a tale of two girls ...

Once upon a time, a young couple was blessed with their second child, a little girl named Carrie. About six months later, in another suburb of Sacramento, their best friends were blessed with their first child, also a girl. Naturally, the two babies played together:

And as they grew older, they became best friends. They had the first can of soda together. Ate Nerds together. Played with their Cabbage Patch Kids. Escaped snakes. Survived being babysat by Tyler and Shaun. Put up with younger siblings. Shopped for tye-dye "leggos" with their dads. Roasted marshmellows. Made up cheerleading routines. Drank champagne with their moms when they turned 16. Watched their parents divorce and remarry. Graduated from college. Visited each other when their families moved from Sacramento. Celebrated new apartments. Met new boyfriends. Got attacked by crazies in line for the bathroom. Sang along with Van Morrison.

And then one day ... one of them met an amazing guy. She came over to her friend's house and showed her the guy's picture on the internet. She agreed he was cute. Then she met him, and liked him even more.

Soon after, the girl and the boy decided to get married. Everyone was excited - how could they not be? And the girl asked her friend to stand with her as she embarked on this new chapter of her life.

... and so it began, their next memory in the making.

hurt

In the past six months, I have received unkind emails from both my grandparents and an uncle - both of which declared they wanted nothing to do with me. I have had a sister stop speaking to me. And a mother who excluded me from a family celebration.

Growing up, I always thought your family loved you unconditionally. I thought they were the people you leaned on when you were done. Were happy with when you were sad. Not mine.

If someone asked me to describe my family today, I would tell them that my family has caused me more pain and saddness than anything else I've ever encountered. Unless I am who they want me to be, they want nothing to do with me.

I'm struggling. I'm struggling a lot. When the tears dry, I turn to the people who do love me. I have people who I call my "family," even though we don't share any of the same blood and while some may say we aren't related, these people love me and support me, in the good times and the bad.

It is these people who make me who I am today. I have bad moments, like I am having right now, but those people are there for me. I hope they know who they are, and I hope they know how much I love them.

My only hope is that someday I will be fortunate to have my own family and that no matter who they are, or what they do, I will love them just the same. I will hug my children and tell them that I love them. I will support my new siblings and be there for them.

I never want anyone I love to ever feel like this.