Being born on Christmas day is never going to be easy, but when your very birth is reason for your big sister to hate you, you know you’ve gotten off to a rocky start. Sure, I get it, waking up on Christmas morning to your parents not being there, only to be dragged to the hospital to see your parents doting over some red-faced newborn that resembles a shriveled up pumpkin more than an actual human being, sucks. But she was only five, surely she would get over it, or better yet, forget it entirely. Oh how easy life would have been if I was born into a family with fish-sized memories, instead, I was created by a band of memory-soaking bandits.
We all have the tendency to hold grudges, which, sadly, is a habit I inherited. If you’re wondering why I’m starting out with a rant about my brilliant grudge-holding abilities, it’s because my inability to forgive and forget is essentially the basis of every bit of drama I’ve encountered (and attracted/caused) my entire life. So, who do I have to thank for my epic grudge-holding abilities? Honestly, only myself.
My sister and I have barely spoken in months, and I have spent the better part of 2016 blaming her for it. But was our whole fight really her fault?
Let me start at the beginning. My sister can be very critical, and she enjoys making jokes at other people’s expense, and while this can be amusing at times, it can also be insanely frustrating. After 23-years of putting up with her attempt at humour I finally hit my wits-end.
She went into my husband’s bookstore when he was pretty swamped. Joked that he wasn’t really in charge, picked on numerous other aspects of his personality and store, and did so in front of his new staff members. Not surprisingly, my husband got a little ticked off by this, which resulted in me being bombarded by a stream of ticked-off messages saying he hates my family.
This, obviously, is not ideal.
Acting rashly, I then proceeded to message her to make it very clear that what she did was wrong. Well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened next…
Hence, the months of not talking. Well, with Christmas on the horizon, I’m feeling a little reflective, and I now understand why she was so mad at me. I acted quickly and irrationally, and accused her of doing something wrong, when she was really just doing her best to be nice. Sure, her nice isn’t exactly an all-encompassing meaning of the word, but she was still doing her best.
Maybe if our relationship hadn’t of gotten of to such a rocky, un-Christmassy start we wouldn’t always be tip-toeing around each other. But, alas, shit happens.
What’s done is done, I have apologised, but there isn’t much more I can do about a long-passed fight. All I can say is, she’s one of the only sisters I have, and no matter what, even when we’re fighting, she’ll always be there for me. Because that’s what sisters do – they’re there for you no mater what. So, despite everything, as much as I wished for a brother or someone nicer when I was a kid – I wouldn’t ever want a different sister.