Today as I thought about what I wanted to write about, I decided that all the news du jour bores me... Wienergate (wow, another politician caught with his pants down - what a surprise...) Or then there's the debt ceiling (I can barely reconcile my own finances - thinking about a bajillion dollars is like looking up at the sky on a clear night and thinking about all the galaxies out there.) Or even the Casey Anthony trial (also bores me, there are no good guys to root for - just another dysfunctional family with a soul-less daughter...)
No, I was thinking about growing up in my sister's shadow... Yes, I have a sister that is 3 years older. We shared a bedroom until she went to college and always were at odds from an early age. There are some sisters that get to be best friends. That was not us... My sister was the blue-eyed blonde that never did anything wrong. My entire life growing up I was told, "Why can't you be more like your sister!?" She was very studious, and was a rule-follower. She got to do everything first, so all I was doing was planning on doing what she was already doing. She was the guinea pig. She even got to drive at 15. In the early 70's in Texas, kids could get their driver's license at FIFTEEN, but of course they changed it shortly thereafter, so I had to wait until 16. She had the boyfriends first, the cool clothes first, dance team first, college first. I always felt second. My parents really favored her - she got the cool family name and no one ever forgot it. Me? Just the normal Baby Boomer name that no one EVER remembers. My mother told me that after my sister was born and she got pregnant with me, my dad really wanted a boy, a namesake. So when I was born, she said he wasn't even there. When he came to the hospital and saw all of my black hair, he said I just looked like all the Mexican babies and left. It's how I grew up, craving their attention and not getting it. My younger brother was born 2 1/2 years after me, so they finally got the boy they wanted. They had the perfect girl, my sister, and the perfect boy, my brother, so they sort of ignored me. My mother, sister and I used to go shopping and mother would tell me that I could get one pair of shoes, but then she bought my sister 4 or 5 pair. It was the same with clothes, with everything. They were really strict with her but when I came along 3 years later, I was given no curfew or any rules. I could do dangerous stuff; as a matter of fact, my dad only gave me 3 rules: 1.) I wasn't allowed to ride on a single engine plane (yes, I dated a guy that flew.) 2.) Don't pick up a hitchhiker and 3.) I had to make straight A's - which I did, always. I was always striving to be noticed, but even my relatives favored the siblings. Except my great grandmother Mammy, and she liked me best. We were just alike, and she "got" me. We would laugh and laugh. She was so grand and lived in the penthouse at the St. Anthony. Her love and affection were fabulous, and when she died, I cried for what seemed like forever. My father never told me he loved me, never told me I was pretty, never let me sit in his lap, never kissed me. In college after his stroke he told me if I would cut my hair, he would give me a kiss. I did and he didn't. Story of my life.... After having him as a father, I've had a hard time in trusting people. I used to liken it to climbing a tree (which I did a lot of growing up) and going out on a limb, only to be cut off.
It's taken a lifetime to forgive both of my parents, but I see now that they did the best they could with what they had. And yes, I have a damaged psyche, but God has been healing me. And really, we come into this world alone, and we leave alone. I know I have a lot of my dad's bad qualities - sarcasm, pride, and too quick to judge. But I'm working on them. I'm not perfect, just forgiven because I've asked to be. All of those experiences have made me what I am today, some bad and some good.
But being number 2 all my life has made me try all the harder...
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