Yoga is good for the body. And the mind. And the soul. It’s just all-round goodness. Except when my back starts doing spasms in the midst of trying to wind down from all the stretching exersizes. I’m good at that breathing thing, though, having done so many different kinds of breathing exersizes back in high school vocal class and choir and stuff.
I got home too late to phone. Tomorrow I’ll give them a call, then. Got Jay to phone about his thing, he has to call again tomorrow morning for details or something like that. Maybe I’ll go lie down. Yes, I know it’s only 9:30, but I feel exhausted. The more sleep I get lately, the more tired I am.
My younger brother phoned the other day. I didn’t talk to him, I was napping and missed the phone… he left a message, saying he might be buying a car. I’d love for him to come visit me, since I won’t go back to where he lives any more, since he and my younger sister live with the ex-father. I’d like to get a chance to talk to him, one-on-one, and explain to him exactly why I don’t call their house and talk to his father any more… I don’t know how he’d react to finding out what dead dad did to me a few years back, I know the stepmother told me I was lying and promptly started trying to make us back into a family again. I’ve told her many times over that it’s not going to happen. I’ve tried all sorts of different ways to get her to believe me when I say this. Now I just ignore her, and hope to whatever deity people choose to believe in that nothing is happening to my younger sister.
That’s really the only unfinished part of everything… I’ve been dealing with myself as a survivor for years now – I know my triggers, I know what my boundaries are, I can recognize when my reactions are based on past experiences rather than what’s going on now. I am who I am, maybe not because of my childhood, but it’s certainly helped shape how I deal with things, how I take care of myself, and what matters to me. I’m a lot stronger than I look, I’m not going to fall apart any time soon. But I get worried when I think about my sister.
I can’t emotionally deal with doing anything court-related, but she still lives with him, and since I have almost no relationship with her (I’ve never been close to my siblings, really,) I can’t just start casually talking to her… by now, the stepmother (her birth mother, since she’s my half-sister) has created an image of me as a black sheep, someone who lies and ignores the rest of the family because she hates them all or something. If nothing is happening (and nothing happened with my older sister, so that is a possibility,) then she’ll hate me for suggesting such things about her dad. If something is happening she may or may not realize it (I never really knew what was going on,) and she may still hate me, or ignore me, or think I’m lying. And besides, I never talk to her, and for that to be the first thing I say when I get a chance…
Excuses, all, and I know it, but there are so many emotional levels to this that I can’t express in words. It’s not that easy to walk up to your younger sister, who is nearly a stranger to you, and say, “Oh, has dad ever touched you in sexual ways or anything? He did with me, and I was just worried about you. Would you like some sugar in your coffee there?” It’s easier to talk to a stranger about it than someone you care about. I learned that years ago.