sisters and privacy

Grrrr . . .

growing up with three sisters you have to learn to share. It’s not even a matter of learning, it’s a matter of survival. You share or you get your hair pulled. We had to share everything’rooms, clothes, food, toys, money and the back of the cereal box.

yes, as you know I have three younger sisters. For clarity and ease of understanding I have numbered them here in this blog. Sisters #2-#4, you’ve seen them here. They are real women with real names. . but it adds to the comedy a bit to number them and sometimes it’s just oh-so fitting.

having three sisters is not always easy. There is that whole sharing thing and then there are the people who don’t really get it. When there are four of you and you are all girls you are seen as some sort of matched set. Yes, four darling girls. We are close and I wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world. I’ve got three built-in best friends. But it’s not always easy. In fact, sometimes it’s damn hard being one of four.

early on you are pegged as that matching set. Still, whenever we go to a family function we are seen as a set. If one of use can’t attend people ask, ‘aren’t you missing one?’ ‘where is the other one?’ yes, you become the other one.

the one. We all have problems with being the one. The smart one wants to be the cute one. The popular one wants to be the rebellious one. We all just want to be the other one sometimes. And sometimes you just want to be THE one. The only one.

it’s frustrating.

it’s hard to believe you have a unique identity when you have three other women running around who are so very similar to you. Same background, same interests, some even say we look alike. Asserting your individuality is difficult; I cannot imagine what identical twins and triplets go through. So, we’ve established that it’s not only hard to have anything that’s your own, but it’s sometimes hard to just be yourself. It always comes back to sharing.

but here, here on the internet, I wasn’t sister #1, the smart one. I was jodi, gem, the voice behind I loved it. I ate it up. I love having this one thing that’s my own, that I have all to myself. I relish writing here at iwilldare. I loved having this little secret. It was mine and I didn’t have to answer to anyone or deal with nosy queries from my family. I was free. But I ruined all that and I am angry.

it’s my fault, I know that. I was lazy and dumb. I had to design a brochure for an upcoming tournament. My parent’s didn’t have an e-mail addy so I threw on there. Yes, it was dumb. I know that. But I was rushed and busy. I didn’t really think anyone would catch on. I didn’t think anyone would do any investigating. I am na’ve sometimes. I was wrong.

I got this e-mail from sister #2 tonight:
Everybody at the bowling alley thought your web site was for
the bowling alley and were saying it was really weird and
that it was full of letters by you. Just warning you…
just in case anyone says something.
ERICKA (aka Sister #2) HAHAHAHAHa

so now, my secret is out. I am so angry with myself. I loved having this secret. I loved having this time and this space for myself. . . to be totally myself without the prying, ever-watchful eyes of my family. But I blew it. I don’t think I will be as uninhibited or free with my words. That makes me sad. I am not comfortable with this. It makes me angry that now I will have to share this aspect of my life with them. I wanted it to be all my own and now it’s going to their’s too. What was I thinking?

the fall-out has already begun. Sister #2 is digging through the archives and telling me what I have said. Warning me about some of the stuff I have written. Sister #4 called because she thought it was all a big mistake. I think I will just go cry.

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