Obligations

Tolstoy said that, "Happy families are all alike. Unhappy families are uniquely unhappy." I agree and also disagree with this statement. He's implying that only unhappy families are interesting because of their unhappiness--which I disagree with. I find happy families fascinating. And I also think that there are grades of unhappiness. I'm reticent to talk about my family because, well, theoretically they may read this blog at some point, but also because compared with other families, ours wasn't that bad. My parents, I've mentioned before. My siblings? Well, I don't say much...my oldest sister I'm really close to--I love her to pieces. The other two--bewilder me.

I am a twin.

Let's let that sink in for a moment--people tend to LOVE this about me, I'm not sure why, it's not like I had anything to do with it. So, way to go Mom and Dad! I'm a fraternal twin--I have a twin brother. When we were born he was 6 pounds and I was 5. He had this thick black hair and I could not have been more bald if I was a bowling ball.

People inevitably ask, "Are you close?" That question is much more complicated than anyone who asks it realizes. It takes in to account all that has past, all that is happening (and in our case all that is NOT happening) and all that may happen. It's rather a distressing question as well since I cannot possibly be the only person accountable for the state of our current relationship.

Anyway, the answer to that question is both yes and no. We were very close growing up. There was no one I loved better on Earth than my brother. And even through school, he was funny and popular and sporty and I was...well, I was a dork. I made good grades, but was terrible at sports and I was never ever popular. But I was proud of him because he was, he was handsome and funny and people LOVED him. It was impressive.

Then stuff happened. We grew up. I managed to shape myself into my own version of cool--i.e. reasonably intelligent and well educated, wry sense of humor. And he...he went to school in fits and starts, never really settling into any one field. He got married. He had kids. He joined the Army. And in the Army he remains. I said some very unfortunate things about his wife that would have been better left unsaid. He said some unfortunate things TO me ABOUT me. The whole thing became this brouhaha in the family and I was cast off by the siblings.

It's okay. It sounds a lot worse than it was. My parents understood that young people say things impetuously that they shouldn't say so they refused to take sides. And really, looking back, those two years while everyone ignored me and pretended I did not exist--they were some of the best years of my life. It gave me the time and space to grow in to the person that I am today.

The reason I bring this up is that the Brother is coming. He and his wife and kids are moving from Texas to Maryland (he's being re-stationed) and they are stopping over this weekend for a family get together. ugh.

I'm not angry anymore. I don't hold anything against him, or anyone for that matter--I'm not a grudge holder. It's too much energy, holding grudges. Honestly? I'm exhausted and my stomach is twisted in knots. I get a whole Sunday of walking on eggshells and pretending to be...what I once was, I suppose. It's just not how I would choose to spend my time.

I'm sorry. I realize this is of no interest to any of you--that many of you, in fact, come from homes and families where serious abuse figured in to the equation and that me whining about my brother is not really anything but a pithy post. But it is foremost on my mind right now, and foremost on my list of things I'd really rather not do (like Bartleby).

Maybe Scarlet was on to something. Maybe I just won't think about this now, I'll think about this tomorrow and then put it off one day, and one day more and then at the absolute last minute when I MUST think about it...I will.