“Everything was about you,” my older sister said, standing on the front porch after a night of manipulation and arguments.

I stared at her, unable to speak. The person who I always had to adapt around, said ‘everything was about me.’ My older sister had always been the root of the conflict in my house. As she had break downs that caused me and my younger sister to be locked in my parents’ bedroom. SpongeBob blaring from the TV in order to cover up the argument between my sister and my parents on the other side of the door.

I had constantly made myself smaller to try to make up for my sister’s behavior. If I had a problem, I ignored it because my parents had too much to worry about. I pushed down my emotions. I made myself smaller. I felt comfortable being alone. I became self-sufficient. Taking care of my grades, my school work, my room, and my mental health. Being that solid rock for my parents, the kid that would be good and be quiet. I’ve continued this throughout my life.

I didn’t care when my accomplishments were neglected because my older sister was going through a lot. I didn’t care that I was struggling because my sister was doing worse than me. I didn’t care when anything that could’ve been about me for a second was overshadowed by my older sister’s struggles. I could allow all of this to consume me. I could let it make me selfish, but I didn’t.

My poor relationship with my older sister only encouraged me to build a stronger relationship with my younger sister. When my older sister would’ve taken a car ride with me as an opportunity to manipulate me, I take a car ride with my younger sister as a chance to show her my music taste. My sister would’ve rolled her eyes and told me to leave her alone if I asked to hangout with her friends, but I let my younger sister tag along. I let her hang out with my friends and me, getting food, going shopping, she’s there. When my younger sister shares secrets with me, I don’t save it to later tell my mom for brownie points; I listen and keep that secret. When my sister wants to complain about something between her and my mom, I let her do so. I listen, but I don’t encourage her to hate my mom. I validate her feelings, not manipulate them. I apologize to her when I hurt her feelings or when I am rude to her. I owe part of my love for my little sister to my older sister. To show me the sister I don’t want to be. My older sister motivated me to be the best older sister I can. I can say that I would do anything for my little sister. I am thankful to say that my younger sister and I’s arguments mostly are about if we should go get ice cream or go to Target.

While most of my memories of her aren’t fond, I still feel it’s right to thank my older sister. To thank her for helping shape me into the selfless person I am today. For making me care so much about other people’s feelings and emotions because she didn’t care about mine. Because of my experience with her, I now listen to others’ emotions and feelings, and I take myself out of it. I want to continue this trait in my journalistic career, as I listen and care for the people I write about. I want to be a voice for the voiceless, something I once was.  To my sister, thank you for helping me become a caring person and a great older sister.