I’m glad it was me.
I’m glad I was able to protect my siblings as much as I could when we were little, playing with them and telling them stories to try and drown out the screaming. My sister doesn’t remember any of that, and my brother doesn’t remember much, either.
I’m glad I’m the one that got the mental illness, taking the proverbial bullet so they could live happy, healthy lives. I am happy to take this pain for them. If one of us had to inherit it, I’m glad it was me.
My great-grandmother passed away on Saturday. She was one hundred years old. We have been expecting it for a week- hence my recent radio silence, as I was struggling with the stress of my impending new job, as well as an impending funeral I didn’t know if I would be able to attend or not. I decided that the worst my current job can do is fire me, I need to go to the funeral. (She’s not “direct family” enough to count for the bereavement policy. I have a week left. I don’t care.) I took off on Thursday, thinking I didn’t have much time left, and she didn’t pass until 1:30 on Saturday. I had been expecting her to pass on Thursday, so I only packed enough medication to get me through Sunday morning, as I planned to be home by that night. Now I’m trying to figure out how to get a couple extra days’ worth of medication. Mom and I are going to hit the after-hours clinic tomorrow to explain my plight, and pray someone will hook me up with a couple days’ worth of my psych meds. At worst, I will drive the five hours back to my house, sleep, and drive back to my parents’ on Monday so I can be there for the visitation and funeral. I didn’t think I needed to be there, but now that she’s actually passed, I need the closure.
My little sister, whom I protected so carefully as a baby, is now 20, and brought her boyfriend home with her for the funeral. They haven’t been dating long, but they act like an old married couple. My little brother is now engaged to his girlfriend and will soon be a stepdad to the cutest little boy ever.
I… haven’t had a date in a year and a half.
I’m glad to see them both growing up and moving on with their lives. I am, too, just not in the same order they seem to be. I tend to drive dates off as a defensive mechanism, using my illness as an offensive weapon so I don’t get hurt if (when?) they find out and run the other way.
My grandfather used to call me his girl, but it has somehow shifted to my little sister. My aunt who once showered me in presents, now showers my sister with them. My sister has the doting boyfriend who hangs on her every word, and dozens of best friends in real life (I can only claim so many if I add in all the many “friends” I have on Facebook that I friended in an effort to have more soldiers in a Facebook app…)
I wanted her to be happy. I protected her from everything I could so she could one day be happy. I’m not really jealous… I just feel invisible. Replaced. Is it because I moved away, and she’s still in college and thus is still here for everyone to spend time with and dote on? My mind is telling me at this late hour that it is in fact because she’s the skinny, pretty one. My family has many, many hangups about food and weight, and have only just backed off of me for being fat. I’m sure I haven’t had any lectures because we’re together for a funeral and not a happy occasion, which is a horrible thing to say, but sadly the truth. I try to be invisible because I don’t want the criticism and concern, but now I don’t get any positive attention, either. My sister does.
But still, I’m glad it was me.