Sistah-cuz and I-dont-want-to-talk-itis

The other day my neighbor had fallen ill and asked me if I could take her to the hospital (she’s fine, just a little stomach virus) and so during that 6 hour process, I squeezed an hour and change out to talk to good ole sis-cuz.  What is a sis-cuz you ask?  Well, I’ll get into that in a minute.  First, the conversation.

This conversation was significant because after pouring a quarter of my soul out to her, I ended my thoughts with “I have to write about all this stuff.  I just need to figure out what's appropriate for the blog.”  Her response was “Yeah, I noticed that lately your writing has seemed less intimate.”  That line stuck with me.  I knew it was true.  I’ve been juggling so much lately that the blog has been suffering.  Sure, I added recipes and even a cool video, but the stories have taken a back seat.  So, let’s get back to story time…

Where do I start?  OH ok, first let me explain the sister-cousin thing.  Sister-cousin, sis-cuz or sistah-cuz is my second cousin, which means she’s actually my mom’s first cousin.  She’s older than me and has sub sequentially been around since before I was born.  When my mom was pregnant with me, and Danny (big bro) was only about 5 years old, sistah-cuz (who is also super private hence why I’m not using her name nor pic) would hang out with my mom and sleep over whenever my dad was working (he’s a firefighter and they often have overnight shifts).  Eventually, I was born and she continued to be a staple in our household. 

Don't sweat me...

Sistah-cuz has always been like a big sister to me.  When I got my first boom box (Yes, I said boom box!  It was pink and grey and it was so cool!!  I just wanted to have it strapped to my shoulder all the time!), she gave me my first Whitney Houston tape (Yeah, I said Whitney and what?).  It was a homemade tape and had like every song Whitney ever made!  I would lock myself in my room for hours singing, dancing and acting.  Most of the time, I ended up acting out the same scene over and over again: 

I’m a great singer with a voice just like Whitney’s. 

Principal Taylor (played by me) would introduce me to an auditorium full of my school mates “…and now presenting Michelle Gonzalez…” 

I would come out, hand my microphone (brush) to myself (I am playing two people after all) and say in my most elegant voice “Thank you Principal Taylor.”

I’d then turn to the audience and say “It is such a pleasure to be with you tonight.  For my first song, I’d like to perform ‘I Believe The Children Are The Future’ because I truly believe the children are the future.” 

Then, I’d press play on my boom box and go to town!  At the top of my lungs, without a care in the world I would belt out my song as if I was Whitney at the Super Bowl.  I always made sure to stand in front of the mirror though.  I was convinced that the key to singing like Whitney was to get your mouth open wide like hers, while having your teeth show like hers, and having your tongue vibrate like hers.  If I could emulate that, I knew I could sound just like her.

I would then end my song and pause for the rousing applause that was sure to follow (performed by me as well).  My heart would swell with appreciation for all my adoring fans and I would bow with dramatic grace.  If I really had time on my hands, the crowd (me again) would demand an encore.  Principal Taylor (yep, me) would beg me to come out and suddenly there I was again, performing another great number.

I was often brought back to reality when Ma or Pa would knock on the door and either inform me it was dinner time, remind me I had homework to do, or simply say “Misha, I think you should chill out for a bit.”  I can imagine that what they heard was their little girl screaming Whitney Houston lyrics at the top of her lungs in her bedroom (there’s only so much of that one can take).  Although, I always dreamed that one day they’d come in and say “Where did you get that voice Misha?!”  They never did. 

Ok, I strayed way away from the point…sistah-cuz…we support each other, we argue with each other, but above all, we love each other.  She is, in short, my big sister, always there just when I need her (sometimes even when I don’t even know that I need her)…we just happen to have a different set of parents.

On to the next…I miss my family and friends.  That’s expected, I know.  But, what wasn’t expected was the feeling of unimportance.  Sistah-cuz e-mails me, at minimum, three times a day.  Bless her heart.  Sometimes she e-mails me so much I just let them come in and then respond to all of them back to back in one sitting.  Sistah-cuz has always been like this and in truth, there were times in the past that it would really annoy me.  It’s amazing how being thousands of miles away can change all of that.  She and my boyfriend are the only two people I speak to on a daily basis.

There have been, at most, a handful of friends who have truly reached out to see how I’m doing out here.  Am I angry? No.  Am I sad? A little.  Am I surprised? Not really.  I know that life goes on.  I made a decision to leave and I wasn’t exactly Queen of The Party Planning Committee before I left.  Through the years, I had systematically pushed my friends away.  I can now look back and realize that.  I can also recognize that it was a result of my own unhappiness. 

See, I was always happy-go-lucky-life-of-the-party Mish.  As the years went on, it somehow went from genuine to a front.  A front that I needed to keep up because I felt it was expected.  No one wants me if I’m not fun, I thought.   Then, it started to became harder and harder to put on that face, to feel like I could be that happy Mish again (especially not without the presence of several glasses of wine or other adult beverages in my system).  As the years continued to pass, even the drinks didn’t help.  So, I stopped showing up.  When I did show up, only half of me was really there.  I didn’t know how to just be anymore and so what it took to maintain a REAL genuine friendship, I no longer had.  It wasn’t until I was truly sick and tired of being that way, until I was ready to face myself and come to realize that the source of my happiness never rested in a bottle, or a food, or a person…could I truly change.  I was missing God in my life.  Pointblank period.  I finally allow Him to take control and show me the errors in my ways, to bring me back to the path of true love and joy.  Loving people even when they have been deemed unlovable.  Through this journey, I am returning to me, and hopefully, in time, returning to genuine friendship.

Now, we're in the age of text, Facebook and blogs.  It’s becoming a lot easier to have these surface relationships that just seem deep.  You can be in contact with someone without truly being connected to them.  Post a good morning on someone’s Facebook page and we truly feel like we’ve reached out.  “Oh yeah, I spoke to them today, they’re doing well.”  No, you text them.  They text back they’re ok but could have been smack in the middle of a meltdown and you would be none the wiser!  The cultivation of relationships is taking on a whole new meaning here.  A phone call is like the hardest thing for this new generation to accomplish, and it’s catching on like a disease.  I-don’t-want-to-talk-itis. 

I feel it even when I talk to my family, its like we’re all “too busy” to just talk.  At times, I too am a victim of the disease.  I’m hoping that by writing about it, it serves as a reminder that every now and then we must stop.  Dedicate time to catch up and really check in with those you care for.  Stop and make that call, even if it’s to say something as simple as this…