Sunday, February 21, 2010

Sibling Fights

I hate fights with my siblings.

I mean, I realize they are inevitable. Cain killed Abel. Jacob stole Esau's birthight. Leah and Rachel shared a love interest. Aaron freaking built a gold calf while Moses was away. Mary never helped Martha. And Jesus' brothers thought he needed a serious reality check. If the bible is any indication, the very fact I have brothers and sisters is going to mean, on some level, my life is going to suck.

But I still hate fighting with my siblings.

I hate it.

In my nearly 22 years of life, my brothers and sisters are the only ones who haven't run away when the going gets tough. They are the only ones I have been able to count on and lean on. In some cases, they are the only ones I trusted with the most real parts of me. We're presidents of each other's fan clubs, the loudest cheerleaders, the biggest supporters.

Except when we fight.

When we fight I feel like everthing I've counted on in terms of necessary human contact has slapped me in my face. When you only have a few people you really trust and that trust is broken...when the support you lean on has left you free falling to th ground...when you're the biggest, the best, the loudest - for them - and they throw it back in your face.

Then it sucks.

Fights don't last. And the cloth my family is cut from means that wounds will heal and all will be forgiven in the end. But until then, well, I guess, life is just going to have to suck.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

When the Days are Long...

I have been awake for almost 22 hours. It is just a hair shy of midnight right now. In the last 22 hours, I have been in class for 3, meetings for 2, and a Puerto Rico sewing project night thing for 3. (If you're keeping track, we're now up to 8). I spent 2 hours putting together things for my building, writing e-mails, confirming maintenance reports and putting up posters. (10). I have spent somewhere in the ballpark of 6 hours on homework (16) and an hour getting to where I need to go and back (17). The other five hours? Listening. Phone conversation, two chat messages, five in person conversation, one e-mail, two texts. (That's 11 in all if you're still counting) All from different people. I became the ears to listen and the shoulders to bear everything else. I didn't sign up for this job. As someone up before 3am this morning, I didn't want this job today. I didn't understand why the kid who couldn't string words together to make a sentence looked like the target for everyone's bad days, bad lifes, bad moments, and by-the-ways-so-you-can-know's. The introvert in me desperately wanted my own little world. I wasn't prepared to deal with everyone else's. I can hardly, today, deal with my own. And every person I could think to bring my life to - to help me deal with the day I could not, were people who's days I myself had been asked to carry. It's hard to be the confidant and feel like there is no one for you yourself to confide in. But it's probably just my psychosis talking - when the days are long, my exhaustion places me there...