Sister Coming to Visit for the Week

The last time my sister visited, it was for a week in September, when we had JUST finished moving it (yes, it took us months) and I was pretty exhausted. Things were dry and very warm after a long summer drought with fires everywhere and smoke being an issue. We watched a lot of TV shows and only got out to drive around maybe 2 days. She was dropped off at my door, and picked up the same way.

This time it’s spring, wet, and green. We have a lot more “done” around the house. I walk regularly to the near-by park, and will take my sister that way. She’s arriving by herself by train which is a big deal for her, but she has a LOT of help. (And it’s $250 cheaper than the door to door service I paid for!)

The massive fuss that Erica’s support workers are making, as well as my paranoid mother and anxious sister, is phenomenal. They’ve planned things down to the tiniest detail. My sister has a train attendant meeting her to help her out, so really, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but apparently, it IS to my mother and sister. But I’m not that worried. As long as Cat and I get there on time to meet her, everything’s all good.

I have a few more plans this week. More walking and more working with my sister on her planner calendar with reward stickers. I want her to start to feel proud about what she does and start to feel some mastery over her life. She’s really good with detailed order, so I’m trying to work with that.

My sister is autistic and “developmentally delayed” or “intellectually disabled.” Not badly– she’s mentally around 12-14 years old. With the autism, that means she can’t read facial expressions or tone of voice. She thinks all loud voices are angry, for example– even if people are cheering a game, she sees it as threatening. She expects the worst, and my paranoid and manipulative mother encourages that, of course– the better to keep her home with her, I’m sure!

But I’m essentially conspiring with Erica’s social and support workers to start teaching her more life skills in preparation for her to run her own home (nearby me here at Heron Hold) with just some help. I’m trying to get her as independent as possible before my mother passes. Our maternal parent has utterly failed at preparing Erica for when she’s gone. It’s sad, but the truth is my mother doesn’t really care. She wants to have Erica dependent on her for her own comfort, and when she dies — oh well, that’s for other people to take care of… And yes, I resent her for that. My sister will be devastated, naturally. I have to give her a hopeful vision of the future without my mother. I have begun talking about what happens when my mother is gone (or, possibly, when she goes to a care home and they sell the house they own together…)

Step by step, inch by inch, we’re preparing her. Getting Erica comfortable with Heron Hold and being around me and Cat is essential. And helping her find fun and feel secure here means she’ll transition more smoothly to life here later.

Which calls for me to have a great time with her while she’s here. That isn’t always easy. I have to watch my vocal volume carefully– just raising my voice a little (even, say, to call a cat!) will make her walk away and cry. She gets worked up over strange things, often people just being human overwhelms her terribly. The quiet atmosphere of Heron Hold is very soothing to her. She currently lives in a very busy and crowded suburb of Portland, and has found ways to deal with that (including noise-cancelling headphones) but it’s a struggle every day. When she gets here, she’s always stressed out and worked up by the trip. Her anxiety and melt downs stress me out. I’m not used to her being like this. She didn’t used to be so… fragile and/or manipulative. Helping her relax and stop being quite so serious and dramatic is my biggest task while she’s here.

However–! I know how to make her laugh, and how to tease her in such a way she giggles and teases me back. Apparently, no one else can do that with her. Not one person. I’m the only person she lets cut her hair or do her nails or anything like that. She hates being touched– very autistic in that way– but it’s okay if I touch her. Growing up together made that okay for her. So I help her grooming whenever we get together. Her support workers have realized that Erica is best off with the one person who has that connection with her, and I’m relieved because those relatives that want to take over her money and stick her in a group home will try to prevent my plans for Erica’s future from taking place. Just because they hate me (though I never did anything to any of them!) I expect trouble.

Momentum counts. Starting plans now and working on them means it will be easier later.

But I’m not going to lie. This is going to be a rough week. Not as bad as last September. She’s been here before and will be more relaxed this time. Once she’s done the train trip, it won’t be as intimidating. I have more things to do and I’m not on the brink of depression like I was then. Still… by next weekend, I expect to be socially exhausted.

This whole thing is hard. It doesn’t feel good. But it’s the right thing to do for an innocent person who can’t live without help. It’s not like I don’t get that. I can’t live without help either, though my issues are different. She doesn’t deserve the autumn of her life to be in misery just because our aunt and cousin hate me and don’t “get” her. A small part of me knows it would be easier for me to just roll over and let them take over like they want to… but I just can’t do it. Dealing with my sister is a huge pain in the ass, to be frank, but she’s also a super sensitive person with a huge imagination and inner life that few people appreciate. I can’t let that person, the one connection to me by blood left who genuinely loves me, not have a chance at a happy life. A small house of her own near me, getting to be a “grown up” — is her dream. I actually have the means to make that happen, and so I’m making a go at it. I may not succeed, but trying my damnedest is the only way forward I can allow myself. It doesn’t feel like a choice, despite the tiny part of me who protests at the inconvenience of it all, and feels sorry for me being in this position.

She’s my sister, and I love her, and therefore… I must move forward on this.