Love & Trust Between Sisters
by Kathrine LaFleur • San Francisco, CA

My sister jumps out of the closet at me, roaring and shaking her arms and head. I shriek, thenbegin to cry. Before I opened the closet door, she had called to me, "Come quick, I’m stuck in the closet. There’s a big hairy spider in here! It’s getting closer!" I had not believed her at first, but she kept pleading. She sounded afraid and sincere. Fearing for both of us, I opened the door.

If mutual loyalty and trust were a part of the sister relationship from the very beginning, we would go about growing up with a lot less pain. Often, a young child who suddenly becomes an older sibling has too many emotions wracking her soul to be able to concentrate on developing trust with her baby sister. Her trust has just been violated– the world has been snatched from her hands by a needy, red-faced creature.

If I had not expected trust to stretch across the distance between myself and my sister and grow into unshakable shielding and love, I would have enjoyed one of the most issue-free childhoods in history. But the moment I realized I had an older sister, I found myself celebrating that there was another person who would guide me loyally through this world. I set about building a monument for my lovely big sister. I placed marble under her feet to raise her above everyone and everything. I expected compassion, gentleness and understanding from her.

Instead of taking on this role of greatness, I think my sister would have preferred to stuff me in a box and shove me under the bed. I never expected resentment from her, but that was what changed her from a loyal big sister into a frightening, hairy, eight-legged trickster. I was hurt, and felt betrayed. On some level I knew my sister was torn between loving and detesting me, and so I tried to find ways to restore her stolen world so that she would love me, while pretending her loyalty to me was as solid as the marble monument beneath her feet. The most effective way to do this seemed to be to smother any frustration and anger I felt in relation to her. I learned not to cry at Easter time when she found more eggs than I did. Tears would only prompt my parents to make my sister hand over her own eggs, and she would hate me even more. If she played too hard on me during a one-on-one volley ball game, or told lies to trick me, what right did I have to complain of cruelty or injustice? Hadn’t I taken everything from her in the first place?

As we became older, having me around seemed to become more bearable for my older sister. More and more she began to tolerate my following her around, and to engage me as a playmate. At some point between Junior High and college graduation, she started more than just tolerating me; she started supporting me.

This support came at a time when I was struggling with jealousy towards my younger sister who, like in the fairy tales, seemed to me to be the most admired of all three sisters. We would be together as a family– mom, dad, and three girls, and someone would say what a terrific little actress my younger sister was. My older sister would quietly remind us that I also had a flair for acting, and that I’d been showing interest in it longer than my little sister had. She would omit the fact that she was the first of all three of us to venture onstage.

My younger sister had caused disruption in my life, just as I had for my older sister, and I felt I was in danger of being swept out of the little corner I had secured for myself in the family storeroom of love and attention. In the midst of the rage and jealousy caused by the attention my younger sister won over me, my older sister’s speaking up for me but never for herself helped hold me together. That was the salvation I depended on in my adolescent world.

After college, the support I had learned to depend on suddenly gave way. It was missing when I stepped off the Bible, trying to reach a new God. My sister balked at my Tarot cards, and scorned the shops with Buddhas and angels swimming in sweet incense and candlelight. I was afraid to let her see my interest in rituals and spells, thinking she would run away from me entirely.

My big sister relapsed to eight years old, it seemed, and my trust was betrayed yet again. My disappointment rushed in to crumble the marble beneath her feet. As she tumbled from the pedestal I had set her upon, I found that she was simply human, hurt, unable to give me all that I expected and thought I needed from her.

It took a while to realize that I can find what I need elsewhere, and that what was essential wasn’t being accepted and loved by my sister, but loving and accepting myself. I began to see that winning another’s esteem is not worth smothering my own joys and passions in exchange. And I see that while I can trust my sister to love me, I don’t get to write the rules of this love.

Now, as a beginning teacher, my sister is entering into an area that is foreign to her but familiar to me. It would be nice if I were there to cheer her on through the rough spots. But considering the number of times she let down my expectations, why should I give her any sort of encouragement?

I suppose it’s because I understand now that we are not always able to live up to the expectations of those we love. When that happens, it isn’t fair to let blame or resentment fester and poison the relationship. In supporting her, I get to act on forgiveness. Mostly, above all, I love her, and in the rules I’ve written for me, loving includes giving support when it’s needed, not letting it be impeded by childhood issues.

Kathrine LaFleur has a BA in psychology from Bryn Mawr College. She teaches
Kindergarten and loves dancing, eating, hiking and reading. You can email her at kfleur@earthlink.net