Why the sister hates me?

There is something between us. It is impeding us to connect for real. To me it feels like a barrier, a fence.

At least a week ago, each of us was sitting behind both sides of this fence and spoke to each other. We both don’t want…let me speak for myself though, I don’t want to lose the connection with her but the truth is:  I have no idea how can I connect with the sister.

After a rather bruising conversation, she completely outed me.

These are my thoughts and feelings about this, after having tried in different ways to communicate with her:

1.I am (sometimes) trying to fix the world but the world has to do it itself. In her case, since we have grown up together, played sometimes together, there has been this innate need, on my side, to always say, loudly or though my behaviour : Go! You can do this, why the hell do you even doubt it?! Go, Go Go. I’m here jumping up and down for you.

I feel that she tries to connect to the world through her mind, not her heart. Maybe there is a reason!

Maybe the reason is THE REASON why so few people choose to go through life ignoring  their heart. It hurts and they don’t know how.

I would like her to know, to experience even better, the easiness and the joy of a life, or a moment, when your heart (which doesn’t mean that you are stupid and people step on your head) is in charge. Things align, there is light, there is easiness in talking about yourself and your difficult moments, there is understanding and acceptance.

Here we go, the FIX IT mode again.

But, since I am an intuitive empath and this is my natural way of being. It means that I feel and know things that you don’t want to talk about. It is my responsibility actually to try to talk to you about those things.

But in her case, it may cause her feeling belittled and incapable.

So, Lovegenerator, hold your horses or change the direction. Just love her from distance.

Maybe she likes the wall between you, maybe it makes her feel safe and good. Just leave it there, continue playing in your head the one moment when she read to you from that thick story book, the book which you were still dreaming about understanding.

As far as I know, she has been living different kinds of life experiences, a different range I should say. She has her lessons to learn, you have yours. Please, refrain from saving her from the inevitable.

You can pave the way (as I already did!) but let her walk by herself. You have know your whole life that she can do it.

The story of a giant beetroot


2. I am naive and crazy enough to believe that other people are as ready as me to embrace the darkness, the pain, the “mistakes”.

The shit people don’t mention on their social media profiles. The shit the sister also does not mention. I am open to do that, to talk about it here for example, because I know how horrible it is to live with the fucking pain inside and try to be perfect. I was asked to do that during my first work experience, in the fashion industry. It mutilated me in …a beautiful way, let me say. I now understand a deep and  wide range of pains. This is one way of mine to connect to the downside world. The world where our shadowy and painful selves lounge.

Things happen when things happen. And the sister will not talk to me until she decides so.

3.Sometimes, my openness turns against me. As much as I would like people to understand that being open about your wounds, with the right persons, is only going to help you heal.

I can’t force that on anyone.

This is something to be done only after having the consent. Playing the mediator, a function I have been fulfilling since old days, the days when I was trying to reconcile my parents and explain what one actually wanted to say but did not find the right way and words, is not easy. It is dangerous actually, because your own familiars can turn against you. As it happened to me with the sister.

She doesn’t want to read about me and my thought here, on this pages, considering this blog a second source. I would like her to understand that this is actually the first source. This is my way of bleeding out that which I don’t understand. Trying to make sense of it. There is nothing more personal than this. I believe that the real meaning of what she is saying is – she is missing the kind of relationship, some, sisters have. Or friends. An intimate one.

Since I am passing for the monster in this story, the one who is playing Devil and Angel, the Almighty and the All Knowing, having done so for the past 25 years towards her, it is impossible to have such a relationship.

If we stop at what was.

Now, in the end of this communist style self criticism (which I endorse actually), if the sister is reading this, I want to tell her that all is good. I have known all my life that you can do anything you want. This reaction, the rupture is inevitable, taking into account that we have been living parallel lives for the last two decades. The only true moment of connection is the story reading. That was over 25 years ago.

The same with my mother. I have accompanied her only one time in my live, at 5 or less years, in a cafe. It was cold and she was visiting someone in Chisinau. She had to wait for a while, so she decided to wait in this cafe. I was over the moon happy. I have never entered such a place. She bought a glass of a yellow, sparkling drink, something like Fanta and opened a package of waffles and gave me one. One long, firm, sweet waffle.


That was, as well, over 25 year ago. Or maybe 250 years ago, or 2500 years ago.



A treat to last forever


Goodbye sister







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