When your Past is in your Present

So today I saw one of my sisters… by choice, so my fault, right? Despite the mega distance I moved away from my family of origin spiritually and emotionally, I only live about 40 minutes from them and my older sister works in the city I live on the outskirts of. I ended up right by her work place and long story short I went and said hi …

It was about 7-8 months since I last saw her and wow! I nearly didn’t recognise her! Big thing – she cut her hair!!! She’s always had hair down to her hips or beyond and it was a big thing in our family (hair being the glory, blah blah). And she just got her ears pierced too!! AND she just got her first ever smart phone!! All significant changes people! Oh yeah, and she went on holiday with another of our sisters- wtf?!

I am on one hand beyond pleased to see such big (yeah, I know, insignificant to ‘normal’ people) changes but the other part of me? The other part of me wanted to ask, ‘but why didn’t you do them with me?’ She is 34 and still living with the parents (all 3 of my siblings are) and one of my biggest hopes when I left 10 years ago was that I could show them it could be done and so I could be here on the outside for them when they needed it … I’ve never been needed.

A wise lady has suggested in the past that changes they’ve made might not have been made without what I did, but there is still a part of me that asks why they couldn’t have done that before I left. Does that make sense?

I now feel like a stranger looking in. I’m not a part of my sister’s changes, I’m just an occasional observer.

There is no way I still want to be there, but can you get how a part of my heart yearns for what possibly never was? Because we were so isolated, my sisters were absolutely everything to me – sisters, playmates, school friends, enemies, best friends. And now they’re nothing more than casual acquaintances with a painful history that they try to pretend isn’t there. And there are times when that still makes my heart physically throb with loss.

And what’s maybe worse? It makes me question if it was really as bad as I thought it was – and that, after all I’ve been through, brings me to my knees.

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