Family

So...Family. One of those words I feel is hard to define. It's about as hard as "home". I think a lot about family, though, because by blood I don't have much of it, and my step-dad's family...doesn't feel like family to me. I adore them, but they're just not really "family" to me. So what is family? Family is those people who stick around no matter what. For me, family is those people who loved me at the deepest depression, and the people who loved me when I got out of the hospital. Family is those people who dealt with my crazy mood swings and bizarre behavior before we knew I was bipolar. My mother, who sacrificed so much of herself for my sake. While I was in elementary school, she drove 20 minutes away just so I could keep going to the best elementary school in town (despite only being able to afford a single room in the bad part of town). My sister Elsie, who has dealt with my ass since I was two years old. She's even lived with me. She is always there for me, and I would do anything for her. My sister Amy, I didn't even meet her until I was 13 or 14, but she's always treated me just like a sister would. I love her absolutely to death, and she doesn't know but she was one of the few people who was there for me when I got out of the hospital. My best friend Frank, who has dealt with the absolute worst of me. He's seen the worst of the worst, the lowest lows, and the craziest of the mania. He's still my best friend, despite all the shit I've put him through. Maybe I have my experiences to thank, but I don't define family as a blood relation. That blood relation is just a coincidence you choose to follow up with. Some people disagree and think it's all about blood, but in my life I've learned blood doesn't mean much.

Step two? Making sure those people who've earned the title of family, know how appreciated they are...