The Wall, And Other Lovely Defense Mechanisms

My sister ran away at sixteen. I had been so excited for her to live with us and was beaming from the inside out watching her move her things into her new room. She was ten years older than me, and perfection in my eyes. She was beautiful. She had wit. She read interesting books. She listened to the coolest music. She had popular friends. Everything for her seemed so effortless.

At six years old I wanted to be just like her, following her everywhere, mimicking her. She taught me how to write my name. She taught me karate moves. She taught me how to make wishes on eyelashes. She had always wanted a sister. That's why I didn't understand waking up one morning and finding she was not in her room. She had run away back to her mother's house, sneaking away in the night without a goodbye. I could only imagine how miserable she was living with my dad, but I didn't understand it at the time. I wanted to know what I did wrong. I wanted to know why we couldn't be a family.

A year later we had scarcely seen each other, and I asked that burning question as we walked around the pond at the park. "Don't you want to be real sisters?" Her green eyes cast down to the ground as she diverted the question with, "We are real sisters." She knew what I meant. Even at seven years-old, I was tired of the bullshit and lies. Her silence pushed me forward. "Why did you run away?" Her eyes met mine, a window to pain and sadness as she concealed her grief with a smile.

That day marked the end of an era for me. I could never love someone that much again. I couldn't let anyone in that didn't need me just as much as I needed them. I've lied to myself about that many times, but somehow just saying you don't need anyone makes you feel better. She had left me to pick up the pieces of my household, of my father's broken heart.

These patterns would follow for years to come. I fell in love with beautifully broken people that opened their hearts to me. As soon as they got too close, or I felt my fragile trust breaking, I'd fall off the face of the earth never to be seen again.

Seventeen years later, I'm sitting in meditation, being told to confront this wall I've put up against the world. The wall that keeps me from feeling. The wall that keeps me from knowing and giving love. I had remembered each little brick that was mounted along the way, but had never dared to venture back to the beginning. Suddenly the meaning, and the origin, all made sense.

That's when I realized that I was just as guilty.

Everything she'd done, I'd done seven times over. I would shut people out. I would make excuses. I would plan a grand escape. This wall and I have comfortable history. The only thing chipping it away is the fear that I will be just like her.

Photo credit Octavian Rosca