Saturday, February 19, 2011

She Said, She Said

I read through a couple Nouwen imperatives, still not finished with the book, but nothing I read tonight moved me to write.  I decided to regurgitate the thoughts and emotions from a very long evening. 

I had a family function tonight at my dad's and step-mom's house, the first coming together (at least with me involved) since the Christmas debacle.  There were a couple jokes about it, which I initiated to take the sting out of the jokes that were sure to come, or at least the thoughts on everyone's mind.  It was an overall okay, pleasant time.  But, I started crying out of nowhere.  I went into my sister's room where the younger girls were watching Hannah Montana, vegged out for a few minutes, and the waterworks began.  Where were these emotions coming from?  Where were these thoughts coming from?

I don't fit in.  I don't feel a part of the family.  I am a loser.  My life is going nowhere.  They don't think highly of me.  I am a big joke.  Life will not get better.  I wish I weren't here.

My sister who I confide in the most came into the room and immediately knew something was wrong.  She could see I was crying.  Funny how I thought no one would be able to tell.  We went into my other sister's room (I have a lot of sisters).  I opened up to her.  And like our talks usually go, I felt better afterward.

She helped me see that these thoughts and feelings of detachment are in my head -- these are the things I think and feel about myself, not what others think and feel about me.  She said that I am wanted, that I am loved, and that this boat I am in is not all that bad, nor is it all that uncommon.  She said she has struggles as well, because of our mother, because of the household we were raised in, being yelled at all the time, living amongst endless tension and chaos.  She said she looks at me as having come a long way in my life, making the best of the cards I was dealt.

"What would you think of a tall, skinny, blond girl walking through the mall?  What would you think about the life she has had, about the family she grew up in?" she asked.  I thought for a few moments, not really sure where she was going with this.  "I don't really know what I would think," I responded.  "Oh, well I would think that skinny bitch!" my sister yelled, laughing.  "Yeah, I guess me too," I said, starting to understand the point.  "I would think she's snobby, that she's always gotten everything she's wanted and needed."  "Yeah!" my sister piped up.  "And you don't know anything about her except for what you see on the outside.  She could have worked hard in her life to bring herself up higher from a place that she came from.  People look at you and any thoughts or judgments they have, if they even have any, is based on what they see on the outside.  They don't know why you are the way you are, they don't know the struggles you are having.  So, who cares what they think?  And, I honestly don't think anyone thinks the things you think they do."  We chatted a bit more and ended on a humorous note like we always do, with me picking up my little sister's recorder and playing what little melody I could remember of "Hot Cross Buns". 

I'm home now, talking with you and trying to make sense out of this evening.  I didn't drink my feelings.  I didn't hide my feelings.  I didn't necessarily understand my feelings, agree with my feelings, or disagree with my feelings.  My feelings are my worst enemy, kinda like that blond bitch walking through the mall.

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