Sisters

My sister and I are very different. There are a lot of things that I don’t understand about her and probably never will. I hold on to a lot of hurt from her that I wish I could let go. But I hold on it for pride, or fear, or justification. I saw a video of when we were younger. My uncle was ‘attacking’ my sister at our lake house and trying to drag her into the water. I immediately run to her side and challenge her ‘attacker’. I was around 8 years old, she would have been 11. My sister was on the bus the day that bully made me cry and got me into trouble. She did nothing on the bus and I have no memory of her in the room while Mom held me.

For the longest time I looked up to my big sister. There were many nights when I would sneak into her room after Mom and Dad had put us to bed. I would crawl into bed with her, just to be near her. She never came to crawl into bed with me; but years later fooled around with her boyfriend in my bed while Mom and Dad were out.

For years she teased me about things she knew were the most hurtful to me, and usually in front of company. One of her favorite stories to tell was how I pooped in the bath tub when I was about 4 years old. I’ll say that again, I was 4 years old. Yet this story was told at every opportunity; which was quite a bit more often than one would think and always when company was around. I would say the last time this was told was…but I’m afraid this colorful story has not yet been put to rest.

Being adopted I have different hair than everyone else in my entire extended family. It’s curly and thin and has a complete mind of its own. As a young adolescent in the 6th grade I did the best I could with it. The style at the time was to have big bangs that stood straight up and curved over to the side. In the process of trying to achieve this style my curly hair curled at the end of my bang wall. This was to be known as my ‘jerry curl’. Even into my early 20s the story of my hair and how awful I looked was of much amusement to my sister, again in front of company.

Why does this bother me? Why should I care about something that happened before I was even old enough to remember? Vulnerability. Trust. There are few things in this world more vulnerable than a child. I somehow feel betrayed by the telling of these stories; as though I’m the brunt of the joke, always. It’s as though I can never let my guard down for fear that I may be lending more ammo to my sister's arsenal of ‘Taryn is an ass’ stories.

I’ve always expected something from her that she can just never give. I have this idea in my head of what I think a ‘sister’ is supposed to be like; your best friend. She should know you better than anyone; stand up for you and beside you. I expected her to be the older sister, to teach me, to bring me along. I have often found these roles reversed.

Never did I get any support from my sister (or much from the rest of the family for that matter) when Michael was out to sea, for 6 months, and then 9 months. But the first sign that her husband is heading out to sea for 2 months and she sends this mass e-mail to our entire family saying “thanks in advance for your support”. Thanks in advance. I hate this saying. What a rude saying that is! Don’t just assume people are going to do things for you. Are you so lazy that you can’t thank someone once they’ve actually done something; you have to do it in advance? This is ridiculous to me. Give credit where it’s due, and don’t guilt people into doing things for you by thanking them in advance.

The Good...

While my sister and I don’t get along famously, I’ve learned a lot from being around her. I’ve learned to be more sensitive to other people’s needs and feelings. A lot of times the people roughest on the outside are really very tender inside. Stacy has challenged me to look deeper into people and to find purpose in actions first thought to be hurtful. I have often found myself thinking “How dare she/he? Who do they think they are?” But because of my sister I now think these are opportunities to grow; opportunities to learn. So I stop and say to myself: Taryn, this person is not you, they don’t think or act the way you do. Let them be different and see what you can learn from them. Look past what they are saying and find what they are not saying but truly mean. Have patience with them, because you would want someone to have patience with you.