I attended a family event yesterday. My sister had a joint celebration for myself having had a recent birthday, along with my niece, who just turned 16, and my nephew, who had a recent birthday, also.
It was great to have everyone together, as we don’t do it as often as we used to. Even my daughter was in attendance as my sister made sure to have us all together on my weekend, which I loved that she did, but while with my family, I couldn’t help but feel like the black sheep amongst them all.
It’s not anything they did, but when we are all together as a group, I totally feel out of place and like I don’t belong. When I am in the company of my siblings, individually, everything is fine. But watching them all together, I definitely feel in their shadow.
As the day/night progressed and conversations occurred, I spent time listening, and it blows my mind how they all view our childhood in a completely different way than I did. I was hearing things that happened that I honestly cannot remember even taking place. I’m not sure if I have completely blocked out parts of my childhood or if I was even there at the time these events happened. I kept getting asked, “Do you remember when…?” and my response was a sheepish laugh followed by a “no,” because I didn’t.
When memories become an issue
It turned into the joke of the night at how bad they all said my memory was, and even though I am aware I do have some memory issues with certain things, it frustrated me that there seem to be large pockets of events that I am not privy to because I have no recollection. At all.
It’s a little alarming, if I am honest.
It’s not just about the things I can’t remember, but things I do remember but can’t talk about with them.
Robert Bly’s image of the big bag we drag behind us sits in my mind as I write this. How we spend the first half of our lives putting everything into a bag and the second half pulling it out. I certainly have been pulling everything out of mine the last few years, that’s for sure, but there are things I can’t even share with my siblings because of how I feel like the black sheep.
I have had some conversations with my sister about my child abuse, but as quickly as they are brought up, they just as quickly get swept under the rug as if saying them out loud will cause unending damage. And I wonder what exactly she thinks could possibly happen that hasn’t already, for me, in the emotional sense? I actually think it’s more for her comfort levels than mine. At least that’s the impression I get.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my family a great deal, and I know if I needed any help, they would drop everything to do so, and vice versa. But even with that, there is still a disconnect with them, and I really hate that there is.
I guess, I will just have to accept that I am the black sheep in my family. After all, it’s something I have been dealing with for the last 5 decades.