Seester Dearest

Come again?

I was informed, today, that my “sister” is now trying to convince my mom that our relationship problems are, in fact, my fault! Allow me to rebut...

I am by no means a perfect person. I admit that I am a difficult person to get along with. Close quarters make that difficulty an almost impossibility. I’ve flown off any handle there may have been, for stupid stuff; or worse, no apparent reason, at all! Having been entirely unmedicated for twenty-six years, then not properly medicated for nearly thirty-two years, has made it difficult for people to stick with me. However, it’s not impossible (e.g. Kierstin— 26 years, Berkeley— 21 years, and Anna— 18 years). 

All I got was, “She says she’d like to hang out with you, but you always... I can’t remember”. So true, it’s that memorable! 

So, what do I always do? Half the time, I don’t even know what I do! My life has been one giant inconsistency. There’s not a whole lot that I always do. Do I always sleep? No. Do I always get angry when you say that? No. Am I always going to agree with you, and be exactly who you want me to be? To quote “She’s All That”(1999)... That’s a hell no. 

But seester, dearest, here’s what you have always done...

1- Put me down for not being 100% like you. Most notably for liking the music that I do.

2- Roll your eyes when I talk about mental illness. Fun fact: It’s not something I can “learn to get over”, like you like to tell me. Just like your pain can’t.

3- So, this one isn't an always thing, but I remember four times (yes, four), when you flat-out told me that I’m not as classy as you are. Why? Because I have the audacity to wear jeans! Oh! The humanity!

4- Last on this list, but definitely not last in reality: You’ll decide to be a friend for anywhere from an hour to a month, then just drop me like a Large Hadron Collider (it’s a thing, look it up).

You, dear seester, are consistent, predictable, and intolerable. I may have Bipolar Disorder, but the way you go back-and-forth is as steady as a pendulum.

Ask yourself these questions:

-Has she ever told me that who I am isn’t good enough?

-Has she mocked me for something I like (even when Backstreet was life)?

-Which one of us blocked the other out when we were kids?

-Have I ever told her she’s good enough, without emphasizing the word “enough”?

-When was the last time I actually listened to what she had to say, instead of running my mouth like the speedometer on a Lamborghini?

Answer Sheet: (Read in first person, for ya.)

No, but I did that to her, like, a lot. 

No, but I’d pick at everything I could.

Me. Unless I was bored. 

No, but I did that to her. Still do.

Never. Didn’t even know she had a blog.

So, go ahead, make up these stories that make you the victim. If they make you feel like a good person, go for it, because I simply don’t care. You can lie like a public defender, but the one person you’ll never convince is the person you have put through hell for over thirty years.

We can still make holidays pleasant, but we will never be friends, let alone sisters.