I want my brother back.

The only thing I remember about my first day of high school is my brother. I remember him walking me to my locker, telling me everything I need to know, and telling me not to be nervous or scared. He made sure I had everything I needed, and that I could get the locker open. I remember him walking me to my first hour class to make sure I didn’t get lost. Him and I went through all of my classes again, and he told me to find him if anyone messes with me. At the end of the day, I found him waiting by my locker for me. He wanted to make sure I found the bus and that I didn’t miss it.
A couple weeks into the school year, I decided I didn’t like my locker, and so he shared his locker with me. he didn’t mind that I cleaned it for him, and was always organizing everything. He wanted to make sure that I was taken care of.

I remember my brother always instilling in my sister and I that we must respect everyone. No matter how someone treats you, or talks to you, you must respect them. He taught me to stand up for myself and my sister. He showed me that if anyone does something to my sister that I don’t like, I can tell them to stop.

My brother always made sure I could go to him. If someone at school was being mean to me, or a guy was harassing me, I would go to him. I wouldn’t worry about anything; I knew my brother would make the situation better.

When I was a junior, my brother a senior, he found how amazing alcohol is.

And he is no longer my brother.

I hate the monster that has taken over.
The way he treats his family. The way he threatens my sister, mom, and I. I know that is not my brother.

My brother would never come home high when he knows my grandma is visiting.

My brother would never steal money from my parents in order to get drunk.

I hate when he tells us that he needs beer, more than anything. And he doesn’t care what happens to us, as long as he can drink.

I hate that he will admit he is an alcoholic and that he needs help, but refuse to get any.

I hate how much it hurts the family.

I hate looking at my mom and seeing how sad and how much pain she is in.

I hate that my sister never got to know the brother that I got to know.

I want my brother to see what he is doing, and to care enough to change it.

I want my brother back.

how do they do it?

Things I need to do:
My laundry because the pile is getting really big and I can only borrow a couple pair of my mom’s socks before she notices and gets mad

I know at the time I couldn’t find the flat sheet I wanted for my bed, but now that I have, I think I can take the top sheet that I am using off and put on the actual fitted one, because having to fix it every night before I go to sleep is getting sort of annoying

Book clubs are stressful; I have to read 200 more pages by Sunday, when will I have the time? No idea, but I will find it.

I got out my craft supplies the other day, fully intent on doing a project and then something came up, so my craft supplies? Thrown about my bedroom, making it even more of a mess.

I need to sleep, I am exhausted. But my brain will not shut off until the wee hours of the morning, and then it has decided not to let me sleep past 11am.


This is a small list of all of the stuff I have to do, but have no time to do or fix. With working and being social and making sure everyone is happy, I run out of time. I don’t even work full time. I do not know how people that work full time find the time to have a life and be social and have social networks. It is so much work. I just have so much respect for those people.

Perfect

Reasons why 5’6’’ and 1/4th is the perfect height:

• Wheat eating off of the counter, I don’t have to bend down at all. It is perfect height for me
• When walking by the lake I don’t have to duck from the branches of the trees
• I can reach the top shelf in the cupboard by going on my tiptoes and stretching just. A . little.
• People can see above my head when sitting in the movie theatre
• My head fits perfectly on Stacy’s shoulder when we hug
• I am in the middle of what Gordon views as the perfect spooning height
• My feet don’t touch the ground when swinging, even though I am almost 21
• People see me as tall, even though I am not
• My heels won’t get dusty if I am with a tall enough guy.
• I am tall enough to go on roller coasters

Jealousy

It drives me bonkers when people cannot be happy for others. It boggles my mind when one person has to be the center of attention all the time. Honestly, I do not like being center of attention. I am more than willing to be the conversation starter and get people talking and mingling but then I will fade into the background while they talk, and emerge again when people need another conversation starter. I am more than happy to be the butt of jokes, I honestly do not mind. I enjoy making sure every single person is having a good time, even if that means at my own expense.

Valentine’s Day was amazing. More than amazing, it was perfect and better than I ever thought it would be. I got the most amazing card ever, and cried when flowers were delivered. And then, Stacy came over and we opened a gift certificate to a spa. Totally amazing, her and I have never gone to a spa before, so it would be a new experience for both of us. And something we could enjoy together.


But she started getting really moody and upset; like something was wrong, when nothing really was. She couldn’t be happy for me or enjoy it with me; instead she made me feel bad. And that is not right. I know she likes being the center of attention, and I honestly don’t mind that, but for once, it was me that was the center of attention. And she couldn’t just accept that; I feel that it was very high school like.

Since the beginning of my new relationship (tada! I guess that is the announcement?) She has been acting like this a lot. He is an AMAZING guy, and I am the center of his world. And it’s like Stacy is upset that it’s not her that is the center of his world. He and I are trying SO HARD to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. I am making sure to go out with her and keeping our traditions. I am making sure to text her and hang out with her and do spontaneous things. But it’s like, she can’t be happy for me because it’s not her that has the attention on her.

It’s like she wants me to feel bad and feel like a horrible friend. It’s like she wants me to end my relationship to make her happy, so she can be front and center again.

And I hate to tell her this, but that, is not going to happen. She needs to stop acting so immature and if she can’t be happy for me, she can at least pretend to be.

To love him

The desktop background on my computer is a picture of Lucas (my nephew) and the side of my head. That picture was taken last year around new years. He has a rash around his mouth because he was teething and we couldn’t get the drool to stop.

I am looking at him. And he is looking at the camera, I am sure he got sick of seeing that thing.

I wish I could look at him now. In real life. I wish I could hear his laugh and calm him when he cries.

I miss him so much.

When his mom visits Minnesota he gets to stay at our house, and I loved it. I wake up in the morning and see him. I hold him and love him and let him sleep on me. When his mom took him so he could go with her to Texas, I put him in his car seat, and kissed him and told him I loved him.

When she walked up the steps, I stayed and Lucas stretched his arms out, as if he wanted me to go with him. His eyes looked like he wanted me to hold him, just one last time.

I don’t mind when he is cranky and has to be entertained all the time, I was the one that found he loved looking in the mirror.

When he was cranky we had to hold him and wiggle him and keep him busy at all times, and since he was teething, it got rather challenging. But it was worth it. I would take him cranky any day.

I loved when I would rock him to sleep; he is just like me in that way. He wiggles and moves and switches positions and then just crashes. I like knowing him and I share that trait.

I want the little guy in my arms, he makes me feel complete. I just want to love him.

Banana!

I love the site ‘mylifeisaverage.com’; they just seem to be exactly like me. The people on that site are always talking about mailing bananas, and how people say they can’t but they do. Well, I goggled and found out that you can!

So my friend in California was the target of my experiment. Before Christmas, I got a banana, addressed it and drove to the post office. I got a little scared so instead of going in, I opted for putting my banana in the blue box outside; thinking it would be fine since I had a stamp on it.

A few days later, I got my banana back WITH A POST-IT attached, saying I need more postage.

A few days later and a new banana (I wanted a green one so by the time he got it, it would be ready for him to eat it) I went to the post office. This time, I went in.

It was the week before Christmas and the line was long. I walked in with my banana and held my head high. People were looking at me as if I was crazy, I felt like all eyes were on me, and my banana. Finally I let them know ‘I read online you can mail a banana, so I thought I would try it’ the girl next to me was very negative and told me how ridiculous it is; I should put it in a box or something. My reaction? ‘Yea, but how happy would it make you if you woke up, and checked your mail; and there, in your mailbox was a banana? It would make your day’ and she agreed and another women chimed in and agreed and said, at least now they have some excitement; see if the banana gets through or not.

They started talking amongst themselves and finally it was my turn to go up. I held my breath and did a little prayer, and up I walked.

I was lucky and got the nice lady that helped me with my cupcakes before. She smiled and looked really happy. I told her I would like to mail my banana. She mailed it and I asked if anyone has tried this before.

She said no, but a couple weeks ago they found a banana in their box outside, but it didn’t have enough postage so they sent it back. I said ‘omg!! That is what happened to me!’ and she then informed me, with a really big smile, it was probably my banana.

So, I told her I would let her know if it made it or not, and she was really excited. As I was walking out I heard her yell ‘remember that banana we found?! That was her!!’


Well, the banana never made it.

I think it was a mix of the holidays and them being busy though.

So, on Monday, I went back to the post office with my banana.

The nice lady wasn’t there, and I had a grumpy man that CHECKED to see if I could mail a banana, even though I told him I had done it before.

Thank goodness my banana went through (oh, and I asked if I could ensure it, but he said no, in case anyone was curious).

A few days later my friend shared this with me: