I’ve been told so many times how lucky I am to have a sister.
A person to be my forever friend. That person who truly understands me like no other.
And, in all intents and purposes, that sounds pretty amazing; like one of the best gifts that a girl could ever be given. But what they don’t tell you, or what I don’t share when people go on and on about how blessed I am, are the feelings of jealousy, sadness and anger that I have also encountered as a part of being a sister. I don’t know why I used encounter in the past tense, just there, because it still happens—for me, it’s a daily struggle.
You see, I am the older one. The one who is supposed to be the role model who does no wrong, who carries off her responsibilities effortlessly, who acts like an adult far before her time, and most importantly, the one who takes care of the littler one(s).
And so that’s what I’ve done.
So while my sister did the cheerleader, I’m super popular, crazy and young sort of thing during high school, I did the FBLA president, close group of friends, safe fun kind of thing. And while I don’t regret the person that I am, (because I love my friends and the memories we have more than anything)I still can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the social life she’s led. However, I certainly do not covet the fakeness of her world, not at all; so once again one could argue if the grass is really greener.
Because of her social life, I have also experienced feelings of hurt and rage over many different encounters that she and I have had. To me there is nothing more frustrating than to do and do and do for a person and have their reception and reaction to be one of expectation, an I deserve this kind of attitude. Absolutely no thanks, no gratitude, no appreciation—nothing. Simply another, Can you do this for me now?
On top of that, I have never felt more hurt than when she chose for the one billionth time to hang out with her friend and her friend’s older sister rather than me. So I don’t have the 29,285 “friends” at my beck and call or all the crazy stories, but I certainly shouldn’t be made to feel bad because I don’t have the “right” ones that will make me “cool” in her eyes. Because I know that I am more than that. I know I am better than that.
So when she stands in the kitchen, after I’ve done so much for her in the past week alone, I can’t help but feel my entire demeanor dissolve when in all seriousness she says, “You know, I don’t really like you anyway,” before turning and continuing her conversation with the other person in the room.
Now I know that I’m in no way a perfect sister, nor is this post supposed to be some sort of poor Hannah kind of thing, but it’s simply how I feel today and I needed to share.
I know that I am blessed to have a sister; this person who understands me better than anyone. We’ve had so many awesome memories together and hopefully we will make so many, many more. I know that I’m so lucky to have her.
And I know that at the end of the day, I love her to the moon and back, and that I would do absolutely anything in the world to see her smile.
So sometimes, sometimes, I would just really like to know that she feels the same.