Breaking generational cycles

They say that the youngest child is the spoiled one which the rules don't apply. I guess that's true if you aren't me. I grew up with two older siblings, S and T. S; the oldest sibling was the 'smart' one. By that, I mean the one who got good grades in school. T, the middle child, my older sibling, was a failure in school. T went to summer school all four years of high school. They had to go to summer school to receive their high school diploma. Then there was me, and I did average in school. I sucked at math and went to summer school for that, but the rest of my grades were decent. I got into a private university, if that matters.

But, you see, not only am I the youngest, I am the only girl. While I love my brothers dearly, I don't necessarily like them. Below is just a tiny glimpse into why.

On the one hand, my brother, S, my parents constantly compared the two of us. Why can't you be more like your brother? Why can't you get good grades like your brother? Even when talking to other people, they made it a point to mention how 'smart' he was. Or how he was the 'good' kid that never got into things he wasn't supposed to.

On the other hand, is my other brother, T. T lives for the thrill in life. The social butterfly of the family. He enjoys partying a little too much and being around his friends. But, he slacked in school and went through a brutal first heartbreak, and my parents indulged him. It's to the point where he can't do things on his own. His poor wife is stuck always cooking because he refuses to do so.

And somewhere in the middle is where I am. The girl, the one who can't do anything but, at the same time, is highly independent. One year ago, I realized that "independent for their age" was a trauma response. To this day, I refuse to ask for help. I get this horrible guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach if the thought even crosses my mind. It took me a lot of hard work and digging because I could not remember my childhood when I looked back to see where it went wrong. Which I have also learned is a trauma response. When I think about my childhood, I have only memories I once heard my mom tell. Or the fights and arguments when I was a teenager. But for long as I can remember, my brothers were always the priority.

I believe that children are a product of their environment. If you grow up in an environment where there is a lot of yelling and degrading, the chances are that you will, too, when you grow up. I grew up listening to my mom always screaming at my dad, telling him how much she hated him and wished he would die. She even went as far as threatening to kill him because she was in a rage and did not know how to regulate herself. And when you have that for a parent, not very high hopes for you.

Welcome to my life. I am a bonus mom to one and bio mom to two; one angel in Heaven and one here on earth. It took me a long, long time to sit down with myself and admit that I needed help. I lost my first son due to preterm labor. When I had my second son, my life changed completely. I finally knew the mom I wanted to be to my children, bonus, and blood. It took me sitting with myself to develop a plan for how I could heal myself while being the mom both of my children needed. My bonus boy doesn't have the best relationship with his mom (a story for another day), and he sees me with his brother every day. I try to be the same mom to him as I am my own because he deserves to have a mom that loves him and cares about him unconditionally.

I had a mom who was not a mom. I went through my childhood and teenage years alone. I was pushed off because of my brothers. I was neglected emotionally and punished when I acted out to get their attention. My dad was never around; he was always working. Money is everything to him. Maybe that is what pushed my mom to the edge, the burden of kids on her shoulders. As a mom myself, I can see that, but it doesn't excuse the behavior. I had a mom who couldn't take five minutes out of her day to spend with me. Then, when I was a teenager, she was confused about why I never wanted her around me.

I am the black sheep of my family, and I can handle that. I can't take it when the family I am creating gets treated the same way. I have gotten advice from therapists, friends, co-workers on how to handle that situation for my sanity. I hate that it's easier to let them say whatever they will say. No matter how many times I tried to talk to them about it, it's turned back onto me. It's my fault they treat me this way.

I am trying to teach my boys that they are only responsible for their feelings and actions; they can't control others. And what better way to teach them this than to be a role model when they see my parents degrading me. My oldest will ask questions after we have left the situation. It is never easy to talk about, especially when he asks why they do it. We will continue to discuss as long as he has questions because it's teaching him the appropriate way to treat other people. He sees the pain it causes me, and we talk about the pain they have caused me. He needs to understand that words and actions can hurt other people's feelings. And while we can't control the way other people treat us, we can treat them with kindness. Everyone deserves kindness.

A reminder that even though you might be going through a rough time, someone else is too. Always. Choose. Kindness.