A few days ago I was laying on the ground in my room (as one does), staring up at the gray-paint ceiling, and a thought from 3 years earlier popped into my head. It was a conversation I had with a younger cousin about my sister. For whatever reason, my cousin Miles and I got on a sentimental side tangent and he had me recounting how much my older sister impacted me when we were kids.

I surprised myself by explaining how much my sister Ceilidh really meant to me and all the things that were left unsaid between us. The convo with Miles got deep, and I listed all the things I liked about my sister. I started reminiscing on some of the memories we had as kids. When we were young and naïve (the same as now), it felt like it was just us against the world at times. I realized that I had really looked up to her.

She was my older sister by a year. It felt like she always paved the path and showed me what to do. She helped with classes, school, clubs, and projects. She taught me Calculus. She cooked me banana bread. She helped me with problems in our family and even gave me advice to ask a girl to Prom.

Anything that I had questions about, she was there. It always felt like she had everything together while I was clinging on for dear life. I always felt lost, disorganized, and chaotic, like I was always riding a bull at the rodeo. (I guess not much has changed, ha!). She helped me with so much. She provided clarity and stability.

I never told her.

This conversation with my cousin was the first time I had even thought about it. He just kept pulling it out of me. A few minutes in, he asked me if I had told any of these thoughts to her.

“Well, no, but like…” I protested. He cut me off with the most sobering tone possible:

“If you didn’t tell her those things, how the fuck would she know?”

Silence. I thought about it for a moment. Then another.

30 silent seconds went by before anyone said anything, “Colin, are you still there?”

Damn.

He was right.

My sister had a thankless job. She just kept giving and never asked for anything in return.

I never really told her thanks. I never got her gifts. I never showed her just how goddamn much it meant to me. I didn’t know how. I had always wanted to, but couldn’t figure out how to do it justice. It was uncomfortable. Anything I could think of felt underwhelming after all the years, so I didn’t do anything.

The Great Divide

The only other time it had really crossed my mind, to really show her thanks, was senior year of High School when I was preparing to leave for college. I was excited. I was itching for adventure. I couldn’t wait to fly away from the nest. I was itching for something new.

I was set to leave in a month or so, and it had dawned on me that Ceilidh still had no idea about the impact she made in my life. So, true to my sarcastic and flippant nature, I brushed off our relationship and joked about how I’d never see her again. Yeah, not great.

I had no clue how to tell her.

It was infinitely easier to shy behind some humor. Express my true feelings and be vulnerable? Not today. No sir.

It’s starting to catch up to me though. She’s assumed I never really cared. She tells me I act like I don’t care about the people around me. She always throws out offhand remarks about how I’m just a lone wolf out on my own. Come to think of it, I believe the exact word she used was ’emotionless’. Yikes.

Fast forward 2 years to the conversation with my cousin.

He was right.

                                      If you don't tell people how you feel, they won't know

It hurt so bad. But it was the truth.

She Still Doesn’t Know

It’s now 3 years later and I still haven’t told her. My sister has no idea how I really feel about her. It hurts every time I think about it. The disconnect seems to spread wider and wider.

Just the idea of it makes me anxious and uncomfortable. I don’t know how to tell her what I feel. It’s going to take some time.

Being a fairly young male and being trained in a hyper-competitive environment with sports didn’t do too many favors in the vulnerability department either. For as long as I can remember I’ve been taught to just hold it all down and power through. That usually works.

Well, now it’s biting me in the ass.

What’s worse is that I’m off living in different states now and my sister and I don’t talk as much as before. I’m off on adventures and trying to make the most out of life. She thinks I just don’t care about anyone.

What Ceilidh doesn’t know is this thing eats me alive. I’ve got no idea how to express it to her. It feels like I’m in too deep and anything shy of a grandeur gesture doesn’t feel like it’ll suffice. Given my nature and current frame of mind, that doesn’t sound very probable, so I continue to brew in silence. Every few months or so I’m plagued by the idea that my sister thinks I’m a cold-hearted, thankless, piece of shit.

This summer she even told me that sometimes it feels like I don’t care about the family.

Holy shit.

Dude I’ve got to change my ways. It couldn’t be farther from the truth, but vulnerability and telling people how I’ve felt isn’t uhh… well let’s just say that’s not my strong suit, as with most people.

That’s part of the reason I write – In hopes that it catches just a fraction of what I’m feeling. It’s an outlet to express what I don’t have the courage to do face-to-face. It lets me be alone and shelter myself, while also spewing out the thoughts of my mind to the universe in hopes that in some circuitous route, it reaches the people I care about.

But I’m still lying to myself, because I know I wouldn’t publish those deepest most vulnerable thoughts. No sir, those stay locked away. One day I will work up the courage to, I don’t know, tell people that I care about them. But it’s a long slow process. It’s not going to happen overnight. But today is not that day.

Plant the Seed

At some point in the future, I will tell Ceilidh. My buddy’s method was just to get super drunk and tell us all he loved us. Maybe I’ll take a page from his book. Maybe I won’t. I’ll work up the courage eventually, but for now, it’s just baby steps.

Not everyone expresses their love through words. But it is our responsibility to figure out how we like to communicate with people and how we express love (5 love languages). We don’t have to use words, but we do have to express the love we feel one way or another. Understanding that there’s a disconnect in the first place is the first step in wrestling with the issue.

But this debacle with my sister really has opened my eyes that the conversation needs to happen. Otherwise, relationships can suffer.

If you care about people, tell them, because otherwise “how the fuck would they know?”

Note:
So Part 1 pretty much describes how I dug myself into a hole. Part 2 is about the light at the end of the tunnel and how I’m slooooowly digging myself out of it.