Just another black sheep story…

Hi guys. I hope everyone who celebrates had a nice Easter. Sorry I haven’t been on much lately. It seems like everything that can go wrong will go wrong over at the trailer right now. Mostly, it’s a plumbing issue. They connected pipes with wrong size fittings. The pipes themselves consist of a collection of galvanized steel, copper, pvc, rubber hoses, and hoses meant for rv/camper plumbing. It’s a mess, so the husband is having to start at one end and basically repipe almost the entire system. He sees a vision, I see a lot of work I don’t know how to do. Life is definitely an adventure married to that man.

I’ve told you before that holidays are hard for me. It’s down to just the four of us now. For me, it’s mostly just cooking an extra fancy meal for the same three people I’ve been feeding for what seems like forever now.

I’ve been disowned by essentially my entire family. I don’t know why. None of them even have the decency to tell me why. They just don’t talk to me anymore. I still talk to my father on a semi regular basis. He tries to fix the rift between my mother and I. The thing is, I think it’s always been there. Maybe she suffered from postpartum depression when she had me. Whatever the reason, I’m pretty sure she never bonded with me. I’ve always known that my relationship with my mother was different than her relationship with my sisters.

I have four sisters. One of them is older than me. I remember her and mom being like best friends when I was a kid. They talked about everything. They had so much in common. I’m the second oldest. We are almost four years apart. I was almost seven when our middle sister was born. She was mom’s favorite. She was like a little doll. She clung to mom and hated to let her out of her site. Mom says I pushed her away when I was a baby, never wanting her to hold me. I bet that a child who never wanted to be put down was a refreshing change. She was also mom’s right hand man after my parents divorced shortly following my eighteenth birthday.

I was twelve when the twins were born. The older twin is the only of my four sisters that I still talk to. When the twins were born, there was an emergency between their births. The first twin was born vaginally while the second came by emergency c-section. This brought the older one home earlier than our baby sister. She was mine. I babysat a lot. I spent a lot of time with her. I was present for the birth of her son. I was holding one of her legs while the father held the other one. My relationship with her has always been different, but it didn’t mean I loved the rest of my sisters any less.

A while back, I had deleted the one sister I still talk to off of my Facebook. It was hurting too much to watch my family’s lives go on without me. It was a wrong choice to make. It served it’s purpose, though. I missed knowing that the other twin had gotten married, and I hadn’t gotten so much as an announcement. I hated missing out on my niece and nephew’s moments as they were shared on Facebook. I hated not seeing their cute pics and videos.

Recently, my sister added me back on her Facebook. I’d missed them terribly, so, of course, I accepted. Which brings me to why I am writing this post now. I was having a hard time with Easter. I was feeling sad and lonely and missing the large holidays of my childhood surrounded by laughter and conversation. I was missing being a part of something bigger than me. I was scrolling through Facebook (a place I wouldn’t have been if I were surrounded by family and fun) when that baby sister I still talk to posted pictures from our middle sister’s wedding.

It was like being stabbed through the heart. I didn’t know there could be a pain so great. By the time dinner rolled around, I was telling my husband and kids that this might just be the last Easter I ever do. It was just too painful.

Yesterday, the pain was still so great. I had a conversation via text with my dad. Mostly, I did the talking. I told him he has to stop trying to push me back into that family. I told him that he needs to not include me in those group chats anymore. I told him that I love him and he’s my dad and he’s so important to me. I told him he needs to just accept and understand that my family is just smaller than his family is.

At the peak of the pain, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I called my baby sister. The one I still talk to. She answered the phone and I immediately asked her, will I be invited to your wedding? I had to ask her three times because I was crying so hard she couldn’t even understand me. By the end of my conversation with her, I felt much better. The cry and the chat were a cathartic blend for me.

 

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4 thoughts on “Just another black sheep story…

    1. Thank you, Michelle. It has been hard and painful. But I’ve decided it brought me down long enough. I’m going to do what I do best. I’m gonna dust myself off, stand up tall, and harness all my strength to move past it and get on with my life. My family may be small, but I’ve got an amazing (and patient) husband and two incredibly awesome kids. What more can a girl ask for? 😃

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      1. Good for you! You know, when I was growing up, our entire family lived down South so it was always just mom, dad, me and my sister for holidays….and I have the best memories. I cherish those times now that I live down South and every holiday involves traipsing to someone else’s house.

        You are lucky and it sounds like you know it. ❤

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