July 9th, 2009; 12:04 AM
I had an older cousin Becky. She was about a year older than me. Our grandparents were very fortunate to have us both and loved us dearly. Having two babies in the family brought a lot of joy to their lives and for a while our family was close.
Our parents were different types of people. My mom was the quintessential good girl. She went to Catholic school, and then worked at a bank and payed her way through school. She was a journalism student in the 70's. She went to finishing school, and spent an inordinate ammount of time picking out just the right outfit, and having her hair done...that is when she wasn't studying, working or dancing. She lived in the hilly city by the bay, San Francisco. -And even though she had to walk up and down those hills every day, she still wore high-heels! Basically my mom was perfect. She exemplified an unattainable perfection that I will never live up to. People loved her. She was beautiful, fun, smart, and nice. She was one of those popular girls who was popular not because everybody was afraid of her or felt in some way "not worthy"...but because she made people feel good about themselves...they felt special, and cool around her. She could make eye contact with a person and flash her smile and sparks would fly. For that moment, that person would feel as if they were the most important and wonderful person in the world. She could inspire love. Did I mention she was beautiful? She even dated a Persian prince.
Anyhow...Growing up, I always felt very loved by my mother, and her parents. But as far back as I can remember, there was always a strange and uncomfortable distance between me and my Uncle Bob. I have always felt that he did not like me. Whenever he would come around as a young child, I would try to hang out and be a part of the group. But he comes from a different era and mentality. The message was always something along the lines of "children should be seen and not heard." And then when I became older...old enough to sit at the grown ups table..it became "respect your elders."...and then when I was old enough to be on equal footing as an adult, there were undercuts about women and college, and more specifically about how college was wasted on me. It hurt. I was expected to always bite my tongue and defer to my Uncle. No matter what the situation was, or how I felt about the matter. He was the first born son. The elder. And a man. He held the position of power, authority, and value in our family. And to him, I was just a useless, whiny pup. A child. Worse, a girl. I was expected to act as a silent and obedient child and swallow my words, my tears, and any hurt feelings that I may have. As an adult, I finally had it out with my Uncle one day. He told me a story about how he used to spank me as a baby to potty train me. He would put Becky on the potty, and she would go on command. And then he would put me on the potty, and I wouldn't go to the bathroom, so he would spank me and put me on the potty again, and I still wouldn't go to the bathroom. To him this was an act of defiance, and proof that I always pretty much a jerk and a brat. He didn't take into account things like the fact that my cousin was almost a year older than me...hence she would have more practice at this whole potty training business! Or that well...um...it might be hard to pee on command, especially if I was afraid that I was going to get hit. Anyhow. I think that this initial experience had very lasting effects on our relationship. He has always thought that I was stubborn and spoiled. And I have always felt that he never liked me and didn't respect me. (Which is true. IMO) There are most likely other things at play here too, which add to the strange and strained family dynamic. My mom was adopted, and yet loved as dearly as my Uncle. I had a very close relationship with my Grandparents to the extent that I always had a room at their house, even when I lived in Colorado, and they lived in California. I had other cousins who lived closer to my grandparents at the time. So I think there might have been some jealousy there and resentment over favoritism. There were also struggles from just being different. My mother and her brother were very different types of people. They loved eachother very much, but still, their different philosophies on the world only expanded the gap in the product of their child rearing. I am very different than how my cousin Becky is. We see the world differently. Have different ideas of what it means to be responsible, and to be a good and loving daughter. We also have very different ways of handeling differences. So much of this has come to a head since my mothers illness. I have become much less tolerant of BS. I don't have the energy or resources to take much anymore. I love my family though. My Cousin is mad at me for so many things. Primarily because she blames me for her father not seeing my mother. How this came to be was a culmination of things though. My mom got sick, and I had a series of interactions with my Uncle that left me feeling really wounded, protective of my mother, and also angry at his insensitivity. He was very critical of me. And even of her at times. He would say things like "Vivian was always a klutz." -This is when my mom was learning to walk again in physical rehab. Or there was the time that my other Uncle told my Uncle Bob about my mom's neurosurgery (against my wishes, and our specific agreement that he would not do so.) I had told my Uncle Courtney that I would let my Uncle Bob know, as soon as I had more information to give him, but that at this point, I just wanted to protect my mom, and that she really needed to only be around those who were consistently and reliably supportive and kind. The neurosurgeon also requested that she NOT have visitors beyond me. He stressed how important it was for my mother to just rest and be quiet. To put it in perspective, this was a time, when even sunlight hurt her eyes. And she was moaning not speaking. Her Doctors wanted me to be prepared for the very real possiblity that my mom might not make it through the surgery. I had no room at that time for people like my unlce who was so hurtful to me more than he was kind. He brought a woman that my mother never liked when she was well to her bedside after neurosurgery. She was inconsiderate enough to go on and on about how my mother looked like she was on her deathbed, right there, where my mom could hear her...and to me, her only child, who was seriously struggling with the pain and fear of losing my mom. All I can say is: I was not a fan. And my Uncle did not win cool points with me for bringing her and agreeing with her. I will never again let something like that go down. At the time I was younger, and still more in the groove of being respectful to my elders, even if my elders didn't have any sense or consideration. Now I refuse. But I am still so torn. I want to have a close family. I want to speak with my cousin again and have her be a part of our lives. I yearn to see and know the kind and loveable side of my Uncle Bob. I know that this is in him. He couldn't be my grandparents only born child and not have this in him. They were wonderful people, who knew how to love and nourish better than most, so I am sure that my Uncle must have some part of them in him. My Cousin Henry basically told me to let it go. That it was probably not going to happen with Beck. That hurt. It's probably true. But it makes me feel more alone in this world. I have my mom, who is slowly fading. She's like a dying star. And then I have my Cousin Hank. Who I love very much and who also loves me. And then I have some distant relatives in Colorado, a cousin in Texas, and an Uncle in Illinois. None of which I have seen in the last 5 years or so. That's it for my mothers side of the family. The side that I am supposed to be closest to, and was raised with. I luckily have relatives on my Fathers side that I am close with. But not many. It leaves me feeling very much alone in this world. And yearning for the warm feelings of Thanksgivings and Christmasses of my childhood. If you had asked me as a child if I could ever imagine this outcome, I would have said no.
There is something wonderful about the unexpected though. I also know...that in 10 years, I will once again have an unexpected outcome. Let us hope that this time around the results are unexpectedly wonderful.
Current mood:
blustery
When I was a baby, I was not the only baby around in my family. blustery
I had an older cousin Becky. She was about a year older than me. Our grandparents were very fortunate to have us both and loved us dearly. Having two babies in the family brought a lot of joy to their lives and for a while our family was close.
Our parents were different types of people. My mom was the quintessential good girl. She went to Catholic school, and then worked at a bank and payed her way through school. She was a journalism student in the 70's. She went to finishing school, and spent an inordinate ammount of time picking out just the right outfit, and having her hair done...that is when she wasn't studying, working or dancing. She lived in the hilly city by the bay, San Francisco. -And even though she had to walk up and down those hills every day, she still wore high-heels! Basically my mom was perfect. She exemplified an unattainable perfection that I will never live up to. People loved her. She was beautiful, fun, smart, and nice. She was one of those popular girls who was popular not because everybody was afraid of her or felt in some way "not worthy"...but because she made people feel good about themselves...they felt special, and cool around her. She could make eye contact with a person and flash her smile and sparks would fly. For that moment, that person would feel as if they were the most important and wonderful person in the world. She could inspire love. Did I mention she was beautiful? She even dated a Persian prince.
Anyhow...Growing up, I always felt very loved by my mother, and her parents. But as far back as I can remember, there was always a strange and uncomfortable distance between me and my Uncle Bob. I have always felt that he did not like me. Whenever he would come around as a young child, I would try to hang out and be a part of the group. But he comes from a different era and mentality. The message was always something along the lines of "children should be seen and not heard." And then when I became older...old enough to sit at the grown ups table..it became "respect your elders."...and then when I was old enough to be on equal footing as an adult, there were undercuts about women and college, and more specifically about how college was wasted on me. It hurt. I was expected to always bite my tongue and defer to my Uncle. No matter what the situation was, or how I felt about the matter. He was the first born son. The elder. And a man. He held the position of power, authority, and value in our family. And to him, I was just a useless, whiny pup. A child. Worse, a girl. I was expected to act as a silent and obedient child and swallow my words, my tears, and any hurt feelings that I may have. As an adult, I finally had it out with my Uncle one day. He told me a story about how he used to spank me as a baby to potty train me. He would put Becky on the potty, and she would go on command. And then he would put me on the potty, and I wouldn't go to the bathroom, so he would spank me and put me on the potty again, and I still wouldn't go to the bathroom. To him this was an act of defiance, and proof that I always pretty much a jerk and a brat. He didn't take into account things like the fact that my cousin was almost a year older than me...hence she would have more practice at this whole potty training business! Or that well...um...it might be hard to pee on command, especially if I was afraid that I was going to get hit. Anyhow. I think that this initial experience had very lasting effects on our relationship. He has always thought that I was stubborn and spoiled. And I have always felt that he never liked me and didn't respect me. (Which is true. IMO) There are most likely other things at play here too, which add to the strange and strained family dynamic. My mom was adopted, and yet loved as dearly as my Uncle. I had a very close relationship with my Grandparents to the extent that I always had a room at their house, even when I lived in Colorado, and they lived in California. I had other cousins who lived closer to my grandparents at the time. So I think there might have been some jealousy there and resentment over favoritism. There were also struggles from just being different. My mother and her brother were very different types of people. They loved eachother very much, but still, their different philosophies on the world only expanded the gap in the product of their child rearing. I am very different than how my cousin Becky is. We see the world differently. Have different ideas of what it means to be responsible, and to be a good and loving daughter. We also have very different ways of handeling differences. So much of this has come to a head since my mothers illness. I have become much less tolerant of BS. I don't have the energy or resources to take much anymore. I love my family though. My Cousin is mad at me for so many things. Primarily because she blames me for her father not seeing my mother. How this came to be was a culmination of things though. My mom got sick, and I had a series of interactions with my Uncle that left me feeling really wounded, protective of my mother, and also angry at his insensitivity. He was very critical of me. And even of her at times. He would say things like "Vivian was always a klutz." -This is when my mom was learning to walk again in physical rehab. Or there was the time that my other Uncle told my Uncle Bob about my mom's neurosurgery (against my wishes, and our specific agreement that he would not do so.) I had told my Uncle Courtney that I would let my Uncle Bob know, as soon as I had more information to give him, but that at this point, I just wanted to protect my mom, and that she really needed to only be around those who were consistently and reliably supportive and kind. The neurosurgeon also requested that she NOT have visitors beyond me. He stressed how important it was for my mother to just rest and be quiet. To put it in perspective, this was a time, when even sunlight hurt her eyes. And she was moaning not speaking. Her Doctors wanted me to be prepared for the very real possiblity that my mom might not make it through the surgery. I had no room at that time for people like my unlce who was so hurtful to me more than he was kind. He brought a woman that my mother never liked when she was well to her bedside after neurosurgery. She was inconsiderate enough to go on and on about how my mother looked like she was on her deathbed, right there, where my mom could hear her...and to me, her only child, who was seriously struggling with the pain and fear of losing my mom. All I can say is: I was not a fan. And my Uncle did not win cool points with me for bringing her and agreeing with her. I will never again let something like that go down. At the time I was younger, and still more in the groove of being respectful to my elders, even if my elders didn't have any sense or consideration. Now I refuse. But I am still so torn. I want to have a close family. I want to speak with my cousin again and have her be a part of our lives. I yearn to see and know the kind and loveable side of my Uncle Bob. I know that this is in him. He couldn't be my grandparents only born child and not have this in him. They were wonderful people, who knew how to love and nourish better than most, so I am sure that my Uncle must have some part of them in him. My Cousin Henry basically told me to let it go. That it was probably not going to happen with Beck. That hurt. It's probably true. But it makes me feel more alone in this world. I have my mom, who is slowly fading. She's like a dying star. And then I have my Cousin Hank. Who I love very much and who also loves me. And then I have some distant relatives in Colorado, a cousin in Texas, and an Uncle in Illinois. None of which I have seen in the last 5 years or so. That's it for my mothers side of the family. The side that I am supposed to be closest to, and was raised with. I luckily have relatives on my Fathers side that I am close with. But not many. It leaves me feeling very much alone in this world. And yearning for the warm feelings of Thanksgivings and Christmasses of my childhood. If you had asked me as a child if I could ever imagine this outcome, I would have said no.
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