Sister Issues

Last weekend was the Fontana race.  Auto Club Speedway in Fontana, California was where I first fell in love with racing.  From the moment the engines started I was hooked. The roar, the noise, the smell of burning gasoline were all fascinating to me.  But what really drew me in was listening to the scanner.  Drivers are in constant communication with their team on the top of the pit box.  While at the track you can rent a radio and listen in to your hearts content.  It was the intricacies of the sport that clenched it for me.  I was a racing fan. 

My sister bribed me to go to that race.  She had been watching the sport for a good 6 months. I was around while she watched and had become acquainted with the teams and drivers.  She wanted to go to the race so badly but didn't want to go alone.  She offered to pay for the tickets if I would just go with her.  So rarely does she want to go out, I readily agreed. 

While we sat on the couch last week, watching the race, I wanted to share my memories of Fontana with her. 

"You know what I remember about driving home from Fontana?"

"How wet we were?" she responded.  No, I didn't remember that.  She proceeded to tell me how much it rained and how we only stayed dry because she bought ponchos for us.  After a few minutes, I tried again.

"You know what I remember about driving home from Fontana?"

"How fast you were driving?  it scared me."  She again tried to finish my thought with her own.  No, I didn't remember that until she mentioned it.  She again proceeded to tell me all about how I was driving like a mad woman and got mad at her when she tried to tell me what freeway to take.  My car was only a few weeks old then.  You bet I was driving fast.  I waited a few more minutes, and tried a third time.

"You know what I remember about driving home from Fontana?"

"How stupid you felt for signing up for that timeshare presentation?"  For a third time she shared her own memories thinking I had similar thoughts.  I listened, not feeling the same way at all. 

I didn't try again and she never asked.  Ever.

Later that evening I called my little sister and told her all about it.  "You know what I remember about driving home from Fontana?"  I asked her after laughing about the story.  "I don't know.  What?" She asked me.

How happy I was.  That is what I remember.  I loved that I had a good day with my sister. I loved the racing. I loved the gasoline smell and the tires and the engines.  I loved that I had something new to learn about.  I loved how excited I was about something.  I had felt so dead for so long and now I had something new.  I drove home with a huge smile on my face.

The gravity of the exchange hit me the next day.  She doesn't care what I remember.  It was all about her and what she remembered.  After three failed attempts at trying to share with her I shut down.  I felt sad, but more than that I felt rejected and unimportant. I felt that somehow I was someone she tolerated but didn't care about.  I wonder if she feels that way about me? 

At that moment, my mind was made up. I will do whatever it takes to not live with her anymore once our lease is up.  I don't care about the financial or social consequences for her or for me.  That means I will be moving.  I will set up the boundary and support my own emotional health. Another great opportunity to practice boundaries on steroids.  I guess.  But this one feels sad.