Beach-Girl
Well known member
Good Morning:
I thought I would start the first written blog - just to get the ball rolling. My progress has been slow and hopefully by writing here, it will help to get things moving - well they are moving, my neck hurts mostly instead of my back now. Of course my back hurts too at night so I'm a spread out TMS mess at the moment.
Today is my brother's birthday. He is younger than me, but experienced a lot of the same as I did growing up. But we're so very different. I am the elder by exactly 2 1/2 years to the day. Great family planning! So today would be my half birthday. Yay me.
Being the eldest and none too dumb, I took over the roll of parent at age 10. Told my brother I would take care of him when my parents suddenly split up. And I do mean suddenly. No fighting. No harsh words in front of us. Just love fun filled days. My dad was a pilot and we had our own plane. We used to travel often to BC just for lunch. We went to Disneyland, the mid-west, everywhere, the four of us in our plane.
My parents loved to sing together too. And would wake my brother in the middle of the night (alcohol may have been involved here) to learn a new song they had written. We were taught to sing harmony to their tunes. We were encouraged to sing at the dinner table. It was an oddly ideal childhood. Plenty of money for what we wanted but we were never taught money was a big deal or that we even had money. It was just the way our lives went. My father was on the way upward in his law firm. One of the best attorneys to practice law in the state. Not my words, but those of a famous retired Oregon judge who lived in our town.
Anyway - back to the divorce. They suddenly announced they were splitting. And boy were we confused! I had my version of what would happen and my brother had another. I knew that my dad who I loved so much - was gone. Out the door. My brother expected he'd return.
We grew up very differently and now my brother is very successful. But somewhere along the line he got his wires really rewired. My anger at him for some of his actions is really "hot." But instead of confronting him, I've been writing about it. And on the phone today, I was slightly more "hostile" with our typical sibling banter as I wished him Happy Birthday.
I love my brother very much. We grew up very close, and the closeness serves him now - he calls when he has to talk on end about something. But it's not a two way street. Here we are, smack dab in middle age and my brother still treats me like I'm mom. Gotta smile. Gotta still send him love instead of all this anger. That will resolve with pen to paper or with my therapist. He is living the life he needs. He's living the life he chose as am I.
My cousin says we were "feral children". That we raised ourselves while our parents tried to figure it out. She's right. We had one or two of those parents who cared, tried, but eventually would leave us out since they were busy getting on with their new lives.
Feral children. My brother needs to be trapped and domesticated.
And so my story begins, this I felt like writing here today. In my writing I'm finding so many things that are contributing to my TMS. They are deep in the past but I'm telling people about this or that injustice. Fun for them when out of the blue I start talking about something that happened eons ago.
I'm a real pain in the neck.
BG
I thought I would start the first written blog - just to get the ball rolling. My progress has been slow and hopefully by writing here, it will help to get things moving - well they are moving, my neck hurts mostly instead of my back now. Of course my back hurts too at night so I'm a spread out TMS mess at the moment.
Today is my brother's birthday. He is younger than me, but experienced a lot of the same as I did growing up. But we're so very different. I am the elder by exactly 2 1/2 years to the day. Great family planning! So today would be my half birthday. Yay me.
Being the eldest and none too dumb, I took over the roll of parent at age 10. Told my brother I would take care of him when my parents suddenly split up. And I do mean suddenly. No fighting. No harsh words in front of us. Just love fun filled days. My dad was a pilot and we had our own plane. We used to travel often to BC just for lunch. We went to Disneyland, the mid-west, everywhere, the four of us in our plane.
My parents loved to sing together too. And would wake my brother in the middle of the night (alcohol may have been involved here) to learn a new song they had written. We were taught to sing harmony to their tunes. We were encouraged to sing at the dinner table. It was an oddly ideal childhood. Plenty of money for what we wanted but we were never taught money was a big deal or that we even had money. It was just the way our lives went. My father was on the way upward in his law firm. One of the best attorneys to practice law in the state. Not my words, but those of a famous retired Oregon judge who lived in our town.
Anyway - back to the divorce. They suddenly announced they were splitting. And boy were we confused! I had my version of what would happen and my brother had another. I knew that my dad who I loved so much - was gone. Out the door. My brother expected he'd return.
We grew up very differently and now my brother is very successful. But somewhere along the line he got his wires really rewired. My anger at him for some of his actions is really "hot." But instead of confronting him, I've been writing about it. And on the phone today, I was slightly more "hostile" with our typical sibling banter as I wished him Happy Birthday.
I love my brother very much. We grew up very close, and the closeness serves him now - he calls when he has to talk on end about something. But it's not a two way street. Here we are, smack dab in middle age and my brother still treats me like I'm mom. Gotta smile. Gotta still send him love instead of all this anger. That will resolve with pen to paper or with my therapist. He is living the life he needs. He's living the life he chose as am I.
My cousin says we were "feral children". That we raised ourselves while our parents tried to figure it out. She's right. We had one or two of those parents who cared, tried, but eventually would leave us out since they were busy getting on with their new lives.
Feral children. My brother needs to be trapped and domesticated.
And so my story begins, this I felt like writing here today. In my writing I'm finding so many things that are contributing to my TMS. They are deep in the past but I'm telling people about this or that injustice. Fun for them when out of the blue I start talking about something that happened eons ago.
I'm a real pain in the neck.
BG