If you think this is ONLY about a personal trial that I endured, you're sadly mistaken. I am going to share with you, a bit of my life that not many know about and how happy that I made it through, and more importantly, my sister.
Laurel and I laugh about the things I would do to her as a kid, but I'm actually pretty happy that she didn't grow up to be an addict of some sort because of her traumatic childhood. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad but I feel pretty bad for the things that I would do to her. I would pin her down, lean over her face and let a slow and steady stream of saliva drip out of my mouth and right before it hit her face, I would slurp it back in my mouth. That was the plan at least. But once in a while, the stream o' saliva would be out of my control and actually land on her face. Geez, just seeing this in words makes me realize how utterly disgusting that was... Then there was the tickling....my sister is the MOST ticklish person I have ever known. If you hold your hand anywhere near her and move you fingers as if you are tickling her, she would start laughing or better yet, let out a squeal. I would tickle her until she couldn't breathe. Now before you think I was trying to kill her, please understand that this child would cry so hard when getting her diaper changed, she would pass out. Or when she got hurt, she would first let out what we call, "The Siren". Imagine a siren on an emergency vehicle and how the sound starts out lower in sound and then intensifies. Except, when Laurel's "siren" intensified, she would turn blue and my mom would be yelling at her, "LAUREL! BREATHE! BREATHE LAUREL!" Any time we would rough-house and she would get hurt, I would say, "Don't tell Mom! Don't tell Mom! Shhhhhh! Don't cry! Don't cry!" and I would just pray that the siren wouldn't go off! So obviously physical torturing like spitting on my sister, tickling her in misery, or beating her up, only forced her to engage what I would like to call, "Cerebral torture". I hate Oomp-Loompa's with a passion. The small stature, the orange skin, the deep voices....it's kind of like an elephant being afraid of a mouse. You would think that this big "Corn-fed Barbie" couldn't possibly be scared of a fictional candy making little person, but I am. So out of nowhere, I would be in my room and I would hear the candy making chant of, "Oomp Loompa doo-pa-dy do...." Oh, and let's not forget about Furbies. Do any of you remember those little freaks? They were like little Gremlins with fur and buggy eyes. I HATED those things...I would walk into Laurel's room (when no one was in there) and I would hear in a high pitched voice, "Mama". Ugh! That send chills down my spine just hearing that voice in my head. Well, she would go and hide those little spawns of the devil in my room and just wait for me to scream and beg for her to come and get those damn things out of my room....again, the elephant afraid of a mouse.
So besides the obvious torture, there was the torture that we both endured...the unintentional torture. For several years, in middle school and high school, I suffered from severe depression and anxiety. That may be surprising to some of the people that I met later in my life, but part of the reason that I am who I am today is because of what I went through. Understand that because of this condition and the high doses of medication I was on to help with my anxiety, I was in a whole other world. Those years of my life are a complete blur. A lot I remember but it's like recalling a memory of someone else...out of body almost. I would fight with my mom every morning before school, normally resulting in me having an anxiety attack and my mother in tears. Laurel was forced to tag along for several doctors appointments since my Dad worked out of town so Mom was doing it by herself. She saw things a kid shouldn't see....the breakdowns, the anxiety attacks, the verbal fights and yelling....it brings tears to my eyes when I think of things Laurel witnessed. She didn't deserve that. My parents didn't deserve that. There were times that I would ask my mom why I had to deal with this. But what I now think about is, why did my young sister have to go through that. She didn't have a "big sister". She had a sick sister. Understand that there are 6 years between us in age, so when we were younger, we really didn't have a lot in common anyway. But I didn't know about what was going on in her school, I wasn't there when/if she was upset about anything. Those years of my life are a complete blur. Yes, I missed the years that should of been the most memorable like going with my friends to high school football games and dances. But what pains me the most is missing those years of my sister.
Since I've been better, I have tried to be there for Laurel and include her in my happy moments when I could/can. I watched her show her goats in high school, went along to shop for her prom dress, cried as I watched her walk across the stage for her high school graduation, had the honor of her being the maid of honor in our wedding, had her there when my daughter was born and be her Godmother, and just calling to meet up for lunch, have drinks, or take a trip to the coast. But now, I got to see her walk the stage as she graduated from college. Something that I never had the desire to do. I just wanted to get married and be a Mom...that's my passion. Her's is to be an educated and successful woman. I am so incredibly proud of her! She has worked pretty much full time and gone to school full time. She is going to be doing something that she loves and has a passion for and more than anything, THAT is what makes me most happy. She has accomplished so much. The fact that I look up to HER makes me both sad and happy. My sadness comes from the years of the unintentional torture she endured during my tough years. She didn't have a sibling to look up to....I don't blame her if she hated me during those horrible years. I want her to know that wasn't me....I didn't want to go through all that....I didn't want her to go through all that, but she did. There are no words to say how thrilled I am to see her grow up into such a successful, intelligent, loving, strong, and dedicated woman. I believe that some of my family worried about what my future would hold, and if I would ever pull out of what I was going through. I know my grandmother always makes it a point to tell me how lucky I am to land such a wonderful husband and that she never thought that I would get married because of "everything" I went through....yeah, thanks Nanny... But did they worry if Laurel would make it through too? I did. I pray that one day Peyton will be just like her. In my eyes, she's perfect... she's smart, she's determined, she's focused, she strong in her faith, strong in her beliefs...she's loving, she's smart, she's beautiful.... I love her and I am thrilled beyond words of what she has become!
So on a lighter note, I would also like to say, "You're Welcome!" Because without my tickling, saliva, and rough-housing, you Miss Laurel Marie, wouldn't be the bad-ass you are today! I love you seester!
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