Sierra's View: Brutal.

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Sunday, October 30, 2011


I am going to be brutally honest right now.
I try my hardest to not have angry, emotional, irrational posts (no, I only do that in person).
But right now, I have a lot of things that I need to get out. 
And I feel like I need to explain some more life lessons that have been learned and some life lessons that others need to learn, despite my less than tactful manner. 

It has been a HARD weekend. There is no other way to put it.
Coming home was the best decision. It is, actually, the first time me and all of my siblings have been together for a year and a half. I have been lucky enough to be given a wonderful family who supports one another when each other are facing hardships. This weekend has been another testament that this awful trial has happened to my sister, my family, because the Lord knows of our ability to be strong. We are strong, huh? Go Ainge's!

Holland's funeral was beautiful. I did okay in the beginning. In the viewing, I was able to hold it together for the first little while. Then, after moments of fighting, I lost it. I cried so much that I think my body was unable to cry any more later that day. She was so loved by so many good people. There were some absolutely incredible moments that are too sacred, too special, to share here. I was reminded of how lucky I am to contain the knowledge that families are forever, that the Atonement encompasses the entire roller coaster of emotions that we are all feeling, and that there is, in fact, an after life. 

Yesterday I was given an massage by my aunt Sharyl (Ya Ya, you are amazing) and moments after the massage...I broke down. Now, don't get me wrong, I have broken down multiple times since last week. But, this time was different. I shut down (the psychology of touch is so apparent, let me tell you) emotionally, physically, and mentally. I became upset. And angry. And just plain sad. 

Now, before I continue on, I need to preface some things. I do not want you to think that I am being selfish. I came home for my sister, to support her, and to strengthen each other. I do not want you to think that I am only thinking of me and my selfish desires and experiences. I just need to get this out. 

This entire week has been about motherhood. It's entire focus has been about the joys (and hardships) of motherhood. Now, I can certainly sympathize with this experience, but I am unable to empathize with my sisters as they are going through these experiences.
And once again, I am left out of the equation.
I have always felt this way in my family and I think this weekend was the first time I finally, honestly, realized it. 
I feel left out.
It sounds so juvenile, I know. But as I sit there and watch all of my sisters cry with one another and communicate with one another, I am completely left out of the situation. I am unable to help Lexie in the same way that Mckenna is. And that hurts. A lot.  I constantly am aching for my sister. And I hope she knows that I wish more than anything I could take the pain from her. Even though I feel inadequate to help her, I just try to support. 
And that is part of the problem. I feel helpless. 
 I am (or feel) completely unable to be there in the same way that my sisters are.  
I am always the "baby sister." And I always will be. When will I ever stop being the baby sister?
I feel out of the place; I don't belong. 
This weekend has been intense. 
I am a wreck. 
And as I watch my sisters, I am reminded of how lonely this grieving process has been for me. I am reminded of how lonely this stage of my life really is. 

I just had an experience earlier this day that solidifies the above statement . I texted multiple people asking them if they could pick me up from the airport. People, who specifically have contacted me saying, "If you need anything, I am here." Guess who responded with a "yes." One. One person. And it was because she could sense my desperation (Allie, you are simply amazing. Seriously). And you want to know what's even more sad? Their responses all included things like, "I have a dance. I have a party. I have homework."
Now, do not get me wrong, I understand that it is Halloween night. 
But, really? 
This lack of loyalty is exactly what I mean. 
I have learned to only put up my guard because if people are only going to give me the surface; then I am going to give them just the surface back. 

It makes me wonder when people say the words anything or anytime. 
Really, people need to change that statement to: If you need anything, and it's convenient for me, then I'll do it.
I don't have a buddy. I don't feel like I have many people who, when push comes to shove, will be available when I am in dire need. 
And whether that sounds selfish or shallow, it is how I feel. 
(Note: There ARE people who are there. They just all happen to be in Oregon. Ha)

The grieving process, in general, is a lonely process.
And I know all of these emotions are stemming from that particular process.
It brings out emotions, feelings that are so deep, they slowly creep out whether we want them to or not.
But right now, I am so exhausted, the emotions are only heightened. 

A part of me wants to relate back to my expectations post because this process is something that I need to go through by myself. I cannot expect others to live up to my expectations right now. 
Because, the reality is, people do not know what to do. They are unable to do things just the way that I may want or particularly need. 
This is something that I need to do on my own time and in my own way. 
It's amazing what death can do to a person. 
It can make or break them. 
And I know I am strong enough to get past all of this negative emotion to ultimately help others in a positive way.

But the brutal life lesson I have learned is this:  life really is a personal journey.
Our relationship with the Savior is a personal one.
Our difficult experiences are happened alone.
And we, as humans, need to learn to deal with these experiences on our own.
Because the only way we ever grow, is if were go through it individually.
Just as this entire grieving process is another experience I need to go through on my own.
"We're born alone. We live alone. We die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." -Orson Welles.


  1. Sierra, I feel like whenever you are "brutally honest", I can relate. I love these posts. Cause I know exactly how you're feeling. That is SO frustrating. Especially in such a hard time. I try so hard not to vent on my blog cause my mom and others freak out, but it's YOUR blog to put YOUR thoughts! That is such a hard and frustrating situation. I can't relate to being the younger babysitter in the family, but I feel like I can understand you and feel sad 'with' you. I think even if you feel you are not being as much of a support to your sisters as the other sisters even though you are doing your best, you are being more of a support than you think. You were the babysitter and have that special bond with nieces and nephews that the other mommies who are 'supportive' don't have. That bond is more important than being able to 'relate'. Be strong Si. Thanks for your honest posts that help me understand my own feelings as well. Love you

  2. Sierra, as always you put it so well. Your perspective is valid. Dem complains about being the youngest too. But....

    Maybe you don't believe me but since you are not a mom, you can help your sister in your own unique way. I didn't see any of your other sisters have a facebook picture with them holding Holland. They have a different role now and they are holding their own

    Grief is very personal and very tough. My heart goes out to you all.

    You are right though about our earthy probation being a journey alone. The temple ceremony makes that very clear. (Which is a comfort to me in my current single state.)

    And just for the record, I would come and get you from the airport next time!

  3. i'm sorry sierra. i'm sure lexie would say that you have helped her in ways bri and mckenna can't. we all have our place and yours is a special place, the baby. i love being the baby, although it does suck when you finally have kids and your sisters aren't as excited to babysit for you as you were for them.
    and i, too, would have picked you up from the airport. you do have those who love you here in utah too, i just get selfish from time to time, but you know where my house is girl, our door is always open. always!

  4. I could have given you a ride!!

  5. It's not just the baby that gets that feeling... For some reasons I understand and for other reasons I don't understand, having (or not having) a husband and children too often becomes a line of demarkation between people, even within an otherwise strong, loving family. My parents have a wall with pictures of their children and grandchildren. I am not pictured on that wall, presumably because I don't have a family of my own. It always hurts to feel excluded, but you still have the power to choose to see how you fit in. I don't always do a good job seeing that, and frankly, there are days where I just don't care enough to try. :) But when I sincerely look for it (or choose to look past the obvious differences and exclusions), I always find ways that I fit in.

  6. Sounds like a rough day.

    Not having kids may mean you can't relate to *that* piece of losing a child, but I think you have a special place in your family. I know not having kids has made me more available to help my family out in rough times - my family members with kids have to go back to "taking care of their kids" pretty quickly. I can be available much longer and on much shorter notice. It's kind of nice.

    And I know we don't know each other well, but I also live in Utah and could have given you a ride :)


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