I Covet No More

The Daily Prompt today is:  We all get jealous from time to time — what wakes the green-eyed monster for you?

covet:

to desire (what belongs to another) inordinately or culpably

I love words.  I love to say words, type words, read words, and I especially like to spell words.  When I read the daily prompt, it refers to jealousy.  I immediately broke that down to covet.  One of my favorite words.  Coveting leads to jealousy, coveting could really be called jealousy.  

If we think of the phrase “what belongs” in the above definition, and made “what” into something that could be material or immaterial, it clearly leads that there can be no jealousy without coveting.  At least that’s how I see it, and how I’ll use the words for the remainder of the post.

I’m not an especially jealous person.  I don’t really care when DSB flirts with the nurses at wound care clinic, I don’t find myself checking out other people’s expensive belongings with a little green in my eyes, and I don’t GENERALLY envy other people their material possessions (or, immaterial things, like grace, charm, social status, looks, body type, what have you).  I don’t even envy or covet other people’s good mental health.

I’ve brought this up before, and I’ll bring it up again.  What I have coveted for so long, what has made me so jealous is young (and older) people getting married and having babies.  I have so badly wanted those things.  In keeping with the post, I would say I have  COVETED those things.

For someone who cannot have those things, this makes the coveting of such all the more painful.  I see it.  I want it.  I know I can’t ever have it.  I still want it but it will never happen.  Really and truly, under no circumstances can it happen.  It just wasn’t meant to be.

Telling yourself, as you’re holding a newborn baby or sitting at a wedding, that you can’t have these things, destroys a part of you.  That jealousy and envy and coveting eats you alive, when you’re right there in the thick of it.  I used to spend hours and hours crying as I looked at Facebook of pictures of babies and of my friends’ weddings.

I had several bad moments when my sister was pregnant, that I was just so outrageously jealous, I couldn’t stand myself.  I would have killed to be in her shoes, to be doing what she was doing.  It tore me to pieces.  My sister having a baby solidified things for me:  I would never be doing that.

I’ve come a long way since then, and what I would say now is that I don’t covet having a baby, per-say.  I covet TIME with my nephew.  I covet daily photos and videos and chats with my sister.  I am fulfilling my now (mostly) silenced desire to have my own child, by living vicariously through my sister.  I am Auntie Rose and I have never been more proud or awestruck as when I am in that little guy’s presence.

As for the other part.  The marriage part.  I think it might not be all its cracked up to be.  I can’t marry DSB, and don’t think I would even if I could.  If I were to find another guy and he wanted to get married, I don’t know if I would want to (or if I even could).  It’s complicated, but at the same time it’s not.

Am I jealous of love?  Like the real love I see between my parents, or the real love I see between my dad and his wife?  I wouldn’t say jealousy is the right word.  And I know I don’t covet it.  It might be nice someday, but I don’t know that those kind of loves come around for everyone.

And so there is no more jealousy, no more coveting about marriage and having babies.  I’ll be Auntie Rose, but I sure won’t be having any babies, and I think I’ve come to a place where I’m finally good with that.  Maybe my sister will have a few more and I can move in next door and play “the fun babysitter.”  😀

Embracing Aunt-hood

There has been so much happiness in my realm lately.  Of greatest note is the birth of my nephew.  I have visited him twice and, while I may be biased, he is perfect.  I hold him and am mesmerized by the way his little face scrunches up this way and that, reminding me of his very-animated father.  He lies peaceful and serene, reminding me that there CAN be such peace and serenity, and that one does not necessarily have to be an infant to know it.

At my insistent request, my sister is sending me a couple of picture messages of him to my cell every day.  I am probably not the only one making this insistent request, and part of me feels a bit guilty for doing so, but this baby is a game-changer and I really just want to soak up as much of him as I can.

I am absolutely sure that my sister and her husband are soaking up as much of that love as they can, too.  My sister was fortunate enough to be able to take 12 weeks off from her job, and my brother-in-law runs his own business, which, although he is still quite busy, allows him to spend more time with him than if he were in a traditional 9-5.  I’ve wished many times that I lived closer to my sister.  I yearn to be closer and even now more so that my nephew has been born.

I am sure that if I lived closer, I would be knocking on her door every day, bugging the crap out of her, so it’s probably best that we don’t.  It’s funny, because I spent years and years.  Pretty much from 2005 — 2010 feeling like I was the last person on the face of the Earth that she would want to spend time with.  You know, having a sister who has (had) a very active mental illness was a lot to handle.  So I get it.  Really, sis, I get it.

And then things started happening and I started getting better.  The mania went away and the depression simmered down and I could actually hold a conversation.  With my sister.  Pure gold, pure love.  I felt like I was being given a second chance, and I didn’t even question my sister giving me another chance.  I was just too grateful.  For us to be close again, like we were long ago, would be all I would ever need from her.

And she started seeking ME out and sending me thoughtful text messages when she didn’t have time to call.  And then she started making time to call.  And I thought I must be the luckiest person on this planet to have a sister that cared like she did.  And I was so incredibly grateful that I forgot those nearly five years when we barely interacted, and realized, for the most part, that those five years where I was mostly apart from my sister, were my fault.

It wasn’t my sister who didn’t want me around.  It was me making myself completely unavailable for any of the things in her life.  She knew I wasn’t much for socializing, so she didn’t invite me to parties or get-togethers where there would be a lot of people.  But she wanted to, I found out later.  She did a lot of that, “protecting” me from all of the things that scared me.  She thought she was doing something good, and really, she probably was because a lot of the time I was a complete wreck and would have ruined any decent party.

But she wasn’t not inviting me places because I had a mental illness.  She was not inviting me places because she didn’t think I would have fun, because she knew I wouldn’t fit in.  Looking back on it, in that light, I don’t feel angry about those five years that I lost her.

I look back and I think of her asking me to be the maid-of-honor at her wedding, so surprised that she picked me out of all of her friends.  I look back to that wedding and remember the great time I had, and the great speech I made.  Of how close I felt to my sister, and even to her husband.

I look back just a little over a week ago, with my sister sending a text message telling me that I can come see my nephew in the hospital whenever I want, that I got priority because I was “Auntie Rose.”

I feel like I am a part of her life, and I am so very grateful.  I’m happy that we could get to this point and I look forward to all of the wonder and joy I am going to experience with her new little family.  No matter what, I vow to always be there for that little boy, my nephew.  No matter if I get really sick again, I will still be Auntie Rose.