My entire life I've been that girl - that Hermione girl. The one who sits in the front of the class, and always knows the answers. (P.S. - we don't always know the answers. We just know enough of them to create the illusion we know all the answers). The one who is always too careful, who measures every decision. The one who has never taken a major risk in her life. The one who looks flawless. The one who everyone always says is too nice, too talented, to smart, too perfect.
Here's the reality. I have a family that sitcom writers would die to observe. I'm 23 years old, and I just had my first break up. Well, sort of. I spent the first 17 years of my life being ridiculed, learning how to blend into the bookcases so people wouldn't notice me. My entire life I've felt sort of . . . smothered. I've always wanted to be the risk taker, the naughty girl everyone loves, who always seems to get through all the scrapes.
Here's the cast of my life. I'm the middle child. My older sister, T, is the most fiscally irresponsible person I've ever met, and her most amazing life skills are believing everyone in the world adores her (while annoying the crap out of them) and finding a way to blame the cosmos for everything that goes wrong in her life. She's 25, and she's never lived on her own. Ever. She's also never bought a car on her own, at least not successfully. She's heavily in debt to the federal government, credit cards, and my parents . . . but finds money for a large CD collection and a trip south to see family. My little sister, S, is a pain in the ass . . . but also one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet. She's definitely a strange combination. I'm the only person in her life who has ever held her accountable for her actions, and I'm more parent than sister to her.
My dad is 63 years old, and has been disabled for the last 20+ years of that life. When I was in high school I assumed he wouldn't live to see me graduate college; when I was in college, I assumed he wouldn't live to see me graduate law school. Law school graduation will be here in a year and a half, and he's still kicking so far. We've had so many near misses and scares with him that I sort of always assume he'll pull through. I haven't actually talked to him in weeks because I hate talking to him. In high school he was my favorite person in the world, and I could spend hours talking to him. Now he talks too much about "signing bonuses" that don't exist in my mid-western city (at least not for recent grads of law school) and what I need to do to "make it." When he's not talking about that, he's ragging on my mom or trying to talk politics - and his political beliefs are light years away from mine. I know that when he's gone I'll miss this time, but it's simply too much stress to be both a parent to him, dispensing advice, and child, expected to "father knows best" at the drop of a hat and then hear a million and one schemes to make the family rich. I learned long ago to deal with dad's physical deterioration; the mental deterioration, however, is what really rips a family apart.
My mom is one of the strongest people I've ever met. She deals daily with my dad and my grandma, both of whom are in bad health (and like people to believe they are in worse health than they actually are). She can be annoying, but I give her a lot more leeway than most people because of everything she has to do on a daily basis. That said, she's become entirely too reliant on me. Over the past 10 years our family has grown a pattern where my sisters will drop a ball, and I'll pick it up. So . . . I'm the only person willing to help Mom since my sisters suck, and Mom just expects me to automatically help, to pick up the slack when she can't. She nearly went blue in the face when I told her I was only coming home for a week at Christmas instead of my entire four week break. Eventually she admitted that I'm an adult now and free to do what I want, and that working the other three weeks was a valid reason not to be at home taking care of everyone, but she still puffs up when I mention not being home on a break.
Other characters will weave in and out of this narrative. Most of them are friends, some are enemies. I work at a small firm as a law clerk; most of my co-workers are sweet, wonderful people. I have one amazing best friend, C, and a substitute older sister, A. A and I worked together last summer at an Upward Bound program (look them up - they're amazing) where we were also students as high school students. One of the saddest facts in my life right now is not being able to go back and work there again this summer. (Remember the break up . . . sorta? Well, he's from that program as well.) I also have a therapist, Doc, who's pretty awesome. Then there are my law school best-ies, Ash and Char. As I'm writing this, I'm realizing how many awesome friends I have - there are several more that I'll introduce to you by and bye. It's astounding to me considering just a couple of years ago I had fewer than five people I could truly call "friend."
So what's the point of this blog? It's a way for me to share my journey to being free. My most favorite song ever is Standing Outside the Fire by Garth Brooks. I've always felt that I'm one of those people who stands outside the fire because it's safer. This is the story of me learning to stand inside the fire, to take chances and risks even though I might get hurt. To run free. To discover that the girl I've always wanted to be, and always wanted people to see, is here. And she's me.
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