Am I a Bad Person?

Ever since I can remember, my mom has always outlawed the word 'hate' in our home. Even now, as a 25 year old, she still corrects me when I use the word. And as much as I've always thought that was just the silliest rule, I have grown to not hate people...only 'strongly dislike.' That's why I'm having trouble with writing this. Does it make me a bad person if I really feel like I hate someone...someone who I'm not supposed to hate?

I've had ex-boyfriends in the past treat me like dirt, yet I have learned from every experience and grown from it, so I don't necessarily hate them. I almost take it as far as to thank them for making me the wonderful person I am today.

My dad is a deadbeat. He wasn't a father figure to me, and he, please excuse the terrible literary allusion, busted up practically every branch of our family tree. However, I don't hate him because well, he is my father and he did create me, and I guess I can't really hate him... And also because of him, I gained this amazing relationship with my mother that I never had before, and I wouldn't wish for anything else to have happened because of the friendship I have with her now. Once again, I have to take a positive spin on things and be appreciative of how things with him turned out due to what I gained with my mom.

I'm pretty sure I helped name my sister. I have this memory (with my dad, ironically) of helping get the nursery ready for my new baby sister. I was 7 years old, helping decorate this circus-themed room. I think my mom had a thing for PT Barnum, as I had a circus theme too, but that's neither here nor there.... Anyways, my dad asked me what I wanted to name this new baby sister, and I am pretty sure I up and blurted out "Kelsey." Lo and behold, I have a sister, seven years my junior, named Kelsey. I hope my mom doesn't read this and discredit my story, but that's how I remember it in my brain. Regardless, I feel as if, even though I didn't help make her (ew), I do play a pretty big role in her namesake, and feel like she's more than just my sister. Almost like I had something to do with helping make her...if that makes any sense. It's because of that, I've always been overprotective of Kelsey and wanted her to be the best and have the best in every situation possible. I remember before she started Kindergarten, I tried to teach her the alphabet, so she'd start school knowing more than the other kids. I wrote out that sentence, "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog," (ya know, the one with every letter in the alphabet represented once?) and sat down with her and went over those letters with her until I was sure she knew all of them. I was so proud of that kid. She had the kindest heart of anyone I knew, and was just the sweetest little girl. She had (and still does) this headful of white hair and the cutest little laugh...I can't tell you the last time I heard her laugh. It was so hard not just be in love with Kelsey. I was so proud to call her my sister. We really became close when I moved home from college. It's like I grew up a little and she had grown up a lot, and she was like this friend I had around all the time that lived with me too! I got her a job, and we rode to work together and really strengthened our relationship. It was like we were twins...sharing this language and understanding that no one else could comprehend. It was dynamic. But like all kids do, she grew up even more. She reached the point that every parent (and I guess sisters too) fears; she reached the point where she didn't look up to my mom and I anymore. She just knew everything and didn't need any more help or advice and could do everything on her own. "How old must that have been?" you ask. 13? 14? Middle school? Kelsey was 17. I had a "I'm too cool" spurt around 13 or 14, but quickly grew out of it. So did my friends. And those friends of mine who are teachers now who teach those same 13 and 14 year olds see it in them as well. But I'm living through it with my now-18 year old sister. Maybe we sheltered her for too long. Maybe she'll grow out of it too. I'm not at the point yet where I can see past the hurt and the pain she's put me through. I'm not even going to talk about what she's done to our poor mother, b/c that's another post all together.... I have tried and tried, and hurt and hurt, and given and not gotten back. I'm tired. And I can't just fall over and die, b/c she's my sister and I'm not that kind of person. But lately it seems as if that one outlawed word has been creeping back into my vocabulary when it comes to talking or thinking about her. I don't want it to. I'm ashamed to have these feelings. But I can't help it. I know she hates me, so why can't I just hate her? Am I a bad person for even having these thoughts? Will God forgive me for not wanting to forgive Kelsey? I just want my sister back. The one who I used to teeter around with in my arms, pretending she was my baby, and not the grown woman's who lived with us. The one who I would die for...and sometimes feel lately as if I have. The one whose name came from the mouth of a naive 7 year old, wanting it to have the same first letter as her own. Like she was a part of me. I want that again. I don't want to hate her, and I am tired of hating myself for hating her. Hopefully one day I can add her to the top of this list; thanking her for all of this for the good that would eventually come out of it. Hopefully one day....