my sister

There's a woman in my life who understands me better than I understand myself. She's gone through so many of the same things that I have. She feels the same way I do and thinks the same thoughts. The older we get, the more alike we become and what emerges from this is a wonderful, amazing, breathtaking bond that cannot be replaced.

Some people have sisters to share their lives with. But I don't. I have my cousin, Christina. Less than a year older and truly the sister I was meant to have in this life. She's been there since the very, very beginning and I know she'll be there until the last second.

It might not seem like much, but to us our relationship is the world. We come from a... non-traditional family. There wasn't always stability. Hell, sometimes we had to look pretty damn hard to find happiness under all the resentment and bitterness and arguing. (I'm ashamed to admit that even we fell victim to it a time or two. maybe three. okay four times.) But throughout everything, we've always been able to lean on each other.

There is no one in the world I admire more than Chrissy. At the age of 15 she was diagnosed with a tumor and little did any of us know how that would go on to nearly ruin her life. After countless (seriously, I think she's had around 20) surgeries and tests and procedures, she keeps smiling. I've never met anyone who handles what God has dealt them with such class, grace and optimism. Sometimes when I want to bitch about a little thing in life, I remember what she's gone through and what she still continues to endure every single day. Suddenly my life doesn't seem so bad.

I don't always tell people how I feel. I'm known for being closed off and guarded. Maybe this is my way of letting her know that I love her more than I'll ever be able to say. Maybe this is how I'm telling her how proud I am of her. Even now she's faced with more medical issues and she still laughs, smiles and jokes like the world is the happiest place ever.

I think she got that from our grandfather.

So, Chrissy, this is me telling you that you amaze me. Having you in my life makes me a better person. You constantly support me, you appreciate me and more than anything you love me. There is no one I respect more and no one I'd rather have by my side until I become a crazy old woman like Gramma. (Well, not that crazy. Maybe Nannie crazy.)

being home again

Ever since my surgery on Tuesday I have been staying with my parents. I moved out of their house when I left for college and only came back for a few months when I was 19, so I've pretty much been gone for the last decade or so. In fact, this is the most time I've spent with them since I move into my first apartment way back in 2002. The circumstances of being back home weren't great. I'm having a lot of trouble getting around and it's 100 degrees outside. But despite the reasons behind me being here, I can honestly say it feels so good to be home again.

My dad is the single most amazing man I've ever met in my life. For all of the teasing (and tormenting, kidding, nagging, belittling and bothering) he's been doing he has also been taking the best care of me. Every single day I've been here has come with the most delicious meals. Seriously. Spaghetti, fresh eggs and bacon and bread, grilled chicken, more eggs, more fresh bread, meatloaf and then today? Eggs, toast, bacon, grilled chicken, corn and salad, homemade pizza. Seriously. It's okay to be jealous because he's been fantastic.

And my mom. Oh, my mother. To say we butt heads a lot is such an understatement. We are so similar and so different that being under the same roof was a trying time for us both. I didn't expect things to go so well with my return, but she's been wonderful. I tease my mom that she's lacking a maternal instinct, but she's found it. My mother is sixty years old and she helped me bathe and dress. Her love (after all of these years) warms my little black heart.

I'm excited about going home. I miss my crappy little house and god do I miss seeing my husband. But knowing that I could come back home and depend on my parents for awhile is such a good feeling. I'm a damn lucky kid. Even at twenty-eight years old.

being an outcast in a blended family

When you have a big family you want to assume that you'll have lots of friends and everyone will be close and happy and laugh at holidays and blah blah blah. That's what I though too when I finally got a big family. I was really wrong. And even though I'm 28 now, I still feel the hurt that comes with being an outcast.

Between my mom's tiny family, my dad's huge family and my inlaws, I have a lot of people in my life. But the thing is? I don't see many of them. Not because they live far away. In fact nearly every person in my family lives no more than thirty minutes away. I can pop by and see them whenever I'd like. But I don't. I don't seek them out, I don't go to a lot of family functions and there is one very big, very sad and very dumb reason for that.

I don't fit in.

I'm not exactly odd. (Okay, I am a bit.) I'm not mean (much), I don't dislike everyone (not everyone) I meet and I can relax and have a good time with people. Really. My friends have seen it happen. But when I'm with my family I still feel like the shy eight-year-old girl who wasn't always a part of the family. My relationship with half of my family stopped developing when I was around fourteen years old and I don't think it's ever going to progress beyond that.

It upsets me sometimes. I want them to see how much fun I can be and I want to have a close relationship with my cousins. Hell, it's all over facebook and I see it every time I log in. But instead I'm alone with my small family and friends. And then I have an amazing day with my cousin, Chrissy, or I laugh until I cry with my adopted family and I remember.. I have a brilliant family.

There are people in my heart I haven't known very long. Some who came into my life and my home on the first day I met them. Some who have been there from my birth, some who I met on a bleacher in gym class and some (a lot of you) who I found at the most random times in my life. And all of those people are really my family. So maybe I'm not an outcast in my family.

Maybe I just fit into my own blended family. And that's where I belong.

Red Headed Step Child

I'm hurting at the moment. The fact that I'm sharing it with anyone is a big step for me because I don't like telling people when I'm hurting. But right now in this very moment I am.

I think my brother may be in town from California. And how did I discover this? My oldest brother made a Facebook post. "My brother can party." Maybe he's hearing a story from Kory, but it's far more likely they are together.

I'm never told when he is coming out here. I rarely see him when he does come out here. I'm twenty-seven years old and I still just want my brothers to love..hell, I want them to like me. But maybe it's time to accept that they don't and never will.

I know we come from a blended family. I know that we don't share any blood, but I've never seen them as anything but my brothers. It really sucks knowing that they don't feel the same way. All I ever wanted when I was little was a family and then I was handed one. My dad came along with this huge family filled with people and handed it to me. I thought it was the answer to all my prayers.

But I don't talk to most of them. I sincerely doubt they talk to me or think about me. I'm just the outsider that's smiled at and said hello to when I show up for family events. No one calls me. No one invites me directly to any function. And no matter how many times I tell myself I don't care...

I do. I really, really care.

I'm supposed to be a grown up. I'm supposed to be okay with things like this. But I'm not. I can handle my extended family not caring about me much.. but knowing that my big brothers forget about me and don't really care?

That's not something I'll ever be okay with.