Walking contradictions

My brother’s wife once told me she was surprised that I still talk to my brothers. The comment came after a Thanksgiving dinner years ago when we were all reminiscing about all the horrible things they did to me growing up. The sad part is she didn’t hear the worst of it. But she is an only child-she wouldn’t understand the special bond I share with my brothers. True, they once locked me in a Rubbermaid storage container, convinced me I was adopted, and made me eat a roly-poly…twice. But they also beat up their best friend when he made me cry, and accompanied me downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night when I was too scared to go alone.

My brothers are my closest friends and I have learned a lot from them. I learned how to properly throw and catch a ball and I can make a killer fort from sheets and pillows. But they also taught me to be self-reliant, determined and resilient. I had to hold my own with my brothers and I am strong woman because of them. So I guess it makes sense that I get along better with guys than girls. Girls can be mean and caddy, and I really don’t have time for that.

I have high expectations for myself and I am scared I won’t satisfy them. I still look to my parents for approval and I am wondering if I will ever stop. Sometimes I do things not because I want to but because I know it will make me look good in other people’s eyes.

I’ve learned that life isn’t as black and white as some people make it out to be and sometimes I feel like a walking contradiction. I act tough but little things make me blubber like a baby. I walked around for two weeks with fractured leg without knowing it, but I have yet to sit through a Baptism without crying. I can be both the tough girl and an emotional wreck. There were days growing up I would switch out of a sweaty sports bra from soccer practice to slip into a delicate pink leotard. I can stop a soccer ball from going into the goal, and I can also do a back flip on four inches of plastic five feet from the ground while keeping my toes perfectly pointed. I can be a jock and graceful gymnast. I can be a hard-nosed reporter but still have compassion.

I have odd insecurities. I think my arms are too hairy and that my collar and hips bones are too pointy. I am afraid of mascots, and at the age of 18 I cried at Disney World when Pluto tried to get me to take a picture with him. Happiest place on Earth my foot.

My world came to a halt this summer when my dad had a heart attack. What was he doing having a heart attack? This was my father, and I am his little girl. I spent hours on my bathroom floor sick with nerves. In the end everything was ok, but it was still one of the most painful times in my life. I will never forget making the calls to my brothers, who are scattered around the country to tell them about our dad. I’ve learned you can’t control life, no matter how hard you try. At one point your family becomes the “it only happens to other families” family.

I’m getting married this year. Yes, I will be 22 years old, and yes, I know I am young. But I also know it will be the best decision I’ve ever made. I am tired of strangers and sometimes friends looking doubtful when they hear my news. You don’t know me. I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend and I can’t wait.