I'm Still Alive!

HI. SORRY. I kinda dropped off the face of the earth, there, didn't I?

I wish I could say my life has been hectic...Well, it sort of has. Between vacationing at Cape Cod and home and getting ready for school, I've been kind of busy.

In the span of two weeks, Sorella applied, got accepted, and left for college. We're all very excited for her. She left on Friday, just in time to meet Hurricane Irene on the coast. She lost power, but last I heard didn't need to be evacuated.

Hurricane Irene was a bit of a let down. Everyone hyped it up to be so big and horrible, and yet all we got was some heavy rain and wind. I'm actually disappointed. With all the time I spent tying down lawn furniture and getting candles and food in case we lost power and prepping the house...Incredibly disappointed. No loss of power, no flooded basement, minor debris...

I have many large, old trees around my house, most of which have branches that hang right over our bedrooms. Mater and I evacuated to my Aunt's house, just incase a tree should fall and destroy the house. As you can guess, that wasn't the case.

Pater lost power some time around 11 am this morning and has yet to get it back. Otherwise, everything is uneventful.

Last Sunday, a very dear woman became my Goddess mother. It was a wonderful ceremony, full of laughter and tears and vows and I'm so incredibly lucky to have this woman in my life. I'm sure Whimsy will agree with me.

I've gotten very absorbed in Doctor Who lately (yes, Whimsy, feel proud). It's on instant watch on Netflix, so Mater and I have been watching it almost nonstop. We're currently in season 3, with 1913 England and the Doctor having amnesia and prep-school boys and evil scarecrows. I don't know the episode name or number, can't you tell? So far, it's pretty good. Amnesiac Doctor is insanely adorable, I want to cuddle him.

It's still possible for me to hit fifty-two posts by the end of the year. Wish me luck!

Wander safely,
Arc.

Unhealthy

You are my sister. You are my best friend, my partner in crime, my go-to girl for everything.

And now you’re pushing me away. You’re demanding I leave you alone, ditching me for others, after nights and nights of promises. This isn’t some “we’re growing up and growing apart” scenario. We’re twenty years old. 

I know what happened, even though you haven’t told me. And it kills me to know you don’t trust me enough. I know you’re trying to handle it, or so you say; I know you’re ditching therapy whenever you can and not taking your medication. I know that you not telling me isn’t about me; it’s about you and the insanity endlessly circling your mind. But when all I have is the knowledge of you telling everyone but me what the problem is, people Iknow you don’t trust as much as me, what else am I supposed to think?

When your father abused you, you moved in with me. When my mother upset you, or other people made you feel worthless, I made everything okay. We may not share blood, but I’ve always considered you my most important person. You’ve always said that I was yours. Sometimes I wonder if that’s true.

My first tattoo was for you. It embellishes my skin in swirls of black and grey, a permanent stain of how much you meant to me, even though you insisted on getting its mate on your wrist without me. You went with a girl you hardly talk to anymore, yet were furious with me when I considered going without you. I forgave you.

You drove me from my own house, whether or not you meant to. You made me feel uncomfortable asking for time with my mother. You made me feel as if I was constantly wrong, inferior, a mistake, because I was raised with things you never had. I don’t know if I can forgive you.

You canceled an event that meant the world to me, and you knew it. Said you couldn’t handle it. But in reality, you just couldn’t stand the idea of me going without you, when I was the one that put all the work into it, when you put in nothing. I know you’ve endured so much; from your father to school to dyslexia to that night. I know you love me. But when you have a panic attack and say you can’t get over it unless I leave, I can’t forgive you.

It feels as if you hate me. As if I’m a curse, an affliction that needs to be cured. But I know I’m not the broken one. I’m not the one that manipulates their loved ones so I’m the only one in their lives. I’m not the one that flies off the handle over the smallest misinterpretation and attacks others over it for days. I’m not the one that lashes out at the only people who cared enough to take me in.

We took you in because we loved you. We wanted to help you, heal you, give you all the things you’ve been so unfairly denied. But having you in my life does me more harm than it does you good, and that’s not healthy.

You drive me to drink. Did you know that? The last two emotional blow ups have left me suckling bourbon from a bottle as if it were water, and you know I never drink. Yet here I am. 

You are my sister. You are my best friend, my partner in crime, my go-to girl for everything.

And I think it’s time you left.