Little Sisters & Brothers

I awoke this morning in a peaceful state of mind with an open and grateful heart for how safe, tranquil and abundant my life has finally become.

As I sipped my tea and ate my raspberry jammed toast I enjoyed the warmth of my snuggly dressing gown and pink fairy floss coloured, fluffy diamante adorned slippers, as I propped my feet up on the coffee table.  I was watching the morning news and the headline story about Fergie on secret camera footage selling her self respect, and access Prince Andrew for cold hard cash.   I felt for her and the desperation and shame she must be feeling as this story breaks around the world today. 

But what took my hearts attention more, was some old news footage that was shown as this story aired, of Fergie years ago when she was still married to Andrew.   Their daughters were just little toddlers so it was quite some time ago.  Eugenie and Beatrice were perhaps aged between 3 and 5, dressed up in their best party frocks one holding each of Fergies hands as they were being led past a frenzy of paparazzi.  My eyes were drawn to the littlest sister who was in a state of bewilderment and it showed in her awkwardness.  The older sister was smiling for the cameras and held her stride with confidence.  The youngest one was stumbling like a deer caught in headlights.  She was unsure and a little clumsy in her demeanor.  I saw myself, as I remembered photos of me as a little girl like this next to my big sister.  My hair was always messy, my undies showing and one of my frilly socks would have fallen down.  I could never quite pull of that "I've got my shit together look."  It is probably one of the reasons why I make so much effort today with my grooming.  I was known as a clumsy, (not real bright) scatterbrain as little girl.

I am and always will be a little sister, but today I am also a grown woman nonetheless, about to turn 48 years of age.   I'm now married to a man who is a first born child, for the first time in my life.  My first husband was a second born like myself, and my second husband was the baby of his family, a third born.  These two previous husbands were far easier for me to manage emotionally, and that was probably one of the biggest problems within my previous marriages, I was able to manage them.  It was not good for me nor them ... long term.   I left them both knowing we were not an emotional match after the relationship hit the five year mark (the first marriage I stayed for another 4 years, the second I stayed for only 2 years after the five year point when I knew I could not go the distance).  I was never confident enough to choose a first born male to marry until I reached age 42.  First born men always seemed too powerful and their sense of entitlement too strong and deeply entrenched for me.  I was attracted to them, but they also frightened me, and quite frankly I felt I was lacking in some way on some level and that I would not measure up for a first born or ever be good enough.

Well actually as I reflect, as I type to you this morning, I recall that I had chosen a first born male years ago, as one of my first serious boyfriends when I was around 18.  He was a rugby player, a Wallaby, that represented Australia internationally.  He was a physically intimidating and a powerful gladiator of a man, who seemed to have a sense of smoldering anger about him.  He was someone not to upset, one only had to see him on a rugby field to get that point, he looked and was volcanic and scared many people, but I was drawn to that very element of him.  He reminded me of my late father (rest his soul).  My father was a violently angry man, and a second born, middle child of three, like myself.  He was abandoned by his mother as a young boy and left with an alcoholic father to bring up his younger brother.  His mother took the first born child, his older sister, and left my dad and his little brother with a drunken, unpredictable father.

At the ripe old age of 18 most of my choices were alcoholically fuelled and I was naïve and wreck less, and into emotional self harm, as I felt I deserved it then.  I was attracted to the emotional danger this older footballer oozed.  This guy was almost mono syllabic and spoke to me rarely.  I was emotionally disconnected at this stage in my life, so he suited me just fine; we had a lot of good sex and good fun instead of conversation.  But he dumped me for a woman who was ten years older than I, whilst he was on a rugby tour, and I was devastated.  From then on I never got serious with a first born male.  In all my wisdom at age 18 I decided that first borns were choosers who held all the power, and for some reason I had been lacking and not measured up for him.  It confirmed for me, after his rejection, that siblings like me born after a first born, must follow and obey them or else be dumped!  My dysfunctional conclusion in all my wisdom was that us little sisters and brothers had to settle for hand me downs and second bests in life on all levels, that was the only position left, like it or lump it first borns had the throne of hero child.   I was not allowed to hang with first borns; I would not be tolerated long term.   Perhaps I subconsciously inherited my father's wound believing first borns were the chosen ones that parents preferred.

Much of my focus in building my own Emotional Fitness over the years has involved remembering, then honouring, the fact that I am equal no better than nor less than any other human being.  I am entitled to a wonderful life as we all are.  You first borns might be reading this saying to yourself ...."Da?? That's not rocket science!" Intellectually I have always known this, but not felt it in my heart.  That's is how therapy has helped me over the years, the process has gently identified then gradually removed the destructive programming I took to heart.  I needed to embrace the reality that even though others may have different gifts and birth placement than I, that I am not a second class citizen.  It has taken years for me to actually believe this, I am sad to say, but happy to report, I now actually do believe it, and honour it, better late than never if you ask me!

It has been one of my unwavering parenting rules as a mother of two sons 21 months apart.  That they are both equals and will be treated as such.   My first born son has never wanted to be put before his brother, and my second born son has only ever wanted the warmth of the companionship of his big brother and this has been such a privilege to witness as they have grown.  Neither of them will allow the other to be put down in their presence by anyone else.  They often get the shits with each other and criticise each other, but only they allow that of each other, no-one else is allowed to do this, not me nor their father.  I have always respected this loyalty they have had to each other since they were babies.

I recall before my father suddenly died just over 21 years ago, he came to visit my home.  I was a newlywed in my early twenties and still terrified of him.  As a grown woman even when he stayed in my home with me and my first husband, anytime he raised his hand to scratch his head, I still ducked and cowered expecting to be hit across the head.  During one particular visit I remember passing him in my hallway, we had both been drinking heavily; Chivas Regal Whisky was our poison.  I recall he would bring Chivas and Chanel No. 5 and call it his "board" when he came to stay with me which was rare.  Actually he only did it once.  He stayed mostly with my older sister by choice.

We came face to face in the hallway and I don't recall why we both stopped and just looked at each other, but we did.  I don't understand why he said this to me, but I will never forget it ... he said...

"You just have to accept you are not my first born, and I will never love you the way I love your sister.  A parent never loves another child like they love their first born, and you will know what I mean one day.  We don't get along, I tolerate you, I always have, we both know it, and that is just the way it is."

Admitting this as I type brings tears to my eyes still today.  His words hit my heart like a steel wrecking ball knocks over a building.  I felt devastated and speechless.  Maybe I reminded him of him, just because of my birth order in the family, or maybe he just didn't like me, who knows.  I made a vow to myself there and then that this style of parenting stopped with him and me.  There would be no favourites, no ganging up, no hero, no chosen child that gets parental preference, no scapegoat children amongst any offspring I was blessed to parent.

One of the most wonderful gifts I was given this Mothers Day was a message from a woman I have never met, given to Beautiful Barb (my heart mother).  This woman who was speaking to my youngest son shared with Barb how deeply touched she was when she heard my child speak of his older brother.  She marveled at the love he unashamedly spoke about, and the adoration he has for his older brother.  My boys now young men aged 21 and 23 live together and play in a band together.  She said to Barb that she wished that her own sons were as close as my boys.  I heard that on the morning of Mothers Day and my heart felt deeply grateful that I had been able to encourage my boys to embrace each other as equals and lifelong companions, not competitors.  I had broken the cycle of generations before me where emotionally disconnected siblings lived a life at war with each other.

Over the past six years of living and loving with my third husband, who is a first born, also known in my blogs as Mr. Delicious, much healing has taken place in my heart.  I have passed the five year mark with him now, and never before been so committed, in love, interested and felt more blessed to be loved like he loves me at this point in a relationship with any man.  He is an extremely confident, intelligent and attractive man with a very strong sense of entitlement.  He is very efficient at ensuring his needs are clearly understood and met on every level.  I have learned a great deal from watching him socially, and listening to him just say no to me when my requests, demands or tantrums just don't make sense to him.  He also says yes more to me than any man in my past ever has. He offers unwavering support with my parenting, recovery and career, and comforts me at the most unlikely times when in the past, I have never expected a man would step up for me and stand by my side.  He can disagree with me without emotionally abandoning me nor disrespecting me. 

Who knew?

I am now a little sister who has matured and can hold her own with a big first born brother for the first time.   I feel proud and able to speak my truth without fear of being told to shut up and step back.  The "Who do you think you are's" don't haunt me anymore.

I watched my boys play at a gig yesterday afternoon, and could not wipe the smile off of my face.  They don't just play music; they play with each other, respect each other and have fun as they perform.  It is contagious for those watching.  My youngest son is the lead singer and guitarist who ensures his big brother who sits behind all the other band members as the drummer, is not forgotten.  He teases and talks to him all throughout the set; they are partners, equal and respectful beautiful brothers.  My youngest son was also interviewed on radio as a spokesperson for their band earlier last week and throughout the hour and half interview he ensured he spoke of his big brother within the interview who was busy at work away from the limelight once again.

My husband Mr. Delicious also has a younger brother who is born the same year as me.   This relationship also over the years has been a gift as he has offered me much insight into the world of brothers.  It is so educational for me to hear stories from my husband about brothers as they grow and age, as I learn about the beauty of brotherhood love and the wonderful bond some sibling's experience. 

In emotionally fragmented, violent and damaged homes bonds between siblings are often broken.  It sometimes happens that siblings are set up to take sides with warring parents and closeness never builds between them as each child gangs up on the other for emotional survival.  For these children as they grow and become parents learning what not to do when they have their own children is a valuable lesson.   These disconnected siblings may not be able to repair the damage done with their own siblings, but they can become catalysts for future change in future generations.

Another thing my late father said to me before he died, and again I don't know his reason or what prompted him to say it, but he looked into me and said.

"Cindy, you are a catalyst" and he meant it with great conviction.  At the time I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an insult, only he knows.

I didn't really even know what a catalyst was back then. But now I do, and I have become one, for my children and hopefully any children they may have. ...and for that I am proud.

As I write about my late father, I write with love and gratitude for his time as my father.  Yes he was a violent and an emotionally damaged man, but I loved him with all my heart, and I always will.  He taught me so many powerful lessons and even though at times he was a rampaging scary bull of a man, I still remember the beauty in his traumatized heart.  I remember the wonderful drawings he would draw, the poetry he would write on toilet paper scrolls and the warmth of his hands on my skin when he was truly sorry for the abuse and violence he had inflicted upon me, but he could not say the words.

For anyone reading this today who has an absent parent who was perhaps emotionally illiterate ... or for anyone who is a first born who feels over responsible, or a little sister and brother who grew up believing they were second best you are not alone. Sibling rivalry, confusion, disconnection, pain and over responsibility often needs untangling as we age.  To find and then take our rightful place in the world no matter where we were placed in the birth order takes time.   Our birthright to feel worthy, equal and entitled to a wonderful life cannot be given to us by parents nor siblings.  We must give it to ourselves.  We must earn our own self respect first and foremost.  If others then respect who we have become along the way, well and good.  If they don't it won't matter as long as we don't abandon ourselves. I honestly believe we attract what we believe we deserve and feel worthy of.

It has taken over 14 years of clean living without drugs and alcohol, years of therapy and painful soul searching to finally relax and grow into who I am.  To discover that the little sister in me, that little awkward and bewildered dimension of myself that I saw reflected in Fergies youngest daughter this morning, is and always was as important as her bigger more confident sister.  To embrace tenderly and affectionately these days the little sister's often bewildered place in the world not being one of a burden is such a relief.  Little Miss Cymfia (as a dear colleague calls the fairy child within me) will always be a little sister in this world and I am now glad that is the case.  I have found my place is equal to any other place.  Being given the confidence to eventually choose a generous first born for a husband has helped me debunk the first born is more important myth in my own heart once and for all.  He has moved over and insisted that I take my place in the world on my own throne, next to him, not in front of him dominating nor behind him being submissive, but partnering him.  It has been and I pray continues to be, a privilege and a blessing to experience this for the remainder of my days.

Birthing our self respect is not always a graceful rite of passage, but nonetheless is a part of our character building as we age.   I have finally at mid life, earned my place with the first borns of the world and that makes me smile.   Feeling equal and worthy is a birthright for us all and an available option if we are willing to work for it, surrender our fear fuelled egos and earn it for ourselves.  I would like to leave you with these Word Vitamins from Gerald Brenan today and thank you so much for sharing your time with me and my words.

"Age takes away from us what we have inherited and gives us what we have earned"