Something Good.

I hate, hate, hate… seriously turn to Hulk when I hear that stupid saying…

Something good will come from this.

I have spent a long time and recently, a week trying to figure out how to make something “good” come out of the death of my little sister.

I sat down Friday night and started writing about 2 pages of the truth behind it all and I couldn’t finish it because I had to leave for work. I was inspire by so many of my wonderful writer friends and was almost hoping the all the emotions I went through in the last 10 years would benefits somebody.

See, shortly after I lost my sister and my best friend, there was an musician’s family who lost a little one too. I let a comment on their page and at the time, I really wished I could’ve reached out to their son. But, that didn’t go anywhere and it’s probably a good thing. I didn’t handle my sister’s death very well–I kept many things to myself and just kept trekking on until–well, just trying to survive. Many of those truths won’t come out even now, but here is what I have learned.

Don’t say “something good will come from this” to someone who is grieving. You sit there and just tell them you love them, that you’re sorry and that you’re there if they need you.

Don’t judge them for how they come off. I can tell you for a fact, I faked happy so much. I faked okay for several years, but I had a new “family” that knew the truth. My mom and I, we butted heads (didn’t point later one), I found a friend’s family who would let me hang out at their house whenever I wanted to. I would hang out on my friend’s bed while he played video games and cry into a pillow. He didn’t judge. He knew I wasn’t okay. He didn’t stare at me or ask stupid questions. Excuse me for coming off as “dark”. I had just lost my best friend and my sister, the one person in my family that I knew would love me no matter what–the two people who would listen to my shit no matter how fucked up and not judge me. I called my best friend several times a week either because I wanted to hurt myself or because I had. He didn’t yell at me or tell me I was stupid. He would ask what led up to it, what happened, and then we’d talk about something else. Again, more secrets that won’t come out about this situation.

People will blame you, but it doesn’t mean it was your fault. You didn’t plan for it to happen or make it happen. Yeah, I had people blame me. I had people who went to school with my best friend (before he moved to where I lived) blame me, ask if alcohol or drugs had been involved, make all kinds of comments. I had someone who I thought was my friend (another story) send me a message saying that he heard about my little sister and that he went to “defend her” because someone said she got what she deserved–no one gets what they deserve in a fucking accident. Truth be told–I am sure this accident has fucked up any chances I have at having a “normal” relationship with my family. Family holidays, birthdays–any time I see my family I have to wonder what they are thinking. See, my mom admitted she blamed me for it for a while–go figure, even the newspapers did. I don’t remember what happened, but I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have killed my two best friends.

Let me tell you this, you go through the “seven stages of grief” your whole life. It has been 9 1/2 years and after a lot of bullshit, I still go through them. Like now, I still don’t understand it–and I am not sure that this is something you ever understand–but, I still get upset and angry.

But, to be honest, I am exhausted of putting up a fake front for so many people. So, here it is–I am angry at people who tried to steal my happy moments with my best friends and make them theirs. I told my best friend several things and she took a moment that I had with my sister, she took the fact that my best friends seat belt broke and he landed on me when the car rolled–she told the world.

She stole my happy moment with my sister. She lied to my best friend’s mom–do you know how hard it is for a 16 year old to try and tell her friend’s mom (who she met once) how sorry she is, let alone that her son “wasn’t a hero”?! I didn’t have to, because she was a smart lady and knew that he couldn’t have seen it coming. He was a hero, so don’t get me wrong. I know he would’ve saved us both that night. But, in reality–he did. He saved my life more times than he will ever know. At 16 years old, I can tell you I felt truthful say that I felt safe for the first time in my life–I got two hugs from that guy and it was heaven. We all have that friend that gives the best hugs, well that was his. They were strong, but soft–full of love and life.

They will always be a part of my life. But, excuse me while I let the bitter surface. I am tried of faking and pretending that what people do doesn’t hurt.

I am not my sister and I will never be. I judge people. I don’t make friends as easily. I am not a “short, cute, little” girl.

I don’t have half the confidence she thought I did. 

I slept around, sent nudes of myself, and drank my way through a few years–trying to find my value.

I was 18-19 years old before I actually had a “boyfriend”–and I mean something besides some silly girly crush that felt half arranged by family. 

I am tired–physically exhausted of not feeling good enough. 

I can’t do everything–2 jobs, school, perfect mom, wife…

I am tired of feeling second-priority (in a lot of ways). 

I am done living my life for other people–no tattoos, limited piercings, blah hair… I am over it. I had a picture in my head of who and what I was going to be when I was younger (at one point stripper, but we won’t go there) and I am gonna do it. 

I am sorry this last bit turned into more of a pity party, but the gist of it is–if you are faced with this situation, every feeling you go through is normal. Hating yourself, wanting to died–I am sorry, but it’s all a part of the process. It’s not that it gets easier, but you get stronger, you learn to live with it.

Don’t let people judge you for how you handle it, you are doing your damn best. The people who blame you, that says something about them, not you.

Keep fighting the good fight. There’s more people out there who are fighting a similar fight.


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