Anyone who may recall what I was
like when the then 10 yr old sniveling brat entered my life will tell you I WAS
NOT HAPPY! Now, from a rational point of
view what the hell at 23 did it really matter that I was gaining a step sibling?
Honestly, not a damn thing. That didn’t stop me at times letting my mother know
that I was on to her. I just KNEW she loved him more than me. What is worse is
that I actually felt at times that she loved him more than me; her OWN
daughter. *shudder* I have a flair for the dramatics there is no doubt about
it.
Looking
back it is easy to see what a fucking nightmare I must have been to deal with.
Of course he knows none of this, and instead only knows the good that came from
him coming into my life. Not even today does
he know what he did for me at that point in my life, how in some ways he saved
me from myself. My family knows, his family knows, and I hope there never comes
a point where he will need to know, but writing about it might put into
perspective exactly how important that he is to me and my sanity.
When
BMOC and I started building a relationship I never expected him to be as cool
as he was. He was so much like me, except a boy of course. He played sports,
watched sports, loved to get dirty. Everything I was at his age, and on a 10
year old level we had a connection. The thing that I got to bring to the table
was support. I was at every game I could be, and made time in the middle of the
week, or weekends to pick him up and go do silly things. Movies, lunch,
anything that got him out of the house and got us alone with one another. At
times he had to be reminded that at the end of the day I was not his friend so
to speak, and yes I was a grown up no matter how often I didn’t show it. There
were times when that lesson was harder to teach, but there was no denying that
I lived for being a part of his life. Literally.
To
say that BMOC saved me is an understatement. At the time we were building our
relationship, my own personal relationship was going to hell. My ex who would
be my ex more than once in my life had already began his long battle of beating
me down to the point that I beat myself down without prompting. When I was at
home I was only a shell of myself, and very rarely had a positive spin on life
as a whole. I was doing nothing more than walking through the motions. It was
at this time I very seriously thought about walking away from it all if you
will. I’ll never forget making the call to my mother and laying it out and how
fast her and my step father came running. The packed me up, what few belongings
I had and took me home. I was back in counseling the next day, and every night
my step father would come and check on me. Something I did not know until over
a year later, how he looked over me to make sure that I was ok. In the end
however it wasn’t being brought home that made the thoughts stop, it wasn’t the
love of my mother or my step father that made me feel better about my life. At
the end of the day it was something that BMOC’s uncle said to me that put
things into perspective.
“I
don’t know what we would have told BMOC about you, had you done something to
truly hurt yourself.” “He loves you, and talks about you non-stop and all the
time that you guys spend together.” “There is no way at 10 he would be able to
process what you would have decided to do, and instead we would have lied to
him about your whereabouts.” “Next time you feel that low, if it’s not your
mother or father or even you step-father that makes you stop to think; think
about him.”
Those
words are exactly what I needed to hear, at exactly the time I needed to hear
them. No matter how selfish I could be, and with what little regard to my
family. When it came to BMOC I couldn’t hurt him in that way. Probably because
no matter if he understood it yet, or if he will ever understand it I knew
where he was in his life, and I was living proof of where he could end up
without the support of loved ones. I had to make sure that I remained part of
that support.
All
of that is what drives me to our relationship as it is today. I can’t even
begin to describe how proud I am of him. Last year he was successful as a
freshman with sports, girls, etc but this year as he starts his sophomore year
he is leaps and bounds ahead. Not only will he be playing Varsity Football,
which come on FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS people! He is also holding down a 3.6 GPA,
has remained grounded as much as I would expect anyone at his age to be, and at
his level of accomplishment, but he has also become grateful for what he has,
and what he is given.
This
weekend as I took part of my Sunday to run him to the mall for school clothes
shopping he wasn’t the whiney I want kid that I had dealt with before. Instead
he was the grown up, this is what I need, how much I have to spend, and thank
you kid that he’s grown into. He was grateful for the stuff that I personally
bought him, something I would not have done had he thrown a fit over some label
this or that, but he was also reasonable in his requests. He is becoming a man,
and it’s easy to see that but at the same time it’s funny to still see the
little boy in him.
The
other thing that amazes me is how much our personal relationship has grown. He
tells me things; things I know he would never tell someone he didn’t trust. It
feels like an “us” against them kind of thing. The them being our parents of
course, and I have held that confidence on more than one occasion. My theory
is, if he’s not hurting someone, or himself then I am not going to pull the
grown up judgmental card, and instead trust he’s smart enough to make the right
choices. The choices that I know he is
capable of making because regardless if he’s on varsity this or that, or girl a
or b likes him; he is a kind, smart, funny, and lovable person. He is a leader,
and therefore someone others look up to, someone that at times even I look up
to.
