If I Had a Sister

If I had a sister, I would have called her on the phone today. I would have asked her if she had a minute, and in between the pitched broken parts of my 'do you have a minute', she would interrupt and sincerely inquire “what's wrong”. Then the rains would fall.

She would earnestly listen to the last hours events as I unfolded them piece by piece through frustrated lips. How I despise being judged as dumb, or uneducated, or as just a woman and another failing mother to her children. I would tell her how I inexplicably loathe that my reaction to that judgment is exactly how the judge has prejudged me to be. A cowering, unsure, silent, numb-faced female looking up at the all knowing through my eyelashes. When in reality, my vocal cords are shaking from forcing back my words that so badly want to defend. And that as I hurried to pick up all the kids to escape the moment, my throat was constricting and my eyes became clouded over till I felt safe to let the rains pour down.

Then my bipartisan self, my logical what-was-my part-in-this self would quickly question. Question my insecurities. Question how I tick. Question why I do the things I do. What I could have done differently, better. How I should have handled the situation. Should I have been more assertive? I would remind my self and my sister how I know I'm so much better then that person made me feel I was. That I know differently because I AM ME for heavens sake, this is MY life! I have the power to decide how I should feel. Sister would enthusiastically agree while adding insightful criticism on the situation. Criticism that I had already considered myself. Some how with her saying it, I would understand it more fully.

“Why must I coil this way? Do you react the same way?”, I would ask my sister. After all, we would be the product of the same environment and gene pool. “I'm a strong person, people don't usually offend me, I roll things of my shoulder, but this... this affects me... do you share my same reaction from the Chauvinistic Man Syndrome”? Then we would discuss the Chauvinistic Man Syndrome and have a few laughs in between my serious take on how those types of men have influenced me.

My sister would see my point and then ask “but today, wasn't it a woman”?

“Yes, yes it was”, I would reply.

“But the principles the same”, she'd say.

“Yes”, I would say feeling understood, “my reaction is the same”.

Reality is, I don't have a sister, so I can't call her on the phone today. She will not be my cheerleader, my water boy, or my coach. I have to manage a few lines on a screen and sort the situation out myself. But if I did have a sister, I think she'd remind me about the one avenue I do have. Prayer. Often I forget it in my daily haste to try and figure things out myself.