On September 17th I met my 20 year-old brother, for the first time.
He is a sophomore at Clemson. The call was a pivotal moment for me, I felt such intense love for this complete stranger, a young-adult I once new and share DNA with. He was so mature, asked me thoughtful questions and seemed genuinely interested in learning about his half-sister he knows so little living on the west coast. My heart literally felt like it was going to burst, hearing this human's excited voice on the other line, asking how my business was, what I did for fun, where I lived... I had no idea he would even care, or have been interested in knowing me. Talking for almost an hour and a half, into the middle of the night for him, I felt an immense connection to this virtual stranger thousands of miles away.
The last time (before this) that I spoke to Jackson was about 8 years ago at a family reunion. He's lived in another state since the summer I turned 17. My dad and his wife decided to move to Minnesota that summer to live closer to her large, mid-western family.
She was pregnant with their third child at the time, and Jackson was five.
While visiting I would try to hold him, or play with him, and moments later some excuse like 'bath time' would come up and he would be taken from my arms. I remember one time during a dinner party, he needed his diaper changed and I took it upon myself to do it. K was livid.
She didn't want me touching him. (She didn't want me around, at all.)
He is a sophomore at Clemson. The call was a pivotal moment for me, I felt such intense love for this complete stranger, a young-adult I once new and share DNA with. He was so mature, asked me thoughtful questions and seemed genuinely interested in learning about his half-sister he knows so little living on the west coast. My heart literally felt like it was going to burst, hearing this human's excited voice on the other line, asking how my business was, what I did for fun, where I lived... I had no idea he would even care, or have been interested in knowing me. Talking for almost an hour and a half, into the middle of the night for him, I felt an immense connection to this virtual stranger thousands of miles away.
The last time (before this) that I spoke to Jackson was about 8 years ago at a family reunion. He's lived in another state since the summer I turned 17. My dad and his wife decided to move to Minnesota that summer to live closer to her large, mid-western family.
She was pregnant with their third child at the time, and Jackson was five.
In high school I carried the copies of pictures of Jackson as a baby and toddler that I managed to recover from the doubles in their family photo album, sliding them into the clear sleeve of my binder. I loved that child.
I wanted nothing more than to have siblings and a lifelong, forever connection like that.
But from the moment he was born, things changed dramatically in that household.
I wanted nothing more than to have siblings and a lifelong, forever connection like that.
But from the moment he was born, things changed dramatically in that household.
While visiting I would try to hold him, or play with him, and moments later some excuse like 'bath time' would come up and he would be taken from my arms. I remember one time during a dinner party, he needed his diaper changed and I took it upon myself to do it. K was livid.
She didn't want me touching him. (She didn't want me around, at all.)
I'll never truly understand how a woman in her thirties can be threatened by an 11- or 12-year-old. Now that I'm in my thirties, I cannot fathom treating a child the way she treated me. I'd like to leave the memories in the past where they belong, but I know they've had a monumental part in shaping the person that I am today. This is where 'the work' comes in. I know I've developed thick walls to protect myself from people hurting me. I know energetically this prevents me from having connections at times with people because I am guarded, which in turn can come off as uninterested or even cold.
I'm actually a swirling ball of emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve. It's a miracle I am able to even work in sales, seeing as I am so sensitive to the actions of others. I've had to learn to not take things personally (still completely, fallibly working on that.)
Today I went to the mountain for a snowy hike with a new friend and our dogs. Over the goofy antics of the dogs frolicking and freaking out in the snow, we tromped down the path to a frozen Trillium Lake. It was a nice change in scenery for my typical Sunday.
On the way home we stopped at a Taco Shoppe in Government Camp to wait out the apres-weekend-warrior traffic shitshow. He asked me alarmingly personal and insightful questions and poked at my vulnerability. (Which made me increasingly uncomfortable.) I answered the deeper philosophical questions, positing my two-cents about what it means to be human, and squirmed when he tried to get me to put my hand on his to test the heart-communication theory. I didn't want my heart to say anything that wasn't ready to come out of my mouth.
After getting home, I was already feeling weird inside. I called me mom on the way to run a final errand and was soon crying over an hour long talk with her, explaining that I wasn't sure if I was upset because I was disappointed that I wasn't immediately in love/lust with this person, felt like my ego was being over-reflected back at me, and I didn't like what I saw, or am just disillusioned and worn out with the idea of dating and trying to find this person that's supposed to match you and bring out the best in you...
to no avail...
I am hesitant to let someone see my inner world and know how terrified I am of being hurt again in a relationship. I question whether I will even be able to love someone with the same intensity and feeling as I did M. I'm afraid I'll never even feel that way about someone ever again. He was so close to everything I wanted to find in another person. And the timing was all fucked up. And I made mistakes. And so did he. And then he moved on right away, and I... am still a work in progress.
I just finished writing my dad a letter tonight that I've been percolating on for months. It's super personal. I got tears all over it by the end and was a snotty-nosed, hot mess. Seems like I should probably now share it with my 10 readers on the internet. They've lived in South Carolina for like six years now.... I have never seen their home, boat, toys, lifestyle.
I have barely spoken to the three kids and the last time I ever saw them was that family reunion in Michigan.
Dear Dad,
At first I was pretty surprised not to hear from you after our last conversation [in June]. Then it just fortified my hurt feelings and gave me continued reason to no longer communicate with you...
I asked for the money to pay for the final leg of my flight last summer because I wanted to see you, see where you live, and have a relationship with you. I can't even fully explain in a way you'll understand how sad it makes me that we have no relationship and I'm not a part of your family. It would have been good for me to come when your wife was away because the entire situation is a lot for me to process and take in, and taking it in pieces would have also been more comfortable for me. [and the airfare to Nashville was already purchased.]
But rather than encourage whatever effort I make, you told me that you were "done coming to Portland," you had "no reason to come to Portland anymore," and asked if I "expected you to take care of me financially as an adult/in my thirties."
This is incredibly offensive to me on so many levels. I have worked very hard to support and take care of myself and I still do. It's very sad and heartbreaking that visiting your oldest daughter in and of itself isn't reason alone to ever want to come to Portland again. I feel that I've made many efforts to try and be a part of your family, but this final conversation just left me tired and disheartened. Thank you for the Christmas gesture, but I'll respectfully decline your money. Merry Christmas.
Holly
p.s. I cried on my birthday after getting an eCard from you. Its too painful to want to have a relationship with someone and not be allowed to. I can't help but feel that I wasn't good enough to be loved by you. I know that's the hurt child in me but when you hurt me now, as an adult, it just reinforces this deep-seeded believe I have created. All I can do is continue to work on trying to love myself, and accept myself, and try to believe that I have value and deserve to be loved. Maybe one day I will still be able to have a loving family of my own.
And so it was written. And my face is now dry, and tomorrow is a new (rainy) day and life goes on. All we have is hope for the future and lessons of the past to guide tomorrow's choices.
Wearily she smiled and closed her computer after narrating the end of today's story in the 3rd person.
I'm actually a swirling ball of emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve. It's a miracle I am able to even work in sales, seeing as I am so sensitive to the actions of others. I've had to learn to not take things personally (still completely, fallibly working on that.)
Today I went to the mountain for a snowy hike with a new friend and our dogs. Over the goofy antics of the dogs frolicking and freaking out in the snow, we tromped down the path to a frozen Trillium Lake. It was a nice change in scenery for my typical Sunday.
On the way home we stopped at a Taco Shoppe in Government Camp to wait out the apres-weekend-warrior traffic shitshow. He asked me alarmingly personal and insightful questions and poked at my vulnerability. (Which made me increasingly uncomfortable.) I answered the deeper philosophical questions, positing my two-cents about what it means to be human, and squirmed when he tried to get me to put my hand on his to test the heart-communication theory. I didn't want my heart to say anything that wasn't ready to come out of my mouth.
After getting home, I was already feeling weird inside. I called me mom on the way to run a final errand and was soon crying over an hour long talk with her, explaining that I wasn't sure if I was upset because I was disappointed that I wasn't immediately in love/lust with this person, felt like my ego was being over-reflected back at me, and I didn't like what I saw, or am just disillusioned and worn out with the idea of dating and trying to find this person that's supposed to match you and bring out the best in you...
to no avail...
I am hesitant to let someone see my inner world and know how terrified I am of being hurt again in a relationship. I question whether I will even be able to love someone with the same intensity and feeling as I did M. I'm afraid I'll never even feel that way about someone ever again. He was so close to everything I wanted to find in another person. And the timing was all fucked up. And I made mistakes. And so did he. And then he moved on right away, and I... am still a work in progress.
I just finished writing my dad a letter tonight that I've been percolating on for months. It's super personal. I got tears all over it by the end and was a snotty-nosed, hot mess. Seems like I should probably now share it with my 10 readers on the internet. They've lived in South Carolina for like six years now.... I have never seen their home, boat, toys, lifestyle.
I have barely spoken to the three kids and the last time I ever saw them was that family reunion in Michigan.
Dear Dad,
At first I was pretty surprised not to hear from you after our last conversation [in June]. Then it just fortified my hurt feelings and gave me continued reason to no longer communicate with you...
I asked for the money to pay for the final leg of my flight last summer because I wanted to see you, see where you live, and have a relationship with you. I can't even fully explain in a way you'll understand how sad it makes me that we have no relationship and I'm not a part of your family. It would have been good for me to come when your wife was away because the entire situation is a lot for me to process and take in, and taking it in pieces would have also been more comfortable for me. [and the airfare to Nashville was already purchased.]
But rather than encourage whatever effort I make, you told me that you were "done coming to Portland," you had "no reason to come to Portland anymore," and asked if I "expected you to take care of me financially as an adult/in my thirties."
This is incredibly offensive to me on so many levels. I have worked very hard to support and take care of myself and I still do. It's very sad and heartbreaking that visiting your oldest daughter in and of itself isn't reason alone to ever want to come to Portland again. I feel that I've made many efforts to try and be a part of your family, but this final conversation just left me tired and disheartened. Thank you for the Christmas gesture, but I'll respectfully decline your money. Merry Christmas.
Holly
p.s. I cried on my birthday after getting an eCard from you. Its too painful to want to have a relationship with someone and not be allowed to. I can't help but feel that I wasn't good enough to be loved by you. I know that's the hurt child in me but when you hurt me now, as an adult, it just reinforces this deep-seeded believe I have created. All I can do is continue to work on trying to love myself, and accept myself, and try to believe that I have value and deserve to be loved. Maybe one day I will still be able to have a loving family of my own.
And so it was written. And my face is now dry, and tomorrow is a new (rainy) day and life goes on. All we have is hope for the future and lessons of the past to guide tomorrow's choices.
Wearily she smiled and closed her computer after narrating the end of today's story in the 3rd person.
