In my monthly column, “The Bright Side,” in ConvergenceRI, I've shared a lot about my own struggles with sobriety, mental health, and divorce, choosing to stay on the sunny side of the street.

No one can tell your own story better than you, and being seen and heard — really seen and heard, especially in our most vulnerable moments — is one of the more meaningful human experiences we can share! 

But what happens when the story affects the people you love — because it is also their story, too? Do I have the right to share, and if so, how much?

Being authentic and maintaining respectful boundaries is often a tightrope; I'll try not to fall off. 

"I did the best I could with the information that I had at that time." This is a phrase that has given me insight into my own heartbreaks, and how best to let go of the past.

Two decades ago, my two young nieces had occupied much of my heart and mind. For years, they were a top priority in my life. But, right now, we really don't know each other. It's a delicate and often painful balance — and, it's also their right to determine who is in their lives and in what way. I'll never force things; I believe we belong where we are welcome.

I am revisiting my family history to try to understand it better. Time's gift is perspective. Perhaps you can relate it to the complex layers of family dynamics. Even as I am writing this, I wonder: Do you need to understand difficult things in order to let them go? 

When my sister had her first daughter, I became an aunt at 19. I would spend as much time as possible at their home, with an untold number of hours spent watching my niece, with the kind of love that catches in your throat.

My next niece came my senior year of college. I moved in with them for awhile after graduation, and spending that time with those angels brought calm to a deeply challenging period of time in my life. I'm grateful for my sister and brother-in-law's hospitality.

That winter, cracks in their relationship became visible; my sister and brother-in-law were so stressed. They became parents quite young, and financial trouble will crush even the most optimistic hearts. Looking back, I wondered about how often talent and joy are crushed by poverty.

A divorce was looming; I worried about what that would mean for my nieces. Contentious relationship breakups don’t often give way to the best judgments being made, and I wanted to shield my nieces as best I could. There was no way to change what was happening, but I hoped that I could serve as a safe place and safe space for them.

In many ways, I wanted to be the kind of aunt that my father's oldest sister had been for me: safe, warm, constant. She never judged me, never spoke ill of my parents, even through the hardest parts of their divorce. My aunt gave me emotional shelter and unconditional love. Now that she has died, I feel untethered.

Peace of mind. Back to my young nieces. I couldn't control what was happening in their home but I deeply believed that I could give them peace in mine. I tried to understand choices that were being made, and I know I wasn't the easiest sibling for my sister to deal with. 

Beneath my anger and frustration, I was panicking. I saw the ways that my young nieces were collateral damage, and yelling about it or demanding answers only helped to push my sister away. I cannot speak much about my brother-in-law and his family — it's hard enough reflecting on my own. I do know patterns within his family of origin were repeated with my nieces, and I hope that time is spent being honest about and healing from that.

During the divorce, my sister and former brother-in-law abruptly vacated my childhood home they were renting from my father and left it in shambles. 

My sister refused (was unable?) to communicate about it or help with the detritus. Her go-to in times of stress was to dissociate and hide, while mine is to move toward and be overly involved. Neither are healthy. 

Therapy is helping me see my own patterns of behavior: ways I've developed dysfunction around "helping,” how my alcohol abuse was a coping mechanism for feeling out of control (isn't THAT some twisted irony), and interpersonal boundaries around other's actions and consequences. Turns out that I am not, in fact, responsible for managing the emotions of others.

I won't dwell on that chapter of my life beyond sharing that I was pregnant — and helping my father load dumpsters filled with a life now abandoned. Garbage bag after garbage bag of clothing, toys, food, home decor. I set aide my sister's wedding album, thinking that my nieces might want to see their parents on their wedding day. I don't know if they ever did see those photos.

My nieces were forced to abandon their lives overnight. There are sad details about whom and what was left behind, with little to no notice. I don't think they were ever even told they weren't going home again. My heart broke for them. I did not deal with that very well, I admit.

I lost the plot. My sister’s new partner was someone I never trusted. I can't ever forget telling my sister that her partner wanted her in a glass coffin: encased away from the world, a quiet possession to be kept. Her new partner fixated on my nieces, and under the expressions of love and care I sensed something more sinister.

Please don't ever doubt what your intuition is telling you! All these years later, I can see how that initial suspicion gave way to uncomfortable confirmation. It was never about jealousy; anyone with half a brain knows that the more caring adults in kids lives, the better. My experience as their aunt was not those uneasy alarm bells in my brain that were sounding about the attachments and the home environment. Something wasn't right; but I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Things that should have been handled and taken care of went untreated and unaddressed. I spiraled into frantic outbursts. Predictably — and understandably — this further distanced my sister from me. Someone I shared an entire childhood with became a stranger, and I didn't have the ability to communicate how badly that scared me. I don't know if my nieces ever had the full picture. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

I've had a lot of time to think about what this time was like for my sister. People who are thriving don't behave like this, and clearly there was a lot going on. I couldn't see beyond my own distress around my nieces to let that in. 

The human brain likes binaries: black or white, stop or go, left or right, right or wrong. It feels safer to have neat boxes. But that's not how the world actually works, and the human heart can't be placed into sterile compartments. As it relates to this situation, wrong choices were made *and* my sister was not trying to cause harm. My nieces weren't prioritized *and* my sister was led to believe that everything was alright. The girls deserved better from their mother *and* my sister may have been taken advantage of. She was doing the best she could with the information she had at the time.

I wish I could go back in time and try to reconnect with my sister through the lens of empathy. 

What else could I possibly do but to try to bestow my love on my nieces when given the chance? TV marathons and candy splurges, car karaoke and drive-thrus. Saying yes whenever I could. I was scared, and they were precious. I worried about losing them altogether. 

My home was supposed to be their safe place. I did my very best with the information I had available to me at that time.