by Michele Connell

Created on: July 27, 2008

Learning to Let Go

Family can be wonderful, and at the same time excruciatingly painful!

The oldest of three girls, I took on the role of mother-hen to my youngest sister. Fifteen years separated us physically, but we adored one another from day one. She was my sunshine, and even after I married she spent more time at my house than home. In those days I never imagined that life would ever be any different. Oh, how wrong I was!

Teenage years hit like a ton of bricks - dating and boys, headaches and heartaches (not to mention heartburn and extreme stress). I relished the days when she would bounce in the room and say, "I love you, Sister! You're my best friend." The cruel hands of time have a way of stealing those precious moments by injecting the "serum" called hormones. I'm not sure how it happens, but one day the sweet little angel becomes a torrent of ranting and raving emotions, and somewhere in the middle you're left wondering...'Who is this new person?'

Suddenly good wisdom is shunned for worldly avenues, bad relationships that seem to get worse with each new guy, and now a baby on the way. It's extremely hard to watch a loved one go through suffering in emotionally abusive relationships, but no matter how hard I fought to drill common sense, spiritual awakening, and eye opening arguments into her head I met with total resistance. It seemed the harder I tried, the more conflicts arose. The more conflicts arose, the more we fought, and the more we fought, the less we loved. I had no intention of fleeing from the problems. Where I'm concerned flight is irrelevant when it comes to family. Regardless of what takes place; they are still your family.

Which brings us to the current topic - fight or flight. Either of these choices pretty much puts a person between a rock and a hard place.

I will say; however, my relationship with my sister greatly suffered because of my fighting stance. The wedge became deeply embedded, and the wounds of harsh words and angry outbursts ran deep and wide because of my decisions to fight. What amazes me the most is the fact that I always hated conflict, and I actually pictured myself as a neutral, level-headed person. Frustration and disappointment have a way of changing all that in a moment. Anger and wounded spirits leave deep, festering sores that continue to bleed with each poke and prod - drawing out the worst in a person already geared up for the fight. None of these reasons are justified when it comes down to dealing with conflict

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