Re-Education of the Relational Self: Siblings and the big P (part 2)

Siblings and the Patriarchy

Isn't it funny how, given enough time, even the most stubborn of people, systems, expectations, and cycles will change? I haven't quite worked out how that question is relevant to this post, but I'm sure I'll come to it as I continue to write. I've come to learn that even my supposed tangential thinking is rarely coincidental, and therefore even the most obtuse of thought trains can hang by a thread of relevancy. I don't think our parents learned any particular lesson about child-rearing with our older siblings, but despite their steadfast point of view on raising children with the strictest of discipline, none of us really understand why they were just a little less harsh with the younger set of us. Even with the "less harsh" discipline of my childhood, I have worn the badge of "child abuse survivor" like an iron-on patch that eventually begins to curl away from the fabric - the kind that would need to be securely sewn back on if you didn't want to lose it. There have been certain points in my life where I've picked at that badge, trying desperately to remove it like I would an ugly scab. Other times, I've had the needle and thread in my hand, poised to permanently attach it to my identity. Today, I am learning to leave it alone - to simply go on about my business of following the ideals, wisdom, and uncertainties I've gathered on my journey - and maybe one day I will find that it fell off without my even noticing. 

Christin and David experienced the same parents that I did, and both of them have become their own particular version of functioning, contributing-to-society adult. I love them both dearly AND have, in recent years, found it increasingly hard to relate to them. Until writing this post, I hadn't really examined what exactly was getting in the way. So, here it is. 

When did I become a jealous person??

Christin is just shy of two years older than me and I can never keep straight if she ALWAYS wanted to be a wife and mother or if that was something she came to believe once that's what her life looked like. I think she is an Enneagram 3 with a 2 wing; her zodiac sign is Cancer. I honestly could not say whether my memory of her swearing she never wanted kids was accurate or not, but given our extensive experience caring for our nieces and nephews even as young children ourselves, at least one of us had decided it made sense to follow that path. Looking back, it is fascinating to me how she and I never really fought; we shared nearly everything from our room, clothing, and hygiene products to similar musical and artistic talents. We had the same piano teacher, the same "best friends" the same role within our family. It's interesting because, for me as the little sister, it was the perfect setup (other than always wearing hand-me-downs) because I got to be just like her. But I can imagine one in her position could have felt stifled by the lack of individuality and privacy. 

About 17 years ago, Shara had a medical scare that lead to undergoing brain surgery. I spent at least a couple days a week for the next year or so cycling on and off mom duty with Christin so Shara could rest and recover. I liked it because I got to feel like an adult, drinking coffee with her in the morning, staying up later than the kids to debrief the day; I felt useful and important when I was taking care of things for their family. Since Christin was older, she was slightly more favored than me in what she was asked to do and how much time she spent away from home and I was jealous. I was envious of the relational closeness she had with adults I idolized (Shara and Curtis) and it seemed that was directly correlated with her usefulness and ability to take care of people. Maybe this is where I picked up the misguided principle that I could set myself apart as special if I made myself indispensable and mature.

When Amy had her twins, shortly after adopting a set of two siblings, Christin and I (16 and 14 years old at the time) spent countless nights staying over to help with night-time feedings and manage the morning routine for the older kids, all while trying to stay on top of our homeschooling. I don't believe David was ever asked to go, but that was probably for the best because we also used that time to check our forbidden MySpaces and talk to boys on AOL messenger, something we would have never had access to at home. But I was jealous that it seemed he got to spend his free time going on adventures in the woods behind our house, playing at survival, and getting dirty. When we were younger, I got to go along with him, but more and more, it seemed that domestic duties took too much space and I left childish wandering behind. This is probably where my resentment toward people who got to do what they wanted was created, and how I slowly became trapped by my own idea of what I MUST do in order to be valued. 

I've never really asked Christin how she made the transition to college and eventually married life with children. I'm sure part of me knew, but it wasn't until I began writing this post that I became conscious of it. From what I could tell, my mother was thrilled that she was "doing things in the right order" AND she married a music pastor at that! Christin received LOTS emotional support from my mother when she became a wife and when she became a mother with her first, second, and third child. This subsequently seemed to bond them closer together. Christin followed the formula, and magically, the love and attention I always yearned for was freely given. She followed the trajectory that had been laid out for her since birth, and she was uplifted and praised as a good woman (and good daughter) because of it. 

What was the difference between that and what I did? Well, for starters, I hadn't upheld the standards of sexual purity, so even when I did get married, it didn't feel particularly blessed. The choice to get a graduate degree instead of becoming a young mother was never openly discussed (not to my face anyway), but the disappointment of an unfulfilled duty to god was palpable. I was using my youth and body in ways that were selfish instead of sacrificing those years to creating new life and raising children the way our mother did. I often vacillated on whether or not I wanted children at all - the ultimate sin. Most of the time, I felt that I could be a good enough mother, but I could never quite understand why all the mothers I knew didn't even particularly like motherhood while simultaneously spewing reason after reason of why it is every woman's duty (and privilege) to bear children. 

I talked a little about David in a previous post. He is a little less than two years younger than me, and we got a long pretty well as children; I felt we had the strongest connection from the time my dad exited our lives to when I left for college. David didn't particularly like reading or playing the piano (two of my favorite activities) but we did a lot of indoor and outdoor chores together and experimented with weird food combinations. I think he is an Aquarius and an Enneagram 8, possibly with a 7 wing. I've come to realize that even though I felt very close to him in those two years, our dynamic was unhealthy. I had always felt somewhat protective of him, but I REALLY took on a maternal role during that time. Even though that was stressful, I liked being a useful part of his life. I felt like he relied on me in a way he didn't rely on other people and that made me feel good. 

When he joined the Marine Corps, I thought that he surely didn't understand that would mean he would be taken far away from me. Surely he would be sad to be so far away from me? I had been holding on to a trauma bond that he had already decided weighed him down. He needed to get out and create his own life; and it felt like a slap in the face. We vaguely stayed in touch during his first deployment to Japan, but he couldn't come back for my wedding and I got busy with grad school. When I started my own therapy, I had countless sessions grieving my pain tied to David and the loss that I felt around our relationship. I felt guilty for leaving him, rejected by his lack of contact, and stupid for loving him more than he loved me - for expecting to mean more to him than I did. 

Perspectives are so fascinating. A couple Christmases ago, I was in Florida over Christmas visiting Anne; David and his family lived a couple hours away, so they joined us for a small celebration. After dinner, I was washing dishes and David was drying when he started recalling a memory from many years ago. I have very few memories of our childhood and I still could neither confirm nor deny that this actually happened. His memory was in our childhood home's kitchen with me washing dishes and him drying, just like the current moment. Then he recalled our father's dissatisfaction with my quality of dish-washing - how he determined that the error was in the temperature of water used - so he held my hands under scalding hot water. David said he remembered thinking how stupid I had been for getting myself in that mess as I was wailing from the pain. When I tell you I whipped around so fast...whoooo boy. Words were said. 

Hours later, I was processing that interaction and I felt the old, familiar devastation flood over me again. How could he have thought that about me if we had been as close as I thought we were? Why would he tell me about that particular memory from that perspective? What was he trying to tell me? My therapist brain also kicked on and made all kinds of assumptions, came to conclusions, and made diagnoses. I could not wrap my brain around this person who was uninterested in seeing the value I brought to any relationship, but more specifically, the relationship between us. "Well shit", I thought.  "I'm still defining my worth based upon the opinions of other people, especially people who act like they don't care about me all that much." And after all the work I had done to specifically NOT do that...

Maybe it's because David, as a male in the Farney family, is somehow put on a weird pedestal, but I have huge beef with my concept of him. I don't understand how he gets to act aloof and as though he doesn't care about maintaining a connection with our family and everyone still basically worships him. Why does he get to drink alcohol in my mother's very dry home and not get in trouble? How did he create a successful life without the years of therapy I went through? Why do I still want his approval when he has all but flat out said my career is nonsense? And, the prime question: "Why do I have to reduce him into a one dimensional caricature in order to understand him?

Jealousy is hindering my growth, so what can I do now?

So, how do I heal the spirit of Jealousy that hinders my ability to be in compassionate relationship with both of these siblings? How often is this a hurdle in my other relationships? I may have mentioned this in a previous post, but I think jealousy is a primary vehicle of dissension utilized by the big P. If I am distracted by the jealousy I feel for my sister receiving my mother's love and affection, I will put my efforts toward finding ways to get some of that for myself. I have repeatedly looked for love in people who were not capable of giving it to me. These futile efforts will eventually wear me down to return to the position of "I am not Okay", rendering me ineffective to make meaningful change in my own life, much less the lives of my loved ones and the systems in which I'm a part. While I'm locked into the "how" and "why" of my brother's nonchalance, my energy is consumed in dead-end cycles that could eventually cause me to yield - to give in to learned helplessness and surrender to my own inefficacy. 

Obviously, self love is important. Being whole as an individual is the goal. But what if we turned jealousy on its head and took a position of curiosity? That vulnerable position could get me hurt, sure; but it could also be a key to increasing my capacity to have compassion for myself and others. Curiosity about my inner workings - walking through the space of my mind, gently surveying without judgement - seems like it would take up so much energy that I wouldn't even have time to be upset about the love and attention others have not given me...that is, if I am brave enough to take responsibility for that which I find within myself. The balance will be understanding where all the stuff came from and figuring out when and why I decided it was too scary to do the clean up on Aisle 4 myself. I COULD worry myself to death how all my stuff was poking out and causing trouble for other people, but that could easily turn into a situation where I am changing to accommodate other people, instead of being motivated by my own desire for balance and inner peace. 

One of the problems with the patriarchy is its ability to subtly disguise every truth but its own as false and therefore something to be fought. I think my next steps are reaching out to all my siblings, from that curious vantage point, and being intentional about holding space for the lessons they've learned and how they have come to the beliefs they hold. My hope is that I can begin to move beyond my desire for superiority and synthesize the perspectives they share. We fear what we do not understand, and what we do not understand can either be the impetus for further evolution or the ball and chain that stunts our growth as a species. We all seek truth, and we are all doing our best. Expand, transform, thrive. 

Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts and connect with you! Comment and subscribe here on the blog! Follow and direct message me on Instagram @justoldgray!