Sister Claire


Through being entirely deprived of proper care after she was born and moreover being asked to care for her, despite a severe handicap of being kneed in the crotch by my brother, I learned a life of service for others which was deepened through having a relationship with a Black young woman from Harlem, New York; a scholarship student; at Kent School, a premier boarding School in Connecticut. She was given preferential treatment over me in a siituation where we both needed help and only one of us could get it. This was also fostered in general by the mores of Kent School, a Christian, college Preparatory Boarding school, one of the top such schools in the nation.

My mother sent my cat to the road at the back of this old farm property to be killed. At the time I sensed this but was afraid to say it. I had never lived in a neighborhood where I belonged and the animals were knitted together as I see here now and I can figure what happened. I was always lost in a book.

My sisters horse had died and I was sent to Hell for offering them COMPLETELY WELL-INTENTIONED ADVICE about calling fIrst to tell her they would be there to pick her up at Smith College in Massachusetts instead of just taking off to drive 7 hours without a thought and that they should get something to eat.

They took that advice and when Claire got upset, they blamed me.

I will note here that Claire generally got the benefit of psych inyervention for me where it was too late for me; and took this for granted; such as being asked to do some cleaning and the like, which was recommended by the nurse therapist for me at the state hospital. I became homelss; she got the benefit. This was par for the course there. Just as she had always moved into my rooms. And this was a similar situation.

So, next thing I know my mother is telling me Dorian the cat is missing and it doesnt look good. 3 days later she says the neighbor saw a cat by the bridge at the end of the property. That they went to see and it appeared to be him. That they scraped up the remains and buried them.

She peered at me to see if there were any tears.

8 years later I was on a psych ward here a couple of years after my baby was born and I was still desperate about Dorian the cat.

And my husband is a Scot of Clan Chattan, the clan of the cat.

I loved that cat. He left his brother Thomas. The two of them had been separated when I took Thomas with the mother cat Daisy to an apartment in West Lawn after getting out if the state hispital for the last time. And they werent able to reunite, Dorian stayed dusty and rural, Thomas had got a touch of the town life.

I couldnt handle things like that at that time. Life happening.

But, I was already dealing wilith a horrific situatuon happening at the state hospital that I left behind in my head when I left for Texas; and then California, with Alex. Something that happened in the Lodge Program psych ward at thevstate hospital. Dorian’s death and my mothers animosity towards me over perceived harm to my sister piled up on top of that in a way I couldn’t handle and after that I was desperately miserable and COMPLETELY PREOCCUPIED with the problem of how to accomplish committing suicide. It was all that I thought about. All of the time. Looking up the lethal doses of my medicine, Tegretol, and how much I needed and how to get it. Taking random small overdoses of Haldol, sort of like cutting.

I was so ill.

So, yes. That is the truth about my state of mind when supposedly i harbored thoughts of harm to my sister, I never even thought about her. The Lord was trying to keep ME ALIVE.

When we moved into the apartment in Texas, it was beautiful. But my first thought was, I can commit suicide here! Then, in California, I told Alex I wouldnt drop the process that was continuing to form around the incident at the state hospital about the female patient there who got me in troube. And that has come back to me again RECENTLY. AFTER 34 YEARS.

So, my sister needs to live her own life again and stop blaming me.

I have my own issues.

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