During this time, no one had to deal with her endless drama, intoxicated episodes, getting kicked in and out of friends and family membersâ homes, rescuing her from the latest abusive boyfriend and her incessant calls to 911 followed by a suicide threat in order to get herself into the psyche ward for a place to stay for few days. Much of this drama played out in my parentâs lovely brick home on a quiet tree-lined street in a picture-perfect Midwestern suburb.
After she was released, she was ordered to stay sober as part of her parole, and after just four months out, she relapsed and was thrown back in for another months. This stint mainly consisting of some sort of prison rehab. My sister has been in rehab so many times over the past 15 years, she could probably teach every course. Itâs just too bad she doesnât have the sobriety to back it up.
My sisterâs addiction and eventual incarceration have prevented her from doing anything with her life; she never finished college, has no discernible skills, and has never been able to hold down even a minimum wage job for longer than a few months. I look at her and see so much wasted potential. Children of college-educated business people with means and resources are not supposed to end up like this.
She was released a few days ago and is back living with my parents on the condition of sobriety, so itâs only a matter of time until she gets kicked out. My sisterâs 9-year-old daughter bears witness to all of this because my parents have custody of her. They recently formally adopted herâa status that cannot be revokedâafter coming to terms with the fact that my sister will never be capable of providing for her own daughter. My nieceâs father, a man my sister barely knew, has never been in the picture.
The fact that my parents allow my sister in and out of her daughterâs life, and the fact that they brought my niece to visit my sister in prison, are a constant source of tension between my parents and me. This is just one of the many challenging dynamics within families of addicts and ex-consâdisagreement over enabling the addict, boundaries, co-dependency, and denial. Oftentimes the family is at odds with one another over how to handle the addict. In my family, it has led to secrecy at times on the part of my parentsâthem not wanting to tell my brother and me things for fear that weâll just criticize how theyâre handling it.
I really do work at how I communicate my frustrations with them so as not to make them feel worse, but when it comes to my niece, this can be hard. How can they not see the psychological damage this is causing her? Why do they sometimes seem to put my sisterâs well-being ahead of their granddaughterâs?
As a mother now myself, I have a better idea of the horrible position theyâre in and the anguish they must feel watching their child go through a life of turmoil and suffering, but itâs still hard to witness the impact on a child so young. Upon hearing news that mommy would be coming home for awhile, my nieceâs response was that she didnât want her mommy coming home. And while she loves her grandparents dearly, she has frequently told me that she wishes I was her mom. These are truly heart-breaking moments, and I have to be honest, Iâm never sure how to respond.
Over the years my relationship with my sister has gone from estranged to cordial to strained and back again. Today, Iâd say it is strained mainly because I, like my parents, am just waiting for the other shoe to dropâfor her to show up somewhere intoxicated and start the whole downward spiral. I wish I could be more optimistic, but history shows itâs only a matter of time.
Itâs hard to talk to my sister because every time she walks back into our lives, she acts as if nothing has happened. She wants to get chummy again with everyone and takes offense if someone is hesitant or standoffish. Sheâll also use that treatment as an excuse for relapse.
Iâm not sure exactly how to talk to her now or how I even feel about her. Certainly, itâs hard to relate to her; we have little in common anymore. In high school, I excelled at sports and schoolwork, went off to college, moved to a big city, built a career, married a great guy, and waited to have children until I was financially and emotionally ready. I guess I did everything I was supposed to do.
Her life after 16 took a polar opposite path. Iâve witnessed and felt the endless pain she has caused my parents, the toll her life choices have had on my niece. I see the wasted potential. I feel the shame and embarrassment of having to hide this part of my family. I have to skirt around talking about her knowing that most people canât relate and will likely judge my family for her behavior.
I know my sister feels immense shame too, but I donât always sense that. At this point, I think her way of life almost seems normal to her. Chaos seems to follow wherever she goes, or more likely, she creates it. I see her consistently exhibiting the same patterns of behavior, and the outcomes are always the same, always disastrous. It is extremely hard to have a relationship with someone like this. It is extremely hard to trust someone like this. It is extremely hard not to hold a lot of resentment toward someone like this.
Whatâs equally infuriating is that sheâs very open about the fact that she was âlocked up,â as she calls it. Iâve had to remind her that thereâs a stigma associated with having been in prison. Telling the neighbor with little kids is probably not a good idea. In fact, itâs really bad judgment and only ends up hurting her daughter. My sisterâs mentality is less like a 30-year-old womanâs and more like an adolescentâsomething that Iâve learned can happen to addicts who begin using at a young age; they almost become paralyzed in the emotional state at which they became addicted.
For many years, I kept even her addiction a secret. I seriously donât even think my work colleagues of eight plus years knew I had a sister. I just didnât talk about her. In my world, brothers and sisters are usually close, and they have similar degrees of success and values. Most women I know might even describe their sister as their best friend. I never had that. Pretending like I do takes an incredible amount of energy, so Iâve found itâs best to just not broach the topic.
Her incarceration is a whole other level of shame, though. Mentioning to someone that my sister has addiction issues doesnât seem so bad anymore, and honestly itâs not. Millions of people struggle with alcoholism and addiction, and I am in awe of those I encounter whoâve overcome it. Telling someone that your sister is or was in prison, though, is quite another story. Itâs the kind of thing people pass judgment on. I certainly would if it werenât my family.
With the holidays approaching, everyone is particularly on edge, especially my parents. My husband and I are hosting Thanksgiving, and obviously we want my parents to be there, but this means my sister has to come. For many years in my family, holidays have gone one of two ways: either nerve-wracking when my sister is in the picture, because there is always an episode, or with a shadow over them when we have to make up a lame excuse for why she isnât thereânot to mention the sadness watching my mother spend the entire time depressed because one of children is, once again, not there.
I cannot tell you how jealous I am of other families for whom the holidays are just fun. For us, âthe most wonderful time of the yearâ is something we dread and cannot wait to get over with. Dealing with an addict day to day is certainly no picnic, but thereâs something about holidays, watching other families just being able to enjoy themselves without a care in the world that makes our situation feel that much harder.
Despite the challenges, I have to admit the situation could be worse. I canât imagine what my nieceâs life would be like if her grandparents didnât have the means and wherewithal to step in when they did. I donât think my sister would be alive today if sheâd had parents whoâd abandoned her or hadnât been able to pay for so many stints in rehab.
Sheâs sober and safe today. I think we as a family have learned to cherish that simple blessing and, despite the odds, still hold out a little hope for the best. Â