My sister and I spoke on the phone today. Over the years, she and I haven’t had much of a relationship, but as of late, that has been changing. She and I speak more frequently, sharing common neurosis’s and hang-ups, trying like hell to dig ourselves and each other out from under the weight of dysfunction and the ensuing depression. We didn’t have a very functional family, and it’s all either of us can do sometimes to feel like it’s even appropriate to have our own.
I think of this little girl in the picture, and how, when she was younger, her older sister meant so much to her. How she was so cool and beautiful. How she was her hero. How she just wished she could be with her.
Re-building a relationship with my sister has made me think of myself as a little girl.
When I was just a baby, I was pure, unadulterated love. I was innocent. I was worthy of a wonderful life, a happy life, a beautiful life.
I had no chance of that sort of life with my family, as they had no idea how to live happily, or beautifully. I feel so sorry for that sad little girl that felt like somehow she was responsible for her parents misery, and therefore deserved to be neglected.
My sister and I have to reclaim that original innocence and right to happiness now, as adults. We have both forgotten that we have a right to be loved and happy; we remind each other.
Someday soon, I hope that much of the work of regaining peace will be done for both of us, and we can relax. We will soon smile and laugh easily. We will rejoice in our accomplishments and in our relationship with one another.
[my water broke at 9:00 p.m.]