Editor’s Note: So many of us look forward to Mother’s Day as a celebration of love and happiness. But for some, Mother’s Day is a bitter reminder of broken relationships. Dealing with children who can’t stand each other is heartbreaking on any day of the year, but on this day it has an extra sting. Have you faced a situation when grown sisters (or brothers) don’t get along? Let us know how you dealt with it in the comments!
Years ago, when I found out I was pregnant with my second child, I knew what I wanted fervently in my heart. There was none of this “Oh, I don’t care if I have a boy or a girl—I just want the baby to be healthy” stuff. I wanted a girl. More specifically, I wanted my older daughter, then age 4, to have a sister.
I got my second girl, and my daughter got a sister—and now it’s 20 years later, and they don’t like each other at all.
My Touchstone
When I was in sixth grade, my sister was a senior in high school. I used to carry her yearbook picture in my wallet—she was so glamorous, so pretty, so grown-up. I’d show it off to my friends. Six years apart, we never fought growing up, because she was almost in another generation, always ten steps ahead. I followed like a puppy behind her.
My older sister is my Person, my favorite person.
When she was 10 she started piano lessons, and I—age 4—insisted on them, too. She majored in journalism in college and got a job as a reporter; I worked my way through college in part via a writing gig and got a job in publishing right after graduating. (She switched careers after a few years; I, decades later, am still working with words.) For a couple of years, our jobs were in the same office building in New York City. Imagine the chances of that, all those buildings in the vast city, and we worked five floors apart, one of us at a law firm, the other at a publishing house.
She moved to Brooklyn; I moved to Brooklyn, five blocks away. She moved to Queens; I moved to Queens. She moved to Jersey; I moved to Jersey, two towns away. Then we both moved to the town in between us, and now we live a mile apart.
She is my Person, my favorite person. We talk almost daily and text multiple times a day. Our kids mistake us for each other. If we go to the same store at different times, we’ll often walk out with the same shirt. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I feel connected to her.
I wanted this for my daughters, but it hasn’t worked out that way.
Read More: Are Mother/Daughter Tattoos the Perfect Mother’s Day Gift?
In the Beginning
My favorite childhood photos of my daughters are the ones when they’re cuddled under a blanket together. Lucy, a sassy 6 year-old, posing for the camera and flashing a V with her hand—I know she was saying “Girl Power!”—and 2-year-old Becca looking up at her with great concentration as she tried and failed to get her fingers to do the same. The two of them lying opposite head-to-feet in Lucy’s bed, with Becca’s toes nestled under Lucy’s chin.
Photos like that break my heart. They weren’t the best of pals—being four years apart put them in different lifetime zones—but they curled up together watching cartoons, drew pictures together, piled into our bed at night with their stacks of books. They had the normal sister arguments, all with the undercurrent of “That’s not fair!” and the calculations of who was getting more and who was losing out.
A year ago, at ages 20 and 24, my daughters had a terrible, awful fight with long-ranging consequences.
My older daughter demanded more of the attention and got it. She was always highly verbal and talked over and through everyone else. She had some phobias and anxiety growing up that we needed to focus on; plus, she was the first so every parenting challenge seemed fraught. I worked full time, with an hour commute each way, and struggled to have enough time for each of them. Sometimes, the quieter child misses out.
Still, there was no unusual tension as they grew up. When Becca hit a stage that Lucy had already passed through (like the emo, black-eye-liner-tragic-music phase), Lucy had no patience for it, in that tendency we all have for disparaging what we’ve survived. She was quick with the biting comment; Becca was quick with the well-timed kick. When they each went through periods of depression and anxiety after their father died, it occasionally bonded them together but more often pushed them apart.
A year ago, at ages 20 and 24—both of them living at home—they had a terrible, awful fight with long-ranging consequences. Lucy, the wronged party in this battle, moved in with my sister for a while. I would stop in and see her in the morning before work, and she’d come by to see the pets when Becca wasn’t home. They each trash-talked the other to me; they each accused me of favoring the other. Caught in the middle, I could only keep repeating: You’re sisters, and at some point, you’ll want and need each other. Weeks passed, then a month, and beyond.
When Hurts Never Heal
Image: Daiga Ellaby/Unsplash
My mother-in-law wasn’t close to her sister, her only sibling, as they were growing up. She didn’t talk about her (and honestly, I didn’t like her much, so I didn’t ask), except for one story she told me soon after her son and I were married: When her mother had died 20-plus years before, her sister had made off with the linens, the lace tablecloths, and the damask napkins. “We never spoke again,” she told me. “I was so angry!” She clearly still was.
Would this big chill between Lucy and Becca turn into a frozen tundra, I wondered, too big to easily cross?
I asked her if, over the years, she’d ever been tempted to reach out to her. “Nope,” she said. “She stole the linens, my mother’s linens, right out from under me!” She pursed her lips and shook her head. It seemed so petty. Imagine not speaking to someone again because of an argument over fabric. They’re both dead now, never having reconciled. My husband and his sisters never had an aunt, didn’t get to hear her stories about their mom as a kid.
I couldn’t and still can’t imagine anything that my sister could do or steal or say that would make me stop talking to her. Would this big chill between Lucy and Becca turn into a frozen tundra, I wondered, too big to easily cross?
Perhaps a Thaw
About six weeks into the freeze, I got a text from each of my daughters, a minute apart. I saw Becca at the Toucan/I saw Lucy at the Toucan. The Toucan was the only hip coffee place in town, and it was kind of amazing that they hadn’t run into each other before. I called Lucy first. “It was okay,” she said. “We nodded at each other.”
When they’re ready, I’ll tell them that there will come a time when your sister will be the only one who also remembers your childhood.
A week later, they ran into each other there again and spoke a few words. A few weeks after that, Lucy moved back in, mainly because she missed the pets, she said. In the months since, there have been flare-ups but no horrendous fights, and they try to stay out of each other’s way. The other day, I was sitting on the couch next to Becca, consoling her as she cried over a guy, and Lucy came in and hugged her.
They’re not ready to hear this yet—there’s still so much anger under the surface—but at some point, I’ll tell them each this: There will come a time when your sister will be the only one who also remembers your childhood. She’ll be the only one who also remembers how Dad’s taco casserole tasted and the look on my face when I showed up carrying our new puppy. She’ll be the only one who knew about Dad’s vast dorky tie collection, and how I unconsciously push my rice into a neat pile and pat it with my fork before eating it. Or about our early morning walks at our rented beach house, saving the horseshoe crabs and putting them back in the water. About the awful trip to Colonial Williamsburg in the 105 degree heat, with the murky warm pool at the sketchy hotel.
At some point, you’ll need, and want, to be each other’s back-up memory banks—because our memories and our stories are so much of who we are, and who we eventually become.
A version of this article was originally published in July 2018.
Colin Michael says
I think I know the hotel you’re talking about! (I’m a native of the Historical Triangle, BTW, and still work/live here.) LOL. Yes, we have terrible humidity in Virginia and yes, Colonial Williamsburg is still hot as balls. I don’t even go outside on my breaks. I’m sorry you weren’t told about other better hotels… well, the one better hotel. HAHA HAHA.
It sounds like their relationship is on the mend. Perhaps it is just that they are two different people and will never get along wonderfully based on that.
My grandmother and her two sisters fought all the time; she cut off ties with her younger sister, while her and older sister would argue constantly. Older sister was manipulative and cruel; she was starting s**t all the time. (Oldest 17, middle: 10, youngest: 7, just to give you an idea of their ages during this story.) My grandmother was the child who was left with all chores, especially after Older Sister lied about her age at 17 to leave the house and work, instead of taking care of siblings. Youngest Sister was heralded as the “most beautiful” of the three and as the baby, got the easiest life. She wore new clothes and had hairstyles that the stars of the day had, according to Middle Sister (my grandmother), however since each subsequent sister was jealous of the newest arrival and said the reason was related to sexual abuse, each girl got married ASAP to leave the house, Youngest Sister at only 16 (in 1955, so this was no long common or encouraged), Middle Sister at 18 – an elopement, and oldest at 17 after lying about her age), there is reason to believe that they were all sexually, verbally and emotionally abused, as well as my great-grandfather possibly having a gambling problem resulting in financial issues.
Middle Sister (grandmother) had to take care of younger sister and cook dinner for her family starting at age 10. Even when her parents (my great-grandparents) decided to reward her at 16 with a new dress from the “Nickel and Dime” store (?) to wear to some event, the first piece of clothing that wasn’t handed down from her older sister, her younger sister got to wear it first for a piano recital. To add to that, Older Sister who had moved out and married by the age of 19, had the beloved boy her father had always wanted… only he was “disabled” (mildly autistic in today’s world) and very demanding of attention. Nonetheless, her father spent more time with grandSON than with daughters that neither great-grandparent wanted.
That dress was the source of their adulthood quarrel. My mother and half-uncle never got to spend much time with their cousins and the sisters only put aside their differences whenever my grandmother and bio-grandfather were fighting, which was fairly frequent (m. 1952, div. July 1968) because of drinking and gambling problems. (As in, both of them hitting and throwing things at each other. Then he found out my uncle was the product of an affair.) One of them would always come to get my mother and uncle, telling them they were going to play with their cousins. They were semi-united by their own abusive history, and tried to prevent their children from being abused or scarred – which was nice except that my mother had to be in the middle of abuse for 9 years. And the day that they officially separated? Easter Sunday. She awoke to hearing lamps and other things being thrown, profanities being yelled (we found out that he had discovered that half-uncle wasn’t his biological son; he was previously in a relationship and had a son with that woman, but his son died at 10 mos. of age, so as if the cheating wasn’t hurtful enough, he had essentially “lost” another son, to boot.) Grandmother said “Happy Easter” in the worst way possible: “Kids, say goodbye to your father. You’re never going to see him again!”, they had one last hug and aunts swept them away, and that was the last time she saw her biological father until his death in 1995.
I guess a lot of their issues stems from abusive history, but most victims of abuse are united, if they’re siblings. All three sisters spent their entire lives “competing” with each other over EVERYTHING. They each wanted to show off the “perfect family”, have the best house, the most successful husband, the most successful children and grandchildren, the best, closest family. Little did they realize that their “competition” to best the other sisters in public, at least, created an even bigger rift. I don’t even know my mother’s side and I don’t want to.
They literally kept mentioning the dress well into their 70’s… and the Oldest Sister also got mad because no one “would take Earl*, their spoiled only son whose health was dismal (death at 55) when they died. (No one could handle his entitlement – she literally cut his sandwiches for him well into adulthood and allowed herself to be a slave to him. He was ungrateful, to boot, and would order her around.)
*named changed because of whatever reason I have
(The pattern of abuse continues. I was sexually, physically, verbally abused and emotionally neglected by mother and females starting at 3; my brother is younger and had it better but neither of us ever felt like we were “good enough”. To be fair, mother is depressed and she didn’t go on meds until I was a teen. Until then, she expected us to deal with her anger, her mental illness, and her lack of self-esteem from birth. We were the people who “had to love her” when her mother didn’t. On the outside we were the perfect family, just like grandmother did, but on the inside, we were broken into a million pieces – just like grandmother’s household. It doesn’t work like that. Both of us taught ourselves vital life skills like managing money, paying bills, household chores, strong work ethics, friendships/relationships, about sex. He’s gay and she nearly stopped talking to him for 6 mos. when he came out. I was dating a beautiful black woman – I’m white – and she barely met her and told me I couldn’t tell the rest of the family because “she would hear about it”. We broke up due to unrelated reasons, and she didn’t care that I was hurt as usual, but was glad to not have to explain to the family her son was dating a black girl, even though “she wasn’t racist.”)
Tyteanna Evans says
I feel so bad for sisters who don’t get along with one another. I’m the youngest of 4 girl’s. My sister’s are my everything I don’t know what I’ll do without them in my world. My kids love their aunt’s to the moon and Back as I do. I pray all sister’s that are not talking get to talking pray together enjoy life with one another. I love my 4Leading Ladies My mother (Alice) and 3 older sisters (Tamecka,MeAndera,Alexia) My 4Leading Ladies
Jeannie Ralston says
Beautiful. Sisters are amazing and we’re thrilled you have such great ones to go through life with,.
MJK says
After the plethora of reading I’ve done in psychology, 95% of the time the parent fosters this, not the kids themselves, all done at a very early age, and engrained. Sorry!
Colin Michael says
Working in the psychiatric/psychology field (nursing) myself, you are correct. I work with geriatrics mostly, but pts of all ages, in a psychiatric hospital run by the state. 90% of them come from abusive or addiction-riddled families, were discriminated against due to being of mixed race or born “out of wedlock”, or abused by spouses. They will tell me that they caused the rifts between their grown children. (Many of them are very angry with the world because of it.)
Sandra Spicher Kneib says
Yes I have 3 girls and one has passed away. Found out after that she was the one holding family together. Other 2 utterly hate each other. Makes Christmas a 2 night affair and their kids never see each other. Puts mom dad and their brother in awkward place.
Debbie Robertson says
I was never close to my sister. I also have three brothers. When my mom got dementia there was a big rift in our relationship that worsened with moms illness. I have 8 of my own children and a husband and now grandchildren. I also get along well with my in laws. I’ve made new memories, I don’t really feel like I’m missing much.
Marcia King Gascho says
My brother is a year younger than me and we were close into our 30s. When he got married, everything changed and he stopped speaking to me. His wife was apparently jealous and he cut off ties with me for about 10 years. Finally my Mom acted as peacemaker and we had a reconciliation. We are now on good terms. I see friends who have terrible family feuds and it is heartbreaking.
Robyn Eckerman says
I was the ‘accident’ so a lot younger…they were gone off to College when I was in Elementary School. I was the one that made a point to go visit them at their houses. I moved to Colorado from NY right out of College….no visitors…I moved to the Blue Ridge Mtns in NC….my oldest brother and his wife finally visited from Vt. once when I was putting my handbuilt Solar Log Cabin on the market, wanted to see it before it was gone.
Heather Dawson says
My sister and I fought like cats growing up – and now she’s my best friend – we are vastly different personality wise – but it’s that shared experience thing that draws us to one another … she’s an amazing fun grounded caring woman … and she loves far away now – I miss her everyday
Mary Schaut Andreini says
This is not fun to live with, it’s heartbreaking!!
Deborah Santander says
I’m living this… it weighs heavily on me.
To go from what I thought “best friends” to someone I don’t recognize anymore
Nancy Greve-Shannon says
Heartbreaking. My brother and 4 sisters are my best friends.
Jill Jorgensen says
My mother asked me why the siblings were not close. I asked if she really wanted the truth. She said yes, Well Mom you tell me one story, my brother another my sister another my other two brothers even different stories. She kept us apart and never organized any family gatherings. My kids are thick as thieves as I vowed not to continue that pattern.
Sheryl Denice Redman says
I love both of my sisters very much & can’t imagine my life without them. We are the best of friends.
Louise Redwine Billings says
I’ve been working to get my sisters to communicate and be closer. It’s not easy growing up with two alcoholic parents. The lack of trust and fear of emotional intimacy is so ingrained in such a dysfunctional family, it’s hard to overcome. But, I will continue to try. I love my sisters very much and wish them the peace I have found.
Colin Michael says
I know what you mean. My mother’s line has alcoholism, sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional neglect and verbal abuse as far back as the mid 1800’s. (Famously we are told of one very distant uncle who smoked weed and opiates for his ‘asthma’ and gutted the family cat ON the dinner table during dinner, then broke a wooden chair over his wife’s head.) In any case, the abuse has yet to cease in my family though me and my brother were not subjected to alcoholism. I was “never good enough” for my abused mother, have trust issues with women starting at 3 y/o and worsening at 8 when mostly sexual abuse, followed by emotional neglect, and coming in close: verbal and physical abuse, by women started. I never really knew my grandparents and they didn’t care about us. Never knew anyone on mom’s side, really. Pretty much raised myself when it came to life skills (like paying bills, finding a place to live, paying for school, insurance, friendships, medical stuff, coping skills and affection).
My brother and I try hard to break the pattern too. I am not very good at it, but he’s very extroverted and has a wonderful boyfriend who has a Canadian therapeutic quality, and has breached the gap between mother and youngest son in most cases. I’m the older, introverted son and have had it rougher than him, by his own admission. (She never told him she found it hard to love him).
Karen Loncosty says
Amen Sue Minshull!
Maureen Schaller says
Sorry Lisa, you’re in my prayers, hopefully your son’s will be talking soon! ❤
Debbie Pizinger says
I have 4 out of 7 siblings left and I adore every one of them
Lauren Nelson says
Very terrible I don’t know what I would do with out my 3 sisters. We are all very different but we keep each other grounded. My mom and dad kept it that way ❤️
Facebook Comment says
My two sons are going through something like this now. They are 21 and 24. It breaks my heart every day to know they have this rift and I’m trying to figure out if it was something I did or didn’t do when I was raising them. They seemed like typical brothers, although they did fight quite a bit. I really hope they will reconcile soon. It’s been about 3 months since they’ve spoken or seen each other. I, too, wanted both of them to be the same sex so they would have a brother. I’m so sad.
Mary Baker says
At 16, I moved east coast from California with parents. Since my siblings had families and moved out they stayed west coast. I have lovely memories of best of each. But have not seen any more 15 years. And when I call, they are busy and say they will call. It does not happen. So, now I have created life here and hope they happy there.
Dara Abell Gould says
I am so lucky to have a wonderful sister. She is 11 years older than I am and was really a mother to me. Today I am living with her and my BIL. She has been my rock, my confident and my shoulder thru good and bad. I’m sorry for you. I honestly don’t know that I would be who I am today without her.
SharonandKen Mccraney says
It’s hard having a sister who would throw you under the bus …and make you look bad to the whole family..Just to save her self…when The whole time she’s the guilty One…And your own mother warns you to be careful and stay away from her…..
Kari Koeppel Mason says
I prefer my friends.
Wanda Goode says
My only sister died suddenly from an accident in February and I felt about her the way you feel about your sister. My two daughters have trouble getting along. So I identify with everything you’re saying.
Susan Minshull says
It is hard to reconcile with someone who ridiculed you all your life and considered you a child to be talked down to as an adult. That is not family, those are relatives.
Susan Smith Donnell says
I have a sister I cannot stand. She is negative about everything in life. She is critical & miserable.
Tamee Dark says
I have one of those, too. You are not alone. But hard to watch besties taking annual beach trips with their loving, fun sisters. Such is life!
Kathy Gillispie Blanchard says
Same here… I still mourn the loss of her but not enough to go back to that toxic relationship.
Patricia Palmer Hutchins says
My 3 girls don’t talk. It has to do with my oldest got pregnant at 17 by a abusive guy. I ended up raising the baby. #2 was a big help for awhile but #1 said “stay away from my kid. You are not her mom” and physically attacked her. #3 was 10 yrs old when our life changed and she resented #1 because it was her turn to hang out with mom but mom was raising the baby. She has truly tried to reconcile but to no avail so she’s done
Robin Leckbee says
This article confused me. What did the lady’s daughters quarrel about? She mentioned their father had died, that’s rough. But lots of us lost parents too young. I doubt if their heart wrenching quarrel happened spontaneously. My mother had three sisters. One she adored, one she ignored, one she despised. The four of them had a complicated relationship, this went on all their lives from childhood to their graves.
Kathleen Casey says
It’s a whole different story when the mother is the one that caused the rift.
NextTribe says
Oh no. So sorry.
Kathleen Casey says
It’s okay. My daughters are best friends because, unlike my mother, I don’t take sides, play favorites or cause trouble between them.
Patti Westhoff Ketelaar says
Exactly.
Kathleen Casey says
Don’t know what se felt she was accomplishing. She’s gone and I’m alone. My kids don’t have any family!!!