“Sister of Mine”

Dealing with a toxic, manipulative, or cruel sibling is emotionally exhausting. When a sister acts horribly, it causes deep hurt because family ties make the behavior hard to escape. So many memories and yearnings co-exist between my mind and heart. When you say the details of a painful experience out loud to a friend, the hidden weight of a bad relationship suddenly becomes clear and impossible to ignore.

Knowing of my present struggles, cancer doesn’t even trigger compassion in my only sister.  Through years of therapy, I’ve learned so many terms while dealing with people who hurt me. And I’ve become way too educated on things like narcissistic abuse, coercive control and passive aggressive behavior.

Here is a letter I wrote yesterday…to my only sister.  My only sibling. It’s part of my healing and search for peace. After telling her of my cancer diagnosis, she blocked all avenues of correspondence. Yes, even my phone number. She will probably never see this, but I feel better sharing it.  And acknowledging that I deserved to be treated better.

So many people ask me about her.  It’s easier to share my letter in explanation.

Here it is:

​Dear Jeri,

As I try to figure out how to use google documents to type this, so many thoughts and feelings are swirling around my head. I’ve tried reaching out to you unsuccessfully. So this is my last resort.

It’s 2 in the afternoon and I hope to get this letter written before my cancer treatment in two hours.

The medication involved tends to make me overly emotional, overly anxious, …overly everything I guess. And then if I take pain medicine for the side effects, well that’s a whole other story. So I want to write you with the clearest of heads.

I’m grieving a dream. And you are the focal point. I started playing Canasta two years ago with a local group of such wonderful women. Two of the women I play with are sisters. It warms my heart so much to see their relationship. It is such a beautiful thing. I love watching them, listening to them, and seeing them interact. You are always in my thoughts. I miss what I never had.

They did not grow up with parents who played them against one another. They were not abused in any way by a mother who was a bully; and they did not have a father who looked the other way when they needed him. I think for us, the triangulation was the worst of what our narcissistic mother did to our relationship. She pitted us against each other because it threatened her existence if you and I were to become close in any way. So sad. No…tragic. It was tragic that we were raised that way.

As a child, I would stay in my room and cry. I would disappear into my books. You were always the stronger willed between us and never took shit from anyone - not even our mother. When you got older, you’d escape and go out at night. It never mattered that you weren’t allowed to. You were one tough cookie. And I was the wimp. I can’t even count how many times our father put me in a car with him in the middle of the night,stopping at 3 New Rochelle bars, and made me walk in to each one of them looking for you. It was horrible.

But you rebelled. I always submitted. You were tougher than me. Always. And still are. My life has always been guided by my heart. You were usually guided by anger and independence.

Imagine what our relationship would have looked like if we did not have such a dysfunctional family. If we had been united on holidays and normal days. If we had learned to lean on each other rather than feel such a tremendous detachment.

I hesitate going backward, but must address so much before I cannot. Perhaps writing what I wish I could say to you will bring me some peace. You see, I miss you. Or am I grieving a dream? I miss not having a sister.

But I wish I had the sister I always yearned for……

After you found out that I sent your son’s (then future) mother- in-law a sweatshirt I had tie dyed during COVID isolation, you went into full on rage mode over the phone. Stop playing victim.  Nothing was done TO YOU! The cursing and verbal abuse I had thrown at me was horrific. I tried defending myself but you were in full blown rage mode and could not hear or process anything at the time. In your explosive anger you even started screaming at me about things that happened when I was 7 years old and you were 4 years old on a swing! It was absurd and I now realize that you were totally out of control. But you brought up something that happened when I did something with a childhood swing - when I was a mere child. Sorry, but that’s a bit insane.

I wanted to tell you things that I remembered, but couldn’t get a word in.I wanted to tell you how much you have let me down and hurt me my entire life. Purposefully. Not when you were a child and didn’t know what you were doing or mean any of what occurred. I wanted to tell you how many times you had literally broken my heart as an adult. I’m taking this opportunity to share.

As our mother always played us against each other throughout our childhoods, there isn’t much I remember regarding my relationship with you. I know she locked us out of the house and made us go and play in the backyard…but I don’t remember much more than playing on the tire and building forts in the woods. But then we were teens….and you went with the tough kids, had a boyfriend, went to bars with your fake ID and was popular. I didn’t do those things. I read books and became an honor student. I had a boyfriend. But I never did anything but study with him. Remember how you made fun of me when you found out I was going to college as a virgin? I remember that. We were in your red and pink bedroom and you were telling me there was something wrong with me. And proudly told me you were “experienced.”

Some things I remember very clearly. Maybe as clearly as you remember the swing incident you yelled at me about. There is however a difference between the actions of a 7 year old and a teenager. I’m sorry that swing incident stayed with you all these years. I am sure I never meant to hurt you. Not even when you were so cruel to me. As we grew older, is that why you were always so mad? 

On the day I married Robert Levine, I knew our parents would not be there. Rabbi Wohl was even against it. But I asked you to be there with me. I bought you a dress and held it, waiting for you right up until the last minute. I still wanted my sister. I always did. I wish we would have had a conversation back then. But you just didn’t show up for me. And you didn’t even talk to me. You cut me off like our parents taught you to. Then Jason was born and you came back into my life to meet my son. 

You married Harry and I was your matron of honor. You never for a minute took the time to talk to me then either. You never acknowledged how hard that was for me when you had a huge country club wedding in Greenwich …As you danced with our father, I cried and felt my heart ache. I was happy for you, but that didn’t make it any easier.

I was struggling and perhaps you were, too. We were not close enough to tell each other. I wish we were. I was being abused by my husband and you were unhappy with yours. We never spoke of what we went through separately. Our parents found out about the domestic violence I was surviving and I went to live with them for 6 months, pregnant with Jared. I was so happy you got to see Jason more often and had hope you would be his special Auntie.

But still you and I never sat down and had a conversation. We shared nothing except a hello and goodbye. I wish I could turn back the clock and fix all that. Why did it have to be this way? Our mother still couldn’t have us both together in her life. She never encouraged us to be there for each other. It’s as though she couldn’t have more than one of us in her life at a time.

Life went on. I moved to Bedford with my 2 young sons and abusive husband. You continued on your own path with Harry until all of a sudden you weren’t together. But for a while, Jason and Jared brought us together. I credit Harry with that because he was so family oriented. It was good for a while, though superficial. You and I still never talked. Not the way I see sisters talk and best friends communicate. I wish we would have been closer. 

When you met Jimmy, you told me about that. I thought it was a start. You confided in me a little bit. And the day you got engaged to him, you came over with Oliver the puppy to show me your engagement ring. It was one of the most special moments I can remember with you. It was heaven for me. But that was short-lived. I wanted to meet Jimmy but you wouldn’t permit it. You married within a few months,on February 14th, and I was not invited. I was under such duress from all the abuse I was living with I never noticed that I never heard any of your wedding plans, etc. And just like that, our mother let me know you were married after the fact - and you did not even include me. Our mother was so evil that I believe she got off on how much that hurt me.

But I still wanted my sister.

One day, I picked up our grandmother to take her to get her hair done. As I was driving, she matter of factly told me you were in a car accident. It felt like my stomach fell out. I immediately asked for details. Do you know she said it had happened a month prior and no one had the decency to let me know? I would have been there for you. I would have helped you. Instead, when I did find out, you wouldn’t answer my phone calls.

Eventually, I wrote you a letter and that opened the door again. I visited you in Georgia with my sons. We were not close, but we knew where each other lived and stayed superficially connected for a few years. That ended when I needed help. I called you one night at 11 pm after one of the worst beatings of my life. I locked myself in the powder room of 11 Piping Brook Lane and dialed your number, the only person I thought I could lean on and confide in. Jimmy answered the phone. I told him it was important and apologized for calling so late. He put you on the phone. I told you what my then husband did to me. I was badly injured and told you how scared I was, that I didn’t know what to do. You quickly replied,“I don’t want to get involved.”

And then you hung up the phone. Silence followed. A silence you orchestrated to last over 10 years.

I am a domestic violence survivor. I say survivor proudly because not everyone makes it out alive. I've had dozens of surgeries to repair the damage done by Robert Levine. My fractured spine was repaired with a 6 hour operation, one week hospital stay, and 4 week rehab facility. I thought you’d come - but you didn’t and didn’t call. Damage to my foot was repaired from him slamming a door on it over and over again. I was in a wheelchair for a month. Never heard from you.

So I wrote you another letter. And we reconnected. I told you how our parents cut me off and out of their lives - citing my life was too messy. I went through a horrific divorce that took years. I lived in 3 domestic violence shelters and they would not assist me. Our mother said,“You made your bed now lie in it.” While I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, our parents were busy touring Europe. 

But before she cut me off again–as you know she did that several times over my life – our mother told me she was done with you, too. She said that your son had diabetes and she could not handle having a grandson with diabetes. She also told me that your husband, Jimmy, hated Jews and had said something terrible to our father about that.

Did it hurt when she cut you off, too? What kind of parent does that? An evil one. And our father was just as bad as he was complicit. For a while he called me collect from a payphone but then he got caught. And that was that.Unfortunately, I see alot of our mother in you. I’m being nothing less than honest here. You can’t see it because you don’t want to.

I have cried plenty over you. Or is it the dream of a sister that I still cry over? I have a rare blood cancer and am battling that without family. You used the fact that I made your son’s mother-in-law a sweatshirt to cut me off again. But if it wasn’t that, it would have been something else.

Whenever you needed me for my nephews - I was there. Yes, you sent me the airline tickets but I loved them so much and wanted to have an everlasting relationship with them. I will always be their Aunt Julie. I know for some sick reason that relationship threatened you. Whenever Scott would fly to NY on business and meet me for dinner, he had to hide it until he didn’t - and I heard you yelling on the phone to “stay away” from your children.

But when they had knee surgery, wisdom teeth pulled, etc., I immediately got on a plane, taking off from work to help out. Always. And I treasured each and every moment I was with them. And you.

I cannot put into words how much my visits to see you meant to me.  I appreciated each timeI came to Georgia. But you would never come and visit me - no matter how much I begged you. I also can't put into words how much it hurt when you wouldn't let me visit anymore.  And when you moved to a new home in South Carolina, you continued to say I wasn’t welcome to visit.

Until the last trip, more than 7 years ago….you started showing extreme anger then, too. Also mentioning that thing with a swing when we were children! We were in a restaurant and Jimmy told you to stop. I can go on and on….and write a book here. But for what? Well, if you read this - good. Understand that no one is perfect. Not you. Not me. And our relationship was predisposed by an abusive narcissistic mother.

We can do better and I would like to meet you halfway. We are the only 2 people that know how we grew up. Please break this cycle of family dysfunction.  What are you teaching your sons? That love is only conditional? And you’d cut them off,too.  I already heard that when they do something you don’t agree with, that you block their phone numbers as well. They are both adults now. Yet you still try to manipulate them.

You have done such extreme acts of cruelty in the last 4 years alone that I can’t wrap my head around them. Knowing how much I wanted to be a part of my nephews’ lives, you purposely do not invite me to their weddings? After knowing you are the only family I have. Scott actually called me up to uninvite me! He and I had been talking about the wedding for months and as his Aunt, I assumed I’d be there. You know how much that hurt when you coerced him into telling me you didn’t want me there. This isn’t like an incident with a 7 year old on a swing. This is a grown ass woman who knows her sister thinks the world of her nephews and wants to be a part of their lives.

Then I talked to you afterwards. Stupid me, you didn’t care that you broke my heart. For you did it again when Brian got married. Did you know that a few weeks before Brian got engaged, I was talking to him on the phone and his last words to me were “I love you.”  Now who makes their children do this to their Aunt? Do you really need to be in that much control? Are you that threatened of not being their focus. You are their mother. Period.

You got rid of Jimmy’s family like our mother got rid of our father’s ….now you got rid of me? Why? You invited your high school boyfriend to your sons’ weddings but not your sister? It’s insane. Because he could give them a big present? I’m still hurting over this and I bet you are happy about that.

I’m going through a tough time…I can hear you calling me a loser again…but I don’t choose my situation. It hurts to see you have no compassion. I miss what we could be. Even if it were to be just a weekly phone call of greetings and updates.

I’ll keep praying the ice around your heart melts and you learn to accept that you cannot control everyone and everything. I know that need for control is directly linked to your lifetime of an eating disorder.  It’s not healthy.  

And some things are not meant for you to take personally. Making your son’s mother in law a sweatshirt was not meant to upset you.  On the contrary.  It was an act of kindness from my heart.

Loving my nephews and wanting to be in their lives - should not upset you.

This was a lot for me to carry. I’m exhausted but glad I wrote this.  Even if you’ll never see it. I will probably be waiting to hear from you until my last breath.

I miss you.

I do remember glimmers of kindness in between all the hurt.  I’ll hold on to those.

With no way to reach you, this was all that’s left.

Your only sister,

Julie