the problem is that she’ll become violent. Now that I’m no longer in a position to be her chief punching bag, I’m afraid the honor will pass to her daughter, Li’l Sweetmeats, who’s 18 months old.

It was triggering. There used to be a lot of emotional upsets in my family. There’d be hysteria, screaming, name calling, violence, histrionics, panic, and extreme negativity. Sometimes the police would be called. I hate seeing vulnerability in my sister but the truth is that she’s very unhinged. Not in a mentally ill sort of way, but more of an emotionally immature sort of way.

I remember once she came up here to my room and begged me to get her unplugged, dangling curling iron out of her hair. It was stuck there. She was a weepy mess. I prefer to remain calm in those sorts of situations because there’s a lot of emotional pain associated with coming undone. Oddly, if I come undone, I’m okay with that. If my mother and/or my sister comes undone, I feel terrified, hopeless, overwhelmed by their vulnerabilities, and like life is horrific. I hate that feeling. At their cores, my mom and my sister are very vulnerable and raw and messy. I don’t like that.

I told my dad that Ellen was getting closer and closer to becoming an abusive parent. He got mad and insisted that I’m engaging in paranoid delusions. I accused him of being knee-deep in parental denial. He kept claiming I’m being ludicrous, that there’s nothing to worry about. I told him I can’t handle ever meeting Li’l Sweets because as soon as I care about her, I’ll want to kidnap her to protect her, and then I’ll wind up in federal prison. He complained that he wants to have his granddaughter come over to our house, and I told him that was fine as long as he could give me notice to move out first. (Not that I have anyplace else to go.) He said I should be able to run errands so Li’l Sweets could come over. I said I’m not willing to risk it, and since we don’t use cellphones, it would be too risky that I’d come home and see the ugly little brat. He said she’s not ugly. I explained that I’m trying to dislike her so I won’t care about her, as a self-protective mechanism. He insisted that I shouldn’t blame Li’l Sweets for who her mom is, and I insisted that I’m not doing that. He doesn’t get it. I have to put myself first here, or I’ll go to prison.

Basically, there’s going to come a point when Ellen becomes abusive. Hopefully no one will ever breathe a word of it to me because my hands will be tied. As soon as I report her to CPS, she’ll explain that I’m schizophrenic and that she’s a reputable social worker, and that will be that. There’s nothing I can do to protect my niece. Nothing. She’s going to be abused, and I can’t protect her. So I can only look out for myself here.

I hate being misunderstood. All the people in my family who see it from Ellen’s perspective don’t understand what it’s like to be the victim of repeated assault over the years. She has this diabolical way of seeming normal and good to others while openly admitting to me (when no one else is within earshot, of course) that I’m her personal punching bag, and that she regrets how she sometimes has to “get physical” with me.

And she’s eight years younger! Growing up with her was the easy part. Being siblings as adults has been pure hell. She outgrew me when she was eight and I was sixteen.

For years–decades–I kept trying to see the best in my sister and to give her the benefit of the doubt, and to assume that she was taking baby steps toward betterment. Then I finally just got sick of the charade and gave up. It was pain, emotional pain, and anguish. My whole life would be happier without her in it.

At any rate, my dad apologized today. But I feel emotionally hungover. I’m just in a fog, so I’m not even trying to do anything but sit here. I haven’t taken a shower in a few weeks, and then I just quit caring. My hair is draped atop my head in clumps. It can stay that way.


The canned food diet is going great. One huge and unexpected plus is that canned food is filling. Who the freak knew? There’s no uncomfortable hunger at all. That’s been a problem in the past while I was trying to count calories, and also when I’ve tried eating other healthy foods. Eggs, for example, aren’t filling, even if I make four eggs, so it’s like eating empty calories. Why bother?

I had a slip-up this morning before my dad came home from lunch. I sneaked into his room and ate twelve of his small chewy cookies. I have very weak will power before I’ve woken up fully. I’m not going to let it derail me, and I doubt it’s a huge diet killer.

I mean, last night I was so distressed that I wanted to go on a junk-food binge courtesy of our local drugstore. I would’ve bought Pringles, Wheat Thins, a chocolate candy bar, and baked Lays. Oh, and ice cream and cookies. I talked myself down and made some popcorn. I really don’t mind if I snack; and in fact, I’m trying to work out how to do it in controlled moderation, which is major.

One idea is that I might get some muffin mix and bake myself a nice muffin every evening. I can’t really binge on them because it takes about twenty minutes to cook one in our toaster oven. (Slow motion bingeing?) I like that idea. I’ve just got to quit relying on snacks, bingeing, and eating snacks all day long. I think it’s all good.

Anyway, so far, I like:

  • potatoes
  • green beans
  • any fruit (no added sugar)
  • slivered beets (sort of)
  • corn
  • mushrooms
  • and I’m convinced I’m forgetting something… oh, yeah, podded peas

I tried chickpeas, and that didn’t work out.

So although I’m in a fog today, I guess my life is going okay, and my birthday’s in three days on Monday the 10th. YAY! My dad and I are going to the zoo, the local crystal shop, and the local kitty cat cafe. The last two places are around the corner and next door to each other. And then the zoo is within walking distance, but we’ll drive. There will also be ice-cream cake. I have a good feeling about turning 44. I think it’s a spiritual number somehow. I dunno. It sounds good. It looks pretty. I think it’ll be a nice age.

2 thoughts on “Can’t ever keep from falling apart…

  1. I’m glad that at least your dad apologized. Hopefully Ellen will find someone other than Li’l Sweetmeats, like her partner.

    Well done resisting the urge to junk food binge!

    Liked by 2 people

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