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Thursday, November 24, 2016

Crazy

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers!

So today was supposed to be a happy day, full of family and fun, right? Well... Mine was ruined by two sentences tonight. All day, my sister behaved herself. A couple of weeks ago, she even went so far as to say she accepted me, "skinny jeans and all." (She hates skinny jeans, btw.) But the two of us went out to get coffee and cocoa, and she blasted all the respect I had for her right out the window.

What could possibly be so offensive, you ask? Allow me to explain...

"You cray cray, Ducky, but you haven't been cray cray for awhile." A) Yes, she calls me Ducky. B) No she wasn't kidding. As you may now have guessed (or not, who knows), she was, in fact, referring to my mental illness. She called me crazy. She told me about a friend at work who "is Bipolar," and when I questioned whether he is or has, she insisted that he is. I tried to explain that Bipolar is something you have, not something you are, but she was having none of it. "He identifies with it." Well you just answered my question there, didn't ya, poopsie? But no, she doesn't get it.

If you've been following me regularly, you may remember about a year and a half ago, she backed me into a corner, towered over me while berating me, and my leg (mind of its own, I swear!) shot out and kicked her, almost knocking her down. To her ignorant mind, this is crazy. To her ignorant mind, I am not mentally ill... I am crazy.

It's difficult enough to tell people I have this burden without them making assumptions and straight up being rude to me (like in the psych ward), but to have my big sister, the one I've always looked up to no matter how much I hated her at whatever moment, to have her be so cruel and ignorant toward the biggest piece of me... I'm broken. Not even Brooke has said anything quite this cruel to me.

I now want nothing to do with her. I'll be polite, but I'll never tell her anything ever again. And when our parents are gone (morbid, I know), she'll have no place in my home or my life. I'm through bending over backwards for someone who thinks I'm nothing more than crazy.

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