The Youngest Sister of Brothers
It wasn't until I was in my 40s that I began reading and learning about "family of origin" and the ways that our experiences as children keep being replayed over and over again in adulthood. (Or rather how we keep replaying them or looking for them or confusing them with "real time" events -- you get the idea.) Anyway, I am the youngest sister of three brothers. When I tell this to some folks they remark, "Oh, they must have really looked out for you." Uhhh ... no. I guess we grew up in a household where it was every person for themselves. And the brother nearest my age was known to deny that I was his sister when we were in middle school (but hey, that is probably classic middle school shenanigans). A number of years ago, when the health of our mother was failing, it was my brothers who carried the weight of caring for her. They banded together like a team. This was as much by my choice as theirs. I had done a lot of heavy lifting w...