Chapter Two

Guilt and Resentment

            It was Christmas morning, only the second that I’d ever spent with my father, and as I sat in front of the beautifully decorated tree I felt something other than anticipation. Christmas meant presents and food and singing and all of my favorite things, so why was I feeling so . . . strange? It was then that I realized that I was sitting alone in front of the tree. My brows furrowed, ‘Doesn’t he want to watch me?’ My mother always watched me open my presents, eagerly clicking away on her camera, intent to capture every moment, every expression. The last time I’d spent Christmas with my father and step-mother they did the same. ‘So what’s different now?’ I’d thought to myself. I went upstairs to see what was keeping them to find them in my sister, Lyndsie’s room. When I put two and two together I came to the conclusion that if Lyndsie had not been born, then I would not have had to sit alone in front of the Christmas tree for hours. So with a glare in the baby’s direction, I marched back down the stairs to rip the wrapping paper off of my presents. Alone.

I selfishly resented my sister for having my father from the beginning of her life, when I had not even had the option. In this I learned the vicious nature of resentment. However, I did not realize it right away, and when I did it hit me like a wrecking ball. 

I was walking on the boardwalk with my mother and her friend Beth when we came up to a sign that read: 'Palm Reading'. I had not been overly convinced but I figured that it would be interesting none-the-less. The woman began the session by telling me things that have happened in my past - things that she could not have guessed. She knew about my father's absence. She knew about my burning fear of being rejected by my family. She knew that I had a half-sister and she knew that I did not approve of my mother's long-term boyfriend. Because of this, I developed a trust in her ability and started asking her questions about my future. "Will my mother ever leave him?" I asked, and she shook her head in pity. "What will I do for a living?" I asked, to which she responded that, whatever field I worked in, I would be doing a lot of traveling. Then, as I sat and wondered what to ask next, something hit me. Something so shocking and true and heartbreaking that a sob ripped from my throat, and my hand instantly slapped over my face as I tried to hide from the woman before me. I wanted to run - run from how I was feeling, from the woman who pulled this question from my mind - but I had to ask. I had to know. "Will I ever get over the resentment I feel for my sister?"

I realized that I not only resented and envied, but held my little sister responsible for the fact that she had him from the beginning of her life and I did not. It took me a long time to overcome the guilt I felt for feeling that way. How could I hold an innocent child accountable for a man’s mistakes? How could I not love someone who loved me with everything in them? It was in my guilt that I learned the ugliness envy, and how it blinds you, and the stunning power of guilt.