It Might Still Be True, A Part Of Me Lives For You

Things. Things, things, things.

Things are complicated. When aren’t they complicated? I accept that they’re complicated, as a part of life. I just wish my life wasn’t a concentrated dramathon as it is. And I wish that I could impart what limited experience I have with my sister. But she doesn’t want it.

This year has been… whew. Where do I begin? I suppose anyone following this blog has read about it already. My family was less than enthusiastic about my engagement, and it has been an uphill battle of relationship revelations and money troubles. There have been health problems and serious injuries. The most important year of my life has successfully fallen by the wayside, and taken a huge downturn due to being out of work and sick. Until last weekend there were no celebrations.

As far as I know, nobody has arranged a bachelorette party for me. I probably won’t be having one. I didn’t really have a celebration on my 25th birthday- there were no gifts of any kind, or a party- not that I care about the gifts, but it’s nice to have time with friends and family. We had a pseudo replacement the day after, but I spent my birthday in the hospital.

The morning of my birthday, while I was running errands, my sister was overdosing on advil and gravol. She swallowed half a bottle of each in an attempt to kill herself. I think the logic was that she was hoping the gravol would knock her out before she could change her mind and try to throw anything up. She panicked early, thank God. She started calling people and trying to throw up the pills. She did eventually pass out on the bathroom floor, but her boyfriend found her and took her to the hospital.

I wish she would talk to me. She tells everyone that everything is fine, but it isn’t. Considering the rampant sexual abuse that she and I experienced, and the total resistance to seeking help to cope with it, I saw her having a meltdown eventually. She and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye on a lot of things. She criticized me a lot, for the mistakes I made and the shit I went through as an adult. Even in the last two years, she has made such a point to let me know what a moron I am for the money I’ve spent, the weight I’ve lost and gained, the jobs I’ve taken, the guys I’ve dated… so on and so forth. She acted like she knew what it was like to be an adult, like it was just so easy and I was a pathetic failure at basic living.

Now she’s graduated, and moved out. Suddenly she realizes that her rent is highly dependent on the income and emotional well-being of her roommates, who seem to move out at will without discussion or consideration of how that effects everyone else and their money. She’s fallen in very real love for the first time in her life (when she was so sure she’d been there before), and driving herself insane with jealousy and insecurity in herself. She doesn’t know how to deal with feelings she swore she’d never have, and won’t talk to anyone because she feels like a hypocrite. She parties and goes out, and buys new things, and then gets depressed when she doesn’t get the work she was expecting and can’t make rent, or buy groceries. She realizes all too late that quitting a sure thing, even if you hate the work, is probably a super-stupid idea.

I think she was hoping that everyone else’s shortcomings were their own fault, and not just a consequence of the real world. I think she was hoping she was more capable than everyone else, because success seems so common-sense. The follow through is a lot harder than it sounds. She’s been taking the truth of it all really hard, and hasn’t been able to talk to anyone about it, because she spent so much time chastising people. At least, that’s my assessment of things. Though I am irked by her situation, I don’t blame her, or think less of her for her situation. But I am hurt by her pride, and her inability to say she’s sorry. She’s punishing herself for being normal.

I think the hardest part for me is coming to terms with the fact that she would rather commit suicide than have the fortitude to put up with the trials of everyday life. These aren’t even the hard parts. I am feeling resentment because of the really tough shit I’ve been through, when I was suicidal, and having her call me pathetic and stupid- and she is suicidal because she’s having trouble paying bills. She doesn’t even have outstanding debts. If she weren’t so intent on paying $100/mo+ for her blackberry, she’d have extra money for food, etc. I know it isn’t fair of me to feel this way. I try to hold it back knowing it’s unfair. But it’s lingering in the background all the time- the urge to smack some sense into her and give her the lectures she gave me. Oh, and to thank her for the birthday present. There’s nothing like getting a dead sister and an inconsolable mother for your 25th birthday.

Things will get better. Things have to get better. I need to worry about me- selfish as that may sound. I’m getting married. And all of the most important parts of the most important year of my life have fallen by the wayside of everyone else’s issues somehow. This is supposed to be a celebration- this incredible ramping up to the most wonderful day of my life. Somehow everyone seems intent to steal my thunder.

Most of my guests aren’t coming. Only one of the people I invited came to my wedding shower. I’m not having a bachelorette party. We didn’t have an engagement party because so many people were too skeptical to believe we were serious about getting married. My own Father isn’t coming to my wedding. There is an equal amount of melancholy to happiness ratio in everything. I can’t help but wish I’d been selfish and just eloped. Nobody could have disappointed me or hurt me if I’d never allowed them the opportunity.

And now I’ve fallen down the stairs and broken my foot. I’ll be lucky if I can walk on it by the time the wedding comes around.

K.M.

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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 06/02/2010.

2 Responses to “It Might Still Be True, A Part Of Me Lives For You”

  1. I hate that I’m not there for you, I feel like a shitty friend. Money is still an issue, but I feel like that shouldn’t be stopping me. Not that I could fix things, but I should at least be there to help. I’m sorry I’m not.

  2. You’re not a shitty friend. It’s the logistics of where we live. I moved away. Not your fault. I think that’s the one thing I can’t stand living with. Do I miss the city? Of COURSE I do. Do I miss my other friends? Of COURSE I do. Do I miss my routine? OF COURSE I DO! But all of that pales in comparison. Anywhere is awesome when you’re there. *hug*
    Without you I feel positively limbless. And to feel like more than that would be to blaspheme how I value you. I love you, deeply, my friend.

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