Letter 15 • The Space Between Sisters
Surviving sisterhood is such a feat. We’re in a better place now—not perfect—but learning how to like each other as adults.
From an early age, my older sister learned that she could take advantage of people and get away with bad behavior. Once she broke the first “forbidden” rule in our house, there was no turning back. “Live free or die” was the first tattoo she got—unbeknownst to my parents until after the fact—marking herself separate from us, her first step toward being free.
She made sisterhood hard. Her fight for freedom turned into such loud delinquent behavior that I made myself invisible.
Those who knew my sister couldn’t help but point out how different we were. She was always ahead of the pack trend-wise, fashion-wise, music-wise. Whatever “it” was in high school, she had it. And she knew it.
She was also the kind of person who, if she didn’t get what she wanted, acted as if she’d never wanted it in the first place. You could never win.
It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control. My sister was in and out of psychiatric centers, running away for weeks at a time, leaving chaos behind wherever she went. Her absence was more suffocating than her presence.
I read a bunch of books, trying to understand what was happening to her. None of the girls in those books reminded me of my sister. I kept looking for answers that never seemed to fit.
My parents were so wrapped up in trying to stabilize her life that I learned to manage (if that’s what you want to call it)—or maybe just internalize my own needs. I was functional, which everyone mistook for fine.
Our family of four couldn’t sustain the impact of her erratic and dangerous behavior. Eventually, everyone started doing their own thing with the agreement that when she surfaced, we’d let the others know.
Shockingly, my sister survived her decades of shenanigans. We often worried she wouldn’t. Sadly, my parents didn’t live long enough to fully experience her on the side of okay.
Since reuniting, my sister and I have started being a little more “sisterly” again. Although it felt weird when she recently said, “I love you, little sister.”
I failed to respond in kind.
She followed it with, “It’s okay. I know you love me too.”
She’s not wrong. I do.
I guess my sister and I were never built for ease. We were soldiers on the battlefield of love—burned, battered, but still here. And maybe that’s the truth of sisterhood: not something you hold with certainty, but something you survive long enough to understand.
I’ve learned this much: don’t hold on to things that require a tight grip. My family tried to hold my sister as tightly as she’d allow, but we were forced to let go, hoping she’d return to us safe and sound. I guess what I’m trying to say is that some bonds aren’t meant to be gripped at all. They’re meant to loosen, stretch, and soften—until love can exist without the constant fight to prove it.
Amy
shredsister#2
This letter was inspired by the book Shred Sisters by Betsy Lerner
A few lines slipped directly from its pages:
“Live free or die”. The first tattoo my sister got “marking herself separate from us, her first step toward being free.
We were soldiers on the battlefield of love, burned, battered, but still here...
She learned that she could take advantage of people and get away with bad behavior.
I made myself invisible.
Always ahead of the pack trend-wise, fashion-wise, music-wise.
If she didn’t get what she wanted, she acted as if she’d never wanted it in the first place. You could never win.
Her absence was more suffocating than her presence
Don’t hold on to things that require a tight grip.
I love you, little sister.” I failed to respond in kind. She continued, “It’s okay, I know you love me too”.
Short Content Brew
Reading this book felt like a short, chaotic road trip with family. You know how it is—riding with people who know exactly how to get under your skin. Experiencing laughter, tension, silence, and old memories, all while sharing the same cramped space.
This story reminds you that loving family isn’t about smooth rides. It’s about knowing when to keep going and when to pull over, stretch, and breathe.
The Cup We’d Share
Here’s to a brew for conversations that don’t need a destination—just room to unfold.
A Sip of Familiar Ground
Tea Blend: Vanilla Chai Rooibos
(Rooibos + Cinnamon + Cardamom + Vanilla)
Flavor Note: Warm and grounding with gentle spice—comforting without being heavy, familiar without asking you to forget what came before.
Reflection:
What relationships feel better when you give them space instead of pressure?
Where could a pause bring more ease than pushing through?
Why This Letter?
I don’t have sisters (at one point, I tried to get my parents to deliver me a sister, an unsuccessful effort)—but I have brothers. That said, I know what it’s like when one sibling needs more attention than the others. Sometimes that attention is necessary. Sometimes it’s exhausting. And sometimes it leaves you wondering where you fit in.
Family alone comes with its own set of complications. Sibling-hood? That’s another level entirely—especially when brothers and/or sisters are complete opposites.
This letter is for anyone who learned early how to make room for someone else while quietly figuring themselves out.
That’s the sip I’ll leave you with today.
Thanks for reading—until the next letter.
P.S. If this letter made you pause or look twice, feel free to pass it along. —I always love hearing what lingers.
