I am not going to be modest here, I am generally the most liked sibling for each one of my brothers and sisters even when I'm sarcastic, even when I'm outright mean. To be honest, we are all mean and sarcastic to one another, it's just how it goes. I like to think I have a pretty long fuse when it comes to being angry, being irritable is another story, but I don't get really angry like Patrick does in a matter of seconds after being made fun of (0 to 60 80% of the time *sigh* that kid).
However, one of my mom's favorite stories is the one of me chasing Jack from the dinner table after he went too far. I don't remember what we had been arguing about, but the last straw was when he threw a piece of food at my head. After which, I slammed my hands upon the table and stood up swiftly "You wanna go?" I asked. His terrified eyes seemed to be in shock for a moment before he bolted from his chair. He ran into a corner of the foyer, I stood over him, didn't even lay a hand on him and he started crying and apologized. I returned to the table, my mom acknowledged that Jack was in the wrong and I was not in trouble (if I had made a habit of this as Patrick does, I would have been sent to my room in a heartbeat), everyone aside from Jack was laughing.
Today, Erin, my mom, dad and I, were playing Racko. My dad had to go get Jack from a friends house, when they returned we resumed the game (though now Patrick was playing for my mom because she was making dinner) and Jack stood in the kitchen doorway talking to us. I cannot remember at all what I said, though I know it was a snide remark making fun of him. All I remember is him kicking me in the back (as my back was to him) and me chasing him into the family room. I slapped him, because I know that it would hurt for the time being, but wouldn't actually be enough to cause him that much lasting pain, but he kept kicking me even when I tried to disengage and walk away, he kicked me right in the chest, so I started kicking him as well until my mom's raised voice cut into my senses and I ran from Jack and went to defend my actions to her also in a raised voice. It just so happened that Alex returned home in the midst of this mess, probably the only funny thing about it. I ran upstairs, my chest and back burning from pain, hardly able to breathe through tears of anger and pain, put my stereo onto the highest volume and tried to read. My mom came up an hour later to talk to me and give me a hug.
Jack and I haven't spoken to each other since. I definitely think he caused me more pain than I did to him, while I was angry, I certainly didn't use all of my strength to attack him. I don't think I could, I don't think I know how. Sting him, yes, bruise him, never.
I can't decide if I'm sorry or not, even though I feel terrible about it.
I can't decide if I'm a terrible sister or not.
I can't decide how much of a terrible person I am or how much I can blame this on hormonal imbalances.
The only thing that comforts me is that my mom and her siblings were much, much worse to each other, and they all turned out on good terms.
3 comments:
My brother and I were completely awful to each other and we still are. It'll be better and you're not an awful sister. I stabbed him with a fork once.
I completely understand what you said about being able to hurt temporarily but not for long-term. Maggie and I can beat each other up pretty well, and usually I'm the one that ends up with the bruises. I don't think you're being a bad sister. Sometimes you get pushed over the edge. At least the edge is not a flight of stairs.
Thanks, both of you. It really was just an overly-emotional kind of day. I guess I just freaked out because I don't usually lose it like that.
And yes, at least the edge was not a flight of stairs.
Post a Comment