We are six days away from your 21st Birthday,
a day I have been looking forward to since I turned 21. Being able to buy my
baby brother his first drink and celebrating his Birthday until the night was
young was a day I planned for years. At one point in our lives we were best friends,
but somewhere along the way I got lost and instead of trying to help me find my
way, the way I helped you since you were kicking in mom’s belly, you made fun
of me and left me without remorse. Today along with the last couple years I have
attempted to put myself in your shoes and comprehend the emotions you have
faced during the last 10 years as I have struggled with mental illness and a
serious eating disorder. I do this so that I can forgive you for abandoning me
when I really needed you the most. But as I have now sent two text messages
putting my sadness aside I find that as I try my best to give you space and
understand your reasoning for distancing yourself, I find that you owe me the courteously
of attempting to understand me.
Although you and I are cut from the same cloth, the
parents I knew and the parent you knew were very different. My mom and dad were
addicts. I lived with my grandma during the most important years of my life. It
has come to my attention that you have been educated in psychology and so I assume
that if you paid attention you would comprehend that the first few years of
life are most important for bonding between mother and child. You, my brother received
that from the same mother that left me for drugs. You didn’t know your father, I
did though. I knew him as an addict, I knew him as the monster I loved so much,
but was terrified of and when he left our family I felt the hurt deeper than
you had the ability to, because I actually knew him. It was a given that due to
the chaotic family dynamics that sooner or later I would struggle more than the
average teen. While you grew up being given love and attention, I grew up
fighting for it, while also doing my best to make you understand how important
you were.
I remember vividly, a car trip in which you fell asleep and
I as your big sister held your head up with one hand so that your neck wouldn’t
flop to the side. My hand got tired, but my priority was that you were
comfortable and resting peacefully. I loved you more than I loved myself which
is something I didn’t even realize until probably this moment. If I actually
realized that that was the case, I wouldn’t have been so hurt by your ignoring
my messages. I wouldn’t excuse and accept your constant disregard to the fact I
exist. When I was 15 years old I began working, my first paycheck came just in
time for your birthday. Mom told me not to spend so much money on you, but you
meant more to me than life itself, so with that check I bought you your first
skateboard with interchangeable wheels. I was the one who put it together,
matter of fact I was typically the one that helped you set anything up.
As I got older I realized the difference between you and
I. Mom wasn’t able to admit it at the time and even if she could I probably
wouldn’t have understood it. She couldn’t love me, the way she loved you no
matter how many trophies I won, no matter how high my GPA or how well I treated
my little brother. I did at that time begin cutting. It wasn’t something I just
decided to do for the hell of it, but the pain I felt was so deep and hard for
me to explain that physical pain became my coping skill. As I got older having
those around me including my mother and you, use abandonment as a tactic to get
me out of what you thought was a phase only pushed me into a deeper depression.
I did some crazy shit as a teen and even as an adult. I didn’t ever stop
thinking about how my actions would affect my family because in hindsight I thought
you all didn’t care and quite honestly with each suicide attempt I thought my
demise would be doing you a favor.
I just got out of treatment once again. Each time I learn
more about myself, love myself some more and let go of something else. This
time, I have decided to let you go. I love you Charles more than words can say
and I wanted nothing more than to be a part of your big day. In my mind, I imagined
after your birthday you would finally give me a chance, but I have nothing to
prove. I am who I am. I hurt sometimes, okay I hurt a lot of times, but I do my
best to work with what I was given. I wish you would be in the audience during
my book signing, but I see that is a far- fetched idea. And although I hold so much anger and
resentment towards you, I can’t help, but wish you the best. I hope your 21st
birthday is as special as it can be. I hope that life continues to bless you
with unconditional love and support, strength and the confidence that keeps you
going and somehow thinking you are any better than me. I love you. Have fun and
be safe. Forever and always,
Your blood sister.
No comments:
Post a Comment