I write publicly because it forces me to be honest. Others may not find that to be true of others or themselves, but I know if I am dishonest I will only draw insincere supporters in their own states of denial that if I so chose I could feed off of to support my darkness, my blind spot in a matter. The opposers would be viscous, tenaciously hitting that nerve, provoking me to feel the wound...perverting it to an extreme so I fight it and expose it or become even further dug in and committed to denial of it. I do not want a blind spot in me, something everyone else can see but I cannot even begin to fathom. I do not want resistance fighting off the extreme accusations would grow in me because I do not want to spend the rest of my life fighting anything. I love peace. So, I bring it all out: the extreme perversions said to me and the deepest truths about me that are hiding within but always coming from without to bite me. Pay attention to the "out of left field" questions we feel are completely irrelevant. They hold a message.
So first, the perverted extremes of accusation: My mother went through a phase of studying to become a counselor and so, of course, we were all dragged into her latest fad; to a counselor. One of his questions was: you share a bedroom with your brother, does he ever touch you sexually? I thought that was the strangest question on earth, It had no resonance within me and my brother hated me. He beat me more often than spoke to me in any other manner. Later in life an ex told child welfare people I was going to mate my son and daughter due to some fanatical religious belief in keeping bloodlines pure by incestuous relationships. I was stumped. The most I could hope for with my children was that they don't kill each other, really. I wanted them to be more supportive than my brother was of me, but mating?! Recently a man was showing interest in me (many heartfelt thanks to him for being a catalyst for this journey) and I became clued in that he had been molested as a child by female "siblings" and mother figure (in the name of 'free love', New Age extreme of self-love and open sensuality 'for the children') and that he would, in his present state, molest my children in the least by encouraging them to molest each other. So, I dropped him like a hot potato..... before he could even see a picture of my children...... with love and compassion and a deep understanding of why he is the way he is and that if left to the universe he would get what he needs to trigger his swim across the humbling river of emotion without me (and if he does take that swim across the humbling river-which must be done alone-, the woman who then scores him will be mightily blessed, he is otherwise an absolute gem). Yet the question was a quiet observation "Holy crap, what does incestuous sibling relationships have to do with me? Why would I draw this thing?" These have been the "out of left field" accusations and drawing I believed had absolutely no relevance to me. The existence of them means I drew them somehow, even if they are an extreme opposite of what I experience as the reality of my thinking and beliefs. One extreme draws another, so the illness must then be I am not intimate enough with my feelings in regards to my siblings. I am not "in touch" enough with what is going on between my children emotionally because of my own blind spot and so their relationship has the enmity between them that my brother had for me. So, I explore the relationship between my brother and me.
My brother and I are only 9 months apart in age, so we were basically as tight as twins when young. The stories speak of closeness and double trouble until "I left him" for kindergarten. I don't remember them. Reportedly he used to climb out of his crib every morning, let down the side of mine and we would head for the kitchen. There we would climb up on the counter tops to break out the peanut butter and jelly. Leaving a big gooey, sticky mess behind, we would venture out the door to play with caged pets who would be running free while we road our big wheels everywhere. That was what my mother reportedly woke up to find: messy kitchen, running pets and two toddlers riding around free.
My sister was born just in time for my kindergarten abandonment of my brother. She became his sidekick and underling of which I have no knowledge. I do know school only added to the alienation which hurt me. I got straight A's and was teacher's pet. My brother would follow the next year and hear things like "I expected more of you, to be like your sister". I was a natural horseback riding champion. His saddle girth would loosen halfway around the ring and he and his saddle would go sliding off. We got Odysseys and I tore off, flying through the mud and tearing up the fields while he did a slow little put-put trial. He was growing up in the shadow of "she does everything right" as "he can't get anything right". I cried for him. I wanted to see him do well. He was my brother and I loved him. When in middle school I was in a bathroom stall while some girls were saying mean things about him and I cried. I wanted to scream out at them in defense of him. They had no idea what his life was like.
My mother fostered the alienation. She couldn't help it, she was a narcissist defending "her baby boy". One grandmother would have me for overnight visits because I was well-behaved. She did not want to have my brother or sister over, for they were not. The ultimatum from my mother: if she wouldn't have them, she wouldn't get me. So, I lost my one place of feeling cherished. That wasn't the end of it. My brother and sister were allowed to go with my father to visit his side of the family, but I wasn't. They were going to be afforded special treatment, not me. I was alienated. That side of the family, when we were all grown, would apologize to me for making fun of my mother in front of me, under some perception that I spent my childhood away from them due to a closeness to her; as if I would be offended by comical portrayals of her true charector.
In high school my brother would gang up with others who wanted to gang up on me. We would end up in physical altercations that would have been life threatening if I hadn't developed a "crazy" streak. I became the one thing that man fears in this life. My mother's accusation "Your brother is street smart, he'll get somewhere in life. You're only book smart, you won't survive" type statements only contributed to alienation. Street smart brother ended up in prison a few times. On one occasion his parole was dependent upon him going to live with my mother. He gave my mother an ultimatum: Stacey goes. So, I was homeless for the first time as teen because my brother "needed her more than me". I was going to college and working. He was having drug parties in the basement while my mom was on vacation. Still, I was heartbroken. I loved him.
As adults, my mother still favors my brother and sister because she can get in their heads and jerk them around. Family thinks it's such a pity that mommy's little girl, her devoted shadow cannot resolve her differences with her mother. As if we spent our time away from them while my brother and sister was with them doing each other's hair and nails. She was pulling my hair and slamming my head into walls, telling me how dirty and filthy I was, how I was going to grow up and be a loser. One of the biggest draws of a high control religion was the promise of "a world wide loving family of big brothers" who would love and be there for me. Oh, how I wanted a big brother who would love me!
My brother and I never speak. It's been years. Last I heard he was an alcoholic becoming physically twisted by rheumatoid arthritis living with a drug addict, still having a dysfunctional control/abuse relationship with my sister and pulling my mother's heart strings as much as she'll let him in service to her needs.
I never pitied my brother. I always felt like I was growing up in his shadow. He was successful in life in ways I wasn't. He has a place. He's in a relationship. He's close to family. He has friends who are there for him. He has people who would speak well of him. I have had none of those things.
But today is a new day. I see me. I love my brother. I understood and saw and knew what made him do what it is he would do. I've tasted his hell. And I never pitied him because I had too much respect for him. He got what he wanted every time. I never saw him as "less than". I saw him as equal: two kids growing up in pure hell who should have been the best of friends if only we were allowed the tools to have such a relationship. We are well matched and well met. We have both rocked our approaches to our circumstances in this life and somehow, in some way come out as victors of it. He became master of what we were given and I became master of shedding it. Indeed, we are well met.
My brother helped draw out of me a fearlessness of physical confrontation with men. I was never physically aggressive, but if backed into a corner, if I had to, I could physically kick the ass of men who towered over me at 6'3" with my mere 5'6". I never pitied men. I understood and felt sad for their emotional injuries, I could always empathize with them. I know it's harder for them to cross that humbling river of emotional energy but I know they've got this. They've stood up against ME and I am one intimidating little bitch from their perspective. They've never pitied me. While I may have argued differently, believing myself weak and incapable, the message consistently given me by men: you've got this. You can take care of your self.
I do believe the spell has been broken and I am free. Well worth the journey and yes! I did not choose the distraction! I went for it instead-the jumping into the darkness. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'm rockin' it!
As for my effect on the relationship between my two youngest: I do believe it's now perfect.
