For My Sister, On The Occasion Of Her 30th Birthday

My dear sister,

I have thought about you many, many times over the last few weeks.  I think about you a lot.  But more so recently, as you approach this milestone of your 30th birthday. 

In my mind, I've gone all the way back to the you I knew as a baby.  I won't lie.  I wasn't thrilled when you arrived on the scene.  I was 8 years old and knew enough even then to realize that bringing your poor little soul into the mix wasn't going to be a good thing.  I was selfish.  I didn't want to have one more thing to take care of.  I felt overloaded.  I think you knew that, even then.  You were fussy, colicky, and rarely smiled.  You managed to have your voice heard even as an infant.  I realize now that you were trying to teach me to speak up at all costs. 

In grade school you were such a spitfire.  You hit your teacher in kindergarten because she embarrassed you in front of the class.  Not one year went by without you being suspended for something or other.  You had a permanent frown on your face.  You didn't believe in hiding behind the walls of lies that I was helping to so carefully construct.  You taught me that truth is the ultimate freedom and that no amount of smoothing over will ever really make things better.

During your high school years I felt that we were really starting to communicate on a higher level.  I wasn't living with the family any more and it seemed that this made us able to speak openly about our home situation for the first time.  You seemed to have the self esteem that I lacked.  You refused to wear anything but the best.  No garage sale or thrift store stuff for you.  You were really beginning to succeed in all the ways that I had secretly wished for all along.  I really believed that you would somehow come out unscathed.  I had so much wrapped up in who you were going to be.  Far too much, it turns out.  I have learned that nobody can handle that level of pressure- especially not a young girl who came from where we came from.

By your senior year, everything had come tumbling to the ground in a massive heap.  I was so angry with you.  I felt like everything I had ever done for you was being thrown back in my face.  I felt so defeated as I watched your life unwind.  You threw away your Navy enlistment.  You ran away to live in a drug flop house.  You tossed everything valuable about yourself into a flaming inferno and watched it burn.  You almost seemed to enjoy it.   You were not me and I should have seen that.  I am so sorry that I believed you could just get through it all and manage to make a life for yourself once you were finally freed, as I did.  I didn't get it then that you only wanted desperately to have your own life, make your own choices- something I have come to appreciate on such a deep level.

As the years have gone by and we have grown further and further apart, you have let me know many times that you feel as if I judge you for the life that you have chosen.   I must admit that the life you live scares me.  It is sad and dangerous and far closer to repeating the life we had as kids than I ever would have imagined for you.  I could tell you that I want better for you, that you deserve so much more.  I'm aware now that this is not my place.  My desires for your life are simply that; mine. 

People often saw me as the 'smart' one and yet you got the lesson so much quicker than I did.  There is no value in living your life for others and what they would have you be.  Part of me is still that selfish 8 year old, but I am learning.  Life is not about covering up the imperfections.  Rather we should embrace them.  It is only then that we can manage to make any kind of real choices about whether or not we will keep or change the things that make us who we are.

On this your 30th birthday, I will thank you for the lessons you have bestowed upon me and wish you everything it is that your life is meant to be.  And mean it, without reservation.

A Birthday Present To Myself

or... My Mother Told Me If I Ever Told Anyone, They'd Never Believe Me

...and now I have to tell the truth one more time.  Now I am ready to really let this go.

My mother was right about nobody believing me, for a long time.  Because I made sure she was right.

I've wanted to write about certain things for quite a while now.  But I hadn't figured out a way to do it without being negative.   I mean, yeah it's important to me to get things out there- mostly because it might just help someone else to not repeat certain things that are not so productive.  But then, being negative is just not all that productive either.

So I think I've found a way to do this without hitting the 'oh feel sorry for me' notes.  After all, that would defeat the purpose. 

So here goes...

I've been told by friends that I am one of the most honest people they know.  I value that appraisal so very much.  But it wasn't always that way.

There was a time when I was very small, so small that I don't even remember anything before that time, that I first faced the choice.  It was a choice between the truth and dangers that I perceived as even worse.  I have always been a super fast learner.  It didn't take me any time at all to see that lying was the only viable way to remain safe.

I wish that I could say that I didn't know any better.  That I was under the impression that everyone lived the way that I did.  It might have been easier in some ways if I had thought that way.  But that would be a lie.  Not only have I always been a super fast learner, I also have always had razor sharp perceptions.  I knew things I shouldn't know for my age way before my peers.  I knew and understood complex things without ever having them explained to me. 

From the very first time that I lied to cover up the ugly truth, I knew it was wrong.  Over the years, I felt myself disappearing into a hole where no one would ever be able to find me.  And certainly never be able to help me.  At the same time, I was continuously reminded of how fortunate I was to be living the life I had.  At some point, I think I believed that I was too lost to ever be found and unworthy of anything or anyone.  I hate to admit this, but I became brainwashed thoroughly enough that I finally gave in to the darkness.

I lied and lied and lied.  With a smile on my face.  I made certain that NOBODY ever knew what my life was really like.  I performed perfectly on cue.  It was Oscar worthy, really.  When somebody got suspicious, that's when I pulled out the big guns.  I made sure that every word, every motion, every nuance was perfectly positive in every way.  I eventually fooled myself as well.

For many, many years I honestly believed that the life I had was all that I would ever have.  I dreamed so small.  I did crazy things to make sure that I stayed stuck right where I was.  School was my only reprieve and I would count the hours every night until I could go back.  The weekends seemed endless and summer break was a kind of torture.  My charade was growing old and once in a while I allowed myself a close friendship, but never for very long.

It was not a real life.  And as I got older and more mature I realized that sooner or later this would have to end.  I just had no idea how to get out of the darkness, the insanity, the uncertainty.  Still, in the back of my mind there remained a bit of hope that never quite died, no matter how bad things got.

I did have chances to tell someone.  Over time I allowed more people into my world to some degree.  But I just never could bring myself to tell the whole truth.  I think I had actually forgotten exactly what the truth was.

I managed to move out of my mother's house and into an apartment with room mates.  And then to get married- all without truly facing my demons.  Why I didn't tell the truth at this point is beyond me.  There was no longer a tangible reason to hold back.  All I can say is that I had been well trained and complete control is a difficult bond to break.  The mind can be a funny thing with all its' myriad locks and keys.

One day, I experienced a change.  It was my 30th birthday.  I never saw it coming.  It was as if a dam had broken loose in me and the truth just would not stop flowing out.  All those years of lies bubbled up like a volcano.  I was done.  I wouldn't have it anymore.  It felt good and bad at the same time.  I was so embarrassed that it had taken me so long to get to that point.

I had to fight harder than I ever imagined to complete the process.  I needed to do things that I never imagined I would ever dream of doing.  Harsh things.  Things that cannot be undone.  The lies came back to haunt me.  My guilt was immense.  I had wasted so much time and broken people I loved.  Things would never be the same and I knew it.  And yet, there I was in the rubble- finally free.

I will never be able to explain completely why I didn't stop what was going on much sooner than I did.  I will never know why this one lesson was so hard for me to learn.  I will always be sorry for the people I lied to.  I will never be proud of how I took my husband down the rabbit hole with me.  I am still sorry I resented people who failed to help me, even though I made sure they wouldn't.  I hope that one day I am able to get over the fact that there were things I didn't see while I was still dealing with this that caused me to allow my nephew to be hurt.

I don't say these things so I can pile another guilt trip on myself.  I say it because I'm being honest and that finally feels right.  I started going through the motions of stopping the actions that were keeping me from being who I'm supposed to be 8 years ago.  It's been a long and difficult process.  And now, although it's not a perfect picture I present here, it's a real one.  And that's all I ever wanted.