My sister is the first “real” person I told anything to about this entire situation. She majored in human sexuality and therefore I felt as if she knew a few more of the things than I did. Well truthfully I didn’t know what the eff to do and I knew she would. So I told her. I drove down by myself and told her I wanted to tell her something and I just said it. In a sense I think I wanted to talk about it. Tell someone. I wanted to rant all night I wanted to cry infront of someone and have someone to care. Then I got there. I choked. Hard core. The only thing I could mutter out was what happened to me. Then I locked it away in that same box somewhere really deep.
Her help didn’t stop there, it was more than a weekend with my sister. It was someone I could finally talk to. Someone to encourage me, someone to listen to me, and someone to understand. Perhaps this year more than last I have used her more than ever. I have called her as a helpline and cried for a long time with her on the other end trying to understand my sobs. I have told her my fears and I have voiced a few of the things that I have been other wise afraid to tell anyone.
I know in a previous post I said my brother is my role model, but my sister, my sister is my friend. She is someone who understands me. She listens. She is happy when I am, and she is caring when I am sad. I am extremely blessed to have someone who knows something a little more than I do, to have someone who can keep a level head when I can. Well and someone to say “That’s bull shit.” Because sometimes I need to tell my inner critic that “that’s bull shit. I’ve got a right to cry today.”
If it weren’t for my sister and her major, I can’t help but wonder.Who would I still be hiding this from?