I hated my sister growing up. 

I’m sure it is decently common for siblings to butt-heads growing up, but I truly held disdain for my sister, Serena. If you have been keeping up, then you know that I wanted to be the center of attention. To this day, the urge to be the center of attention exists – I am writing about myself, after all. In any case, from the moment I gained sentience I remember envying when Serena had attention, even when she rightfully deserved it. Oh, how things have changed. 

For 6 years, it was just Serena, me, and my parents. Andrew was born in 2006, and Katelyn quickly followed in 2007. Mind you, Serena is 6 years older than me. I occupy the ideal position between my siblings: equidistant from my older and younger.

Don’t get me wrong, Serena and I had great times growing up. I loved watching her play video games on the PlayStation 2 or on our home computer. Or, when we visited Nanny and Tata – our grandparents on my mom’s side – I’d watch her play Barbie Detectives via CD-ROM on their dinosaur computer, most certainly taken from Tata’s previous office job downtown. The soundtrack to the game plays in my head, irreplicable by my own tryings, yet still, will never fail to bring a fond memory of Serena and I to the surface. Of course, there were times where I’d hate her while gaming too: playing Totally Spies or Lilo & Stitch Sandwich Stacker was sure to get me a sucker-punch to the arm, while she screamed, “QUIT MAKING ME LOSE!”

Other times, I would be the aggressor. I fondly remember running in circles around our very-large-for-lower-middle-class-kitchen-and-front-room. They were separated only by a sliver of foyer and two open door frames. I believe the rest of the family was outside. After she chased me for what was certainly a dozen laps, I grabbed one of her hardcover textbooks that was sitting on our kitchen counter, and chucked it toward her. It hit her thigh flat-on, leaving one of the nastiest, largest bruises I had ever seen. See also: the time I hid at the bottom of our stairs to the basement, in the dark, only to jump out and bite her leg when she passed by. 

And I hated when Serena had a boyfriend – which was most of highschool. Any time a boy came over I was assigned to chaperone. I watched movies with her and her boyfriends, I swam with them in our pool, I walked with them to the playground of my elementary school down the street. At the time, I was happy to be included, but I knew I wasn’t wanted there. Today, I just find it weird; A parent and their child should have trust – I digress. After a while it got old, she didn’t want me on her dates and I didn’t want to be there either. I think a few times we worked out a deal (which was surely just giving me a Hershey’s Cookies ‘n Cream Bar) to part ways and not tell. But as an attention-seeking golden-child does, I would always tell our mom. 

I envied my sister growing up.

As I grew and realized I was queer. I recognized that I would never have the experiences Serena did. I knew very early that I would not tell my parents I was gay until I had moved to college. I understood that I would never bring boys home in the same way, my younger siblings would never be forced to chaperone. I’d never have those awkward yet enthralling family dinners where we would all meet the boyfriend. My mom and younger siblings would never peek through the blinds, making sure the couple at the car was not making out. These things I thought I hated, I came to miss having never had. 

I would not have a high school relationship, or two, or three. The times chicago came over, how I wish I could’ve told; My parents, my siblings, my grandparents: “This is my boyfriend”. Not even Serena knew back then.  

I envied the friends my sister had, they were much more my style. I was forced to play sports: soccer, golf, basketball. Trying to make friends in these spaces was a daunting task. I had to obstruct my very obvious queerness, while further convincing my peers that I shared their interests. The entirety of which I was uninterested in. Serena did sports some too, but in school her main extracurricular was theater. I remember seeing Serena in Honk Jr. in middle school, and her productions throughout high school: Annie, Back to the 80’s, SchoolHouse Rock, & The Wizard of Oz. Each and every production made my jaw drop. Seeing her on stage, performing, thriving; I was engulfed in envy. Hearing the chant on stage after each show, running out into the commons, followed by hugs, laughs, and stories of an amazing cast party to come. Not only did I want to do the same, but she was once again taking attention away from me. 

When Serena was auditioning for the Wizard of Oz, I remember practicing Somewhere Over The Rainbow with her in our dining room. She sounded great, but didn’t need to; She was auditioning for the wicked witch – her biggest role yet. While we practiced, Serena told me that her directors would be casting children from the district’s elementary schools to play the Munchkins of Oz. Immediately, I knew this was my chance. The next morning, I asked my teacher if I could go visit our music teacher, Ms. Baxter. With my teacher’s approval, I sprinted to her classroom to ask if she knew about the auditions. She did and said it would be announced on Friday, but that she would tell me now anyway. 

My sister and I both failed our auditions. 

She was cast as a flying monkey and a munchkin. 

I was not cast. 

Had I been cast, not only would I have gotten to perform alongside my sister, but I would have met many of my best friends I would make in the future. I rectified the situation by vowing to perform better in theater than Serena ever did. And I would achieve that goal by obtaining a supporting lead in my very first role: Ryan Evans in High School Musical Jr.; however, it was not until my junior year of high school where I would truly feel complete in this mission, as I received the final bow with the role of Matthew Hudlocke in The Marriage of Bette and Boo. 

Serena did my hair and makeup for every single performance I was in; attended nearly every performance I was in; her performance gifts were always extravagant: flowers, balloons, candy, money, drinks.

Serena was my biggest supporter.

I envied Serena for her time on the stage, but it is what inspired me to meet my best friends.

In 2012, Serena moved out of the house, 3-hours away, to attend college at Fort Hays State University. This was the event I was most envious of; in fact, I was distraught. Serena was escaping the throat-clenching control of our parents. 

What I have failed to mention thus far, is how much of a foundation Serena was for me when our parents failed. Our home was no stranger to the tequila-fueled fights of Joe and Tammy. These screaming matches are not mere arguments: they were two grown adults, yelling at the other with enough force, bass, and vibrato to rumble any sleeping child awake. These fights could last anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours. They were normally nonphysical, but on occasion our parents chose to push their limits. 

I recall  Joe’s clothes being  burned in the front room fireplace or my mom’s plates shattered onto the kitchen floor. When the fights were that  bad, I would crawl my way from my bedroom in the corner of the house, through the hallway, foyer, and dining room to get to the staircase downstairs to Serena’s room, being careful to avoid crossing in front of mirrors or using any creaky doors. Alternatively, if my parents occupied this path, I would crawl past the hallway, into my parents’ room, and through their bathroom to the basement staircase. 

During these fights, Serena would comfort me, put on Spongebob to drown out the fighting, and assure me, “No, they won’t get divorced.” How I wish they had. If only catholicism had not rotted their brains past the point of no return, my parents would have realized that they were never meant for each other in the first place. What heartache, turmoil, and trauma could have been avoided? 

So, when Serena left for FHSU, I feared that I would need to become that foundational figure for my younger siblings, when I could not yet be that person for myself. Further, I was just beginning to understand my sexuality and the repercussions that would hold within my own home; not having Serena around would make things even that much worse. I sobbed getting onto the school bus the morning Serena moved. I knew we would visit that very next weekend, but I was deeply sad and deeply scared. In the months that followed, Serena and I would skype from my Nanny’s laptop after I got home from school each day. Setting up the webcam and getting to visit with Serena alongside Nanny and Tata is incredibly special to me. On these video calls, Serena would ask me if everything is okay at home… I wasn’t sure why, but now I understand: things had never been okay at home. 

Clearly, Serena was a protector of my siblings and I. She made sacrifices that belonged to my parents. For much of Serena’s adolescence and young adulthood she babysat my siblings and I. Serena sacrificed her freedom, regardless of if it would have been spent working or leisurely. There were plenty of occasions where Serena would cook for us or put us to sleep at night. My parents were around, of course, but Joe worked nights, meaning any evening event that my mom needed to attend, Serena was required to babysit. Our mom even attended night school for multiple semesters during this time, forcing Serena to sacrifice even more. Certainly, I am in support of my parents doing what is necessary to provide for their children; however their sacrifices should fall on their own shoulders, not their children’s. 

Yet, I was happy for my sister. There are so many experiences that she and I have, that our younger siblings are ignorant to; so many stories that we will one day get to share with them. I knew that leaving home was what Serena wanted, what she needed nonetheless. I am ever-grateful for her insistence to check up on me and my siblings. Seeing Serena move to college showed me that I could too; I could escape; I will make it out alive. 

As I grew older, I envied death, so my sister killed it. 

Serena saved my life. Not just once, but twice. 

In my adolescence, suicide sounded sweet: blood sugar salvation. I was in 6th grade when Serena moved to Hays. While discovering my own sexuality, dealing with the gay accusations at school, and trying to be happy at home with abusive parents and an impending Catholic Confirmation, I found suicide to be quite tempting. I no longer had Serena at home to rely on. In the winter of 6th grade, I attempted suicide for the first time by hanging myself from my closet pole. The pole was old, thin, and wooden, so it broke immediately. That Spring, Serena would come home for Tata’s surprise birthday party at Red Lobster. It was there that Serena and I would both vomit in the bathroom. We left early, and on the drive home she told me she was pregnant with her first son, Anthony. 

That conversation is one that I will hold dear to me for the remainder of my life; every word, every phrase, and every dry heave – from the both of us – on the way home. In 2023, I told Serena something I had only spoken once, to my best friend, Kayla:

After I found out Serena was pregnant, I vowed that I would not die, at least not by my own hand. I wanted to be there for Anthony. I wanted him to have an uncle, and a gay one at that. I want him to know that his mere existence is perfect. Anthony, by way of Serena, gave me a reason to live. 

Anthony would change my perspective on Serena. Not only was she capable of the physicality of mothering (being physically present for her children) but the emotional capacity she has for her children is inspiring. She treats them in ways that we, as children, never received. She guides them, she teaches them, she nurtures them. She is patient, she is gentle, and she is supportive. A better mother could not exist. 

The emotional capacity motherhood provided Serena is what saved my life again. 

In 2018, I was outed. The person to tell me I had been outed was Serena; she called me hours before my parents were able to question me. Serena was the first person in my immediate family that I told I was gay; I sobbed. 

My outing made me severely suicidal. I thought about killing myself every second of every day. Finally, I advocated for myself, and told my parents that the way they were treating me is pushing me to the brink of extinction. If they continued, I would kill myself. I wanted to end my life, and I was no longer even slightly afraid of doing so. 

Not knowing what to do, my parents called Serena. Somehow, Serena was able to talk me off the ledge. I am still quite unsure how, because at the time, death was my only craving.

Thank you, Serena. 

Today, Serena is my best friend. We chat constantly, sending voicemails of the most trivial happenings to our deepest concerns. We gossip about our family, our friends, and our life. I turn to her for advice and she reciprocates. Our relationship in adulthood is blissful: We see each other and we comprehend. Our lives are entirely different, yet we understand each other incredibly well. I am so grateful to have her as a sounding board, an inspiration, and a blueprint. 

With every fiber of my being, every cell in my body, every pulse in my brain: Serena, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Serena saved me, and in the process, taught me how to save – myself and our younger sister: Katelyn.