Family Ties: The Cold War Era

High school. High school was when it all hit the fan ... so to speak.

My freshman year did not go terribly well, and as such I was a pain at home. Sophomore year my friend situation was a bit more stable and I plateaued. But junior year ... Junior year was a disaster.

Mia Sorella was a freshman that year and suddenly we were sharing everything. Rides to school, band, youth group, soccer. All of that time I had previously had to myself I now had to share. And everywhere I went, she was the gregarious, outgoing sister while I was the shy, socially awkward one. That did not bode well for my self-esteem.

Then the cold war began.

My family does not yell. It goes back to my dad's motorcycle accident over thirty years ago -- we just don't do it. Instead, it is generally acknowledged when people are not happy with each other and things get quiet.

All teenagers hit a moment with their parents when they just don't "get" each other anymore. Whether it's the kid's friends' influences, or a generation gap issue, or just a matter of not talking, it happens. That disconnect happened the summer after my sophomore year.

During my junior year, I was not happy to be a part of the family, this weird conglomeration of people that had previously brought so much fun into my life -- and I couldn't get away. Everywhere I went, there was my sister. If she wasn't there, people asked about her. I refused to tell my parents when things were going wrong, under the general assumption that a) they wouldn't understand, and b) they would never want to hear that Mia Sorella was part of the problem.

Which she made herself at times. When I was particularly difficult -- at my most unresponsive times -- she would knowingly provoke me in an attempt to pull me out. While it wasn't always productive in a "traditional" sense, it did get me to react.

Junior year could not end fast enough. The following summer was weirdly Twilight Zone-y. And then senior year started.

To say senior year went badly would not be true. To say it went well would probably also be a stretch.

Senior year started with September 11th. It was a drastic year on the world scene, although only some of that trickled down into my own life at the time. Senior year was a big decision kind of year, as it was for my classmates and so many generations before me. Senior year, above all, had a light at the end of the tunnel: college.

With my improved outlook on life came an improved home life. Things weren't great, by any means -- after three years of difficulty and one particularly rotten year, things weren't going to be fixed overnight. I kept finding reasons to be irritated, most of which still revolved around Mia Sorella. In my eyes, my parents were blatantly favoring her -- a thought which my mother admitted had some truth. But at some point, I realized it didn't matter ... I would be leaving soon.