Whitney Houston & My Twin

Don’t make me close one more door, I don’t want to hurt anymore. Whitney’s soulful, sultry voice sums up my life right now. Longing for my twin is something that doesn’t come often in my life, because of past history. Her behavior and actions have always made it easier to write her off and reason with myself that her messiness, erratic behavior and selfishness is enough for me to not be involved. I remember when she was pregnant with Macy, oh I used to irk her soul rubbing her tummy and talking to the little baby growing inside of her. I used to irk her very being, being overly concerned and asking her a million questions about how she was caring for herself. I’ve always fussed at Natalie, telling her what she should be doing, what she shouldn’t tolerate from her past relationships, what she should do with her friends. I’ve somehow placed myself above her and told myself I always knew better than her. But there was a time I looked up to Natalie. I placed her on a pedestal and could never quite stop adoring her. Now, if I’m being honest, I am deeply saddened by her placement, not in my eyes, but in the world. I still think I know what’s best for her, and still want to give her strict instructions and a plan to watch her execute in order to rise back up. This whole thing is so complex and has so many layers. Do I still adore her ? Can I adore her knowing what I know. Secretly I am ashamed of my sister. I am embarrassed by her awkwardness around other people, her misplaced comments in conversation, her apparent nervousness and the fear I can see her moving in. I am mad at my dad, at the foster care system, at every man who beat her and left her with black eyes, and bruises. I am mad at the men who didn’t love her the way she needed to get better. I am mad at her “husband” for forsaking the sacred vows, the act of marriage truly is. I am mad at life for putting this heavy ass burden on me to take care of a woman who is broken. And I am mad at her for not letting me. and not letting me do it my way. I wrestle with my wishes for her in my mind. Every time she tries to kill herself I wonder what life would be like without her, and I realize Natalie has only been in my life in spurts, so my life wouldn’t change much. I am so sick of knowing people and then not knowing them. I am trying to build and maintain relationships, but I cant seem to catch the grasp and keep it. Don’t make me close one more door, I don’t want to hurt anymore……. I imagine if she ever really did kill herself I would live with guilt so heavy I don’t know how I would function. I imagine I would live with anger so deep in my spirit I might actually try to fight a few of them that ran through my sister and didn’t treat her right. I pray she doesn’t go out like that. I pray she doesn’t die before she lives out her promises. I am mad at her for not fighting back. It feels like she just let life take her away like the waves crashing onto the beach. It feels like she just laid on the beach and saw the waves coming but wasn’t sure what to do so she just laid there and let the salty seamless water wash her into the big ass ocean. I’ve sent the lifeguard and threw the floatie to her. I’ve gotten on the rescue boat with the trained professionals and jumped in the water after they told me not to. I’ve snatched her up and wrestled with her adrenaline and fear in the water trying to get her to calm down enough for me to save her life. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought sooner. I should’ve knocked her ass out and carried her body and its weight back to the boat and turned her over to the professionals to give her mouth to mouth and give her the proper care she needed to survive. When I think of the analogy of her laying on the beach and being swept away by the ocean, I wonder how her body was light enough to be carried away. The way the weight of the world has weighed her down, there is no way she was easy to wash away. I used to say people just don’t understand. People have no clue. They would never know what we went through. and then I wrote a book. Then I had this bright idea that somehow my story could impact the lives of others in a meaningful way. I wanted to write the story to get it out, to redeem myself within myself. To write it all out so I could understand it, so I could work through it, because I wanted to heal from it all. Now that its done I realize I wanted to put it all in one place and lay it down so I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore in my brain. I keep trying to figure out how I feel and I cant quite place these feelings in the places that they go. Perhaps a sign to lay it all down at God’s feet. And I find myself in a place where I always find myself with Natalie, it is what it is. Scared I may one day lose my mind like her, because of the trauma and the disappointment of life. Because sometimes the darkness takes hold and I cant fight back, it makes me scared to see her hurting so badly and so deeply, because I’ve learned from my own broken noses and bruises that that shit leaks out onto other people. And the physical act of growing children in your body and how their umbilical cord is connected to our bodies for nutrients and life should show us all that the first people effected by our pain, our joy, our pressure is the babies. I wonder what placement I hold in her life. What pedestal am I on? Or does she see me laying at her feet wishing more for her, that me telling her what to do and trying to fix whatever it is when she calls me is me begging her to love me back, to take accountability and take care of herself and my nieces and be there for me and my children. I am so disgusted with my dad. With all of them. But then that’s me trying to find someone to place blame on. I find myself in a state of fog, cant quite see what’s ahead, cant really see what’s behind me and forced to turn on my bright lights to see anything that defines the yellow lines on the road ahead. This is my twin sister, the one I shared the womb with and it doesn’t seem to matter to her or anyone else but me. So then I push it all out of my head, accept that it will never be a sisterhood. I will never experience the closeness I long for. I will never be the favorite TT to my nieces. At least not now. I guess I have to watch God do his work. I pray he forgives me for not taking all three of the girls and never looking back because I couldn’t. I pray he forgives me for choosing myself, my kids and my future. I pray the girls find their way back to me, and realize I never meant for them to have that life. Am I being honest with myself about all of this. Am I processing this normal or whatever is normal. As I get older it gets harder and harder to take these losses and pick up the pieces and keep moving. The mystery of life intrigues me but I cant keep taking these Ls. And the Ls I am taking all concern my heart, my feelings and it scares me. Natalie puts me face to face with my past, with our past, and makes me feel foolish for ever thinking I made it far, it makes me question my sanity and am I crazy for how I live now. Should I also fall apart and lose my mind. Because it was so tragic and disgusting or am I right for thugging this shit out ? I wanted to write a beautiful piece about my love for my sister and how my heart wants to love hers. I wanted to write a piece about how I know she will be ok. I wanted to write to help me to process. I wanted to share with the world a love letter to my sister because after all, that’s all we need right ? LOVE. But that wouldn’t be the truth, because everything above is my truth. I am mad at my twin, I am disappointed in her and her choices, I don’t think I should have to continue to pay the prices for her debts and decisions. And I know in the midst of it all God’s promises are as true for her life as they are mine, and will wait, waiting angry, sad, or impatiently sometimes, but, nonetheless, I will wait on her healing and hope LOVE wins in the end.