Life is treated like a marathon. We spend our days running from one event to the next: skipping lunch when we are behind schedule, cutting hangouts short to catch the next class, and falling asleep in the midst of thoughts about tomorrow. We run, run, run, until our hearts become weary, and until our minds become numb to the world around us. Nothing can penetrate our tunnel of vision unless it includes a bright sign reading “finish line.” We don’t stop until we see the end, or what we believe to be the end.
And in this moment, our tunnel crumbles to the ground and it opens our eyes wider than ever before. The realization that we had just run an entire marathon hits full swing and the life that we had just created is seen in the light for the first time. Every aspect of our past life is reviewed, questioned, and analyzed. It is in this moment that we are fully hit with an impact; and it is in this moment that life begins having meaning. It is the split second of clarity that finally puts the shattered pieces of our lives back together, and helps us keep running. Because even though we believed that the sign saying “finish line” was telling the truth, it was only just the beginning to a life full of numerous other events.
This is how I saw my life when I reflected over my childhood years. Growing up with three siblings and not even attempting to appreciate their presence until it was gone- that was my personal marathon. I lived my life separately and didn’t bother to notice the effects that we had on each other-- that is, until the day came where I thought would be the end.
It was a quiet week in my house once my older sister Rachel, and my older brother Ben had moved back into college. My twin brother Zach was about to join Ben up at Michigan State and I would follow Rachel’s footsteps at Michigan the following week. Something about sending Zach off to college felt different than the previous years with my other two siblings. Yes, I had been closer to Zach and therefore felt a stronger level of sadness towards his departure. After all, we had grown up together and gone through every life event side by side. From spending every day in the double stroller together while my mom pulled us on a bike, all the way through until our senior prom and high school graduation, we had a certain twin bond that just couldn’t be beaten. For several days prior to his college move-in, I had assumed this was why I had a sudden feeling of nostalgia. I let this rationale take flight in my brain and let it soar to new heights of sadness. However, something happened on that day in which my heart was suddenly torn into a new level of confusion.
This was my moment of impact. It was the day when the shattered pieces of my life finally came together, with the truth coming to me in the form of a domino effect. It started when my older brother Ben met us at Zach’s dorm and immediately picked me up in a warm embrace. He had a smile that spread from ear to ear and he practically jumped with joy at the sight of our car. “Looks like all the Limb’s can now party it up at college together!” he shouted to my parents. Walking up just in time for this comment, my sister shook me from behind and exclaimed, “Can’t wait for that!” I was momentarily shocked to hear such unity in their voices. It suddenly occurred to me that we were no longer in different places of our lives. We were all seeing each other as equals for the first time since we were children, and it felt oddly comforting. It was the moment when we all sat down for lunch and agreed to meet up every month to catch up with our lives that I finally felt the sting of emotion. For the first time in years, I saw my life as a bigger picture. I no longer looked into the future and saw what I would be doing in 10 years, but I saw what all four of us would be doing together. It was a new and exciting feeling to know that my siblings would do anything for me and I would do anything for them. At the same time, I felt a sliver of regret that soon grew and took hold of my sanity. Why did I have to realize this truth once they were no longer a constant part of my life? Why did it take the flashy “finish line” banner to help me realize that I had spent my entire life running away from the only thing in life worth doing anything for--family? 
It took me back to the golden years of our childhood. The endless summer days spent in the depths of our creek: walking barefoot through the muddy maize and dodging the slippery stones and the mysterious, murky waters. Acting as if we were crocodile hunters on the prowl for our latest discovery, we devoted hours to the hunt of what lie ahead. The unknown. It bursted with life and intrigue, and it bonded us siblings for summers on end. Nothing screamed a successful day more than digging up a pile of sticks to find a turtle or reaching a new end of the woods that held more areas for playing. It was fascinating to see the potential for adventure and successfully act on it with my siblings by my side.
And here we stand, to this day, connected by one thing: the unknown. The unknown of what lies ahead, beyond the creek, is something that has always kept us tightly knit. Just as my brother could save me from an epic fall into the deepest part of the creek, I know that I will rely on him once again. I know that the unknown, the blank chapters in the pages of our lives, must be filled with each other in order to feel complete. At the end of the day, it wasn’t my friends that playfully shoved me to brush my teeth. It wasn’t my friends who cuddled next to me while we read a bedtime story. It was the same people who had spent the day leading me through the vast and unknown wilderness of my suburban neighborhood. It was my brothers and sister who had helped create a dazzling and vivacious unknown out of the dreary, normality of our lives. Through them and them alone, I see a future filled with love and support.
In hindsight, it is easy to sit here and appreciate their positive influence throughout my life. Wouldn’t it be a fairy tale ending if I were to have let this appreciation take root in my life and help me blossom in my teenage years, helping me grow into a pleasant princess with a picture perfect family? Yes, that would have been too good to be true--almost Disney worthy. In reality, love is often felt; but rarely expressed. After all, what kind of angsty teenage girl actually admits to needing her family? I for one refused to believe this was the way the world worked. Yes, I had a wonderful family that would do anything for me, but life continues to change and the fatigue of the marathon takes its toll. We had eventually run for so long that suddenly, I lost sight of my siblings. We started the race together, but somewhere along the way, they sped ahead. I was appalled at their sudden separation from me and decided to give them a taste of their own medicine.
Oh, the middle school days; also known as the dark ages. In literal terms, the darkness of the newfound eyeliner and in metaphorical terms, the darkness of my own mind. It was a time of confusion and a time of change. It was a time for questioning the ways of the world along with rebelling against it. Therefore, it was only in my teenage nature to repel away from anything that was familiar and known. The summer days at the creek had been replaced with trips to the mall. The cozy nights at home were swapped out with sleepovers at a friend’s. The transitions were quick and almost instant, yet I firmly believed that I was innocent in the situation. After all, I was the one lagging behind in the race. My siblings had already found their own lives and abandoned our life together. The moment they entered the teenage world, I was out of the picture. My brother no longer acknowledged my presence in the school hallways and my sister refused to let me in her room when she was with friends. I began to question myself more than anything, and I let myself believe I was the problem. The pain was felt from deep within my heart and the deepest blues of despair blended with the delicate red of my heart to create a whirlwind of violent black. In other words, I didn’t take this change lightly.
What would any respectable young girl do about this shift in life? Get revenge, of course. I decided to shut them out of my life and dare not to look back at the ripple of effects I had created. The world enjoys the simple irony in life, and for me, the world was sitting back with popcorn watching the irony unfold, with an evil smile on its face. Fighting fire with fire was what my daily routine became. I was so certain that I was being pushed away from my family, but I was the creator of this mass destruction. I had been running, running, running, not stopping to catch my breath, and not even slowing down long enough to see that I had missed the water stand; the essential break from my crazy mess of a life. I had passed my siblings and didn’t even hear their desperate pleas for me to wait for them. My tunnel vision of selfishness surrounded me like a soundproof wall, and so the laughs from the world continued. The vicious cycle of irony, the vicious vision of a misguided teenager: that would have been the title of my momentary memoir.
Little did I realize, this battle against my siblings was just a battle against myself. The more I tried to create a barrier between them, the more I created a maize inside my own head. No longer was I an innocent girl waking up in the morning with only the excitement of a new adventure on her mind: I was spending all my energy on the focus of others. My own personal growth took a back seat, and because of this, I became a zombie. A person numb to all normal emotions and a person unable to truly give and receive love. I tried to hide my abnormalities among the mix of other teenage girls, but eventually, they were resurfaced. The truth always has a way of exposing itself- it works on its own agenda. I could no longer feel the same love towards my friends as I once did for my family. It wasn’t a raw, natural feeling; it was an obsessive, aggressive type of love. The kind of love that consumes your every thought. When I heard a story at school, I thought about how my friends would react to it before I even considered my own reaction. When I woke up on Friday mornings, I questioned who I would be spending the night with, and what excuses I would need in order to convince my parents to let me be exempt from any planned family event. I wasn’t showing genuine love this way- it was a type of avoidance. I was avoiding the bigger problems of my life by trying to fill the empty spaces. These relationships were not full of substance and meaning, rather, convenience. Yes, I loved my friends and still value their significance in my life, but I also see the flaws in the early years of our friendships. I see the flaws in spending all of my time with them rather than making time for my family. And most importantly, I see the flaws in the ways in which I loved them.
The idea of love should always scream dedication. With my friends, I was dedicated to doing anything they wanted, but it always came with a price. Usually, the price I paid was a sacrifice of time. Was it truly healthy to love them so much that it took me away from everything else in my life? I started questioning the concept of love, and I was surprised with the answers that began to bombard me.
Love is patient and love is kind. That is what I grew up hearing with my ears, but never fully heard with my heart. Within this simple phrase, I learned to never underestimate the power of perseverance. At the root of every relationship, there is a level of commitment that took time and love to form. I began to find a connection between the insanity in my life and the love that grew from it. They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, but what they don’t mention is that insanity involves perseverance. For my sister, she embarked on her own journey of insanity in order to make up for lost time in our relationship. As soon as she entered her last year of high school, she had a change of heart towards the way she was living her life. It suddenly hit her that all four of us siblings were in the same school, and it was the last time this would ever happen. It was the last time we would all start our mornings and finish our afternoons together. She went wild with the idea of “family time” and I began to title her new efforts to unite us as “forced family fun.” Every game night I spent locked up in the dark confinements of my room, and every movie night I zoned out the chatter of discussion and put in headphones to focus on my own thoughts. To me, the idea of family was something of the past, and I considered it insanity to try to relive the past and expect a different result from before, which was the gradual separation from each other. However, what I didn’t understand was that within her constant attempts to save our relationship, there was a pattern of consistency, and it tore away at my walls little by little.
Eventually, Rachel went off to college, and two years following, Ben did as well. It was just Zach and I at home, and we were forced to grow close due to the fact that we were the “last men standing.” I began noticing the emptiness and quietness around the house, and my parents gave up on trying to have family nights. Conveniently at the time in which I was no longer given a reason to rebel against family, it was the time I started appreciating them. Although I talked to my brother and sister on the phone from time to time, for the most part, our relationship lost its consistency. My sister was no longer driving herself to insanity just to get to know me, but enough of the walls had been torn down to make me wish she still did. I longed to love so freely and organically as she did. I longed to fight my way out of my own mind and figure out how this could be possible.
In my last year of high school, I made a point to form deeper, more genuine relationships. I felt it was necessary to make up for lost time with my family by seeking the same type of love from my friends. I had invested so much time in them throughout the years, and was overjoyed with our tightly knit bonds that had been created. However, just as I knew it would, the year flew by and we all prepared to go off to our separate colleges. It was a time of reflection and a time of emotion. Everything had built up until the final day of moving Zach in, and the truth of my life’s journey had burst out the second I made my revelation. The second I heard my brother and sister talk so excitingly about our futures together, I knew that I was wrong the whole time. My friendships were temporary, and my family was forever. The sincere love I had struggled to give and receive was all hidden among the roots of my childhood, and I realized that in order to fully feel this love, I had to tap into my roots. I surrendered myself to a life full of family and love, and once I was able to do this, I knew I could escape from the fogginess of my mind. I was finally filled with purpose that felt right. I was ready for college; I was ready for a new race. My heart was no longer heavy with the regret of my past because it was too full with the love that was bursting from its seams. I was ready to start a new marathon, and I couldn’t wait to race my siblings to the finish line.