Kristy McNicol, Where Are You?
Posted on | February 4, 2009
Our place in our family. What is it?
You are the youngest of two. The middle of three. The eldest of nine. Or, like me, the youngest of seven. It’s all the same, isn’t it?
There is always history that defines you.
Your place in that shared history…that REALLY defines you.
Siblings can be amazing. They really can.
Those who saved me from a plethora of hurt are the same people who I readily criticize.
I’m not trying to place blame I’m, really, not.
This is about ownership.
I own my family, they own me. But I can’t be a party to the internal squabbling that tends to go on.
This one is angry at that one.
That one is frustrated with the other.
It goes on and on.1
I can honestly say that when I’m with even the blackest of sheep in my family, I still love them and have a good time.
Maybe that’s the blessing AND the curse of being the youngest.
The one great thing about being the youngest is that I can look at the my elders and pick and choose behaviour’s.
I tend to be flexible when I’m with one or the other. Bend to their thinking and their will.
The downside is that I become the sounding board. The back board for their ‘dunks’ against the other.
I guess why I’m writing this is because I believe, fundamentally, that you chose your friends2 but you’re born into your family.
For a reason.
That reason is still to be determined.
You get to a point where you decide that the family you born into has merit and deserves respect.
And mine does.
By God, does it ever.
For all their baggage and marvelous “hang ups”, they deserve some respect.
They accept me for MY faults3 just as I have to accept them for theirs.
I had to sit down and dine with a sibling, not the black sheep mind you, but one that I’m not particularly fond of right now but you know what?
She’s still my sister.
I remember times when it was just her and I. When, as the youngest, I looked to her for guidance4 and for cultural touch-stones that would help me evolve to who I am now.
There were times I had to choke back what I truly wanted to say but the reality is, if I’d questioned her, I would have made the dinner uncomfortable for the others.
No, I didn’t enjoy seeing her.
I tried, over and over5 to open the door to conversation but to no avail.
We just will never look at life with the same eyes. Same parents, same up-bringing et all.
So I have two options.
#1 - Accept her for who she is.
#2 - Turn her away at the door.
She still is, after all is said and done, my sister. And I love her.
I just wish I had the fortitude to speak it aloud.
I’m not saying that if your point of view varies so greatly from that of your family that you should stand around and accept humiliation or abuse…
If your P.O.V. is so contrary to theirs, there might not be a ‘middle ground’.
But, please, for God’s sake, pick your battles wisely.
God knows I’m trying.
- and on and on and on and on… [↩]
- and I have KICK ASS ones [↩]
- and by GOD there are many!!!! [↩]
- and don’t think I don’t remember the time she made me eat an acorn - bitter to say the least [↩]
- three times to be exact [↩]
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2 Responses to “Kristy McNicol, Where Are You?”
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February 6th, 2009 @ 10:29 am
You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick family. I think the adversity is good, cos it reminds you during the times that your ego might be a little too big that you’re just part of the pecking order. That’s my take on this, anyways.
February 8th, 2009 @ 12:54 am
But you can’t pick your friends nose
Yeah, family does keep us humble, don’t it?