Learning to be Second

somewhere in my childhood, i was taught that i was not first. 

i wasn't entitled to be first. wasn't worthy. was not deserving. 

someone taught me that i don't matter as much as everyone else. 

and i believed it. i have always been good at learning. i have always been good at paying attention to what i am being taught - to the overt and unspoken messages being given to me. 

for as long as i can remember, i have always put everyone else ahead of me - other people's needs in front of my needs. it doesn't matter if it is my partner, my friends, my family, my students, my colleagues, or even strangers. 

i have very few memories of feeling like i mattered. 

i never chose what game we were going to play, what movie we would watch, what we would have for dinner, where we would go, or any other "easy" decision that people make hundreds of throughout the day.

a pivotal moment in this process was my 9th birthday. that day has stuck with me for the last 30 years. 

my cousin CP is my best friend. she is 16 days older than me, so she has literally been in my life since birth. there were stretches of years where we were completely inseparable. we continue to be inseparable through the wonders of technology despite so many provinces separating us physically. 

for our 9th birthday, we celebrated at our Gram's house. We were given Barbie-style rockstar dolls. Mine had curly red hair and i thought it was the coolest most beautiful doll i had ever gotten. CP had a matching doll but it had blue hair. 

i was really excited about my doll. The red hair was beautiful. and i imagined the different stories that we were going to act out with our new dolls. 

we were also given plastic hoop earrings. CP got a pair of turquoise earrings and i got a pair of purple earrings. purple was (and still is!) my favourite colour. 

these gifts were awesome. i couldn't wait to put the earrings in and i took out the ones that i was wearing.

this next moment shaped my relationships for many years. not just with CP, but with everyone, and with everyone to come. 

i am not sure that much has really changed.

CP asked me to trade. 

she said that she liked the one with the red hair better. i didn't really like the blue-haired doll. it was the runner up. but i liked CP. i loved her. she was my best friend. and i was terrified that if i didn't do the trade, that she would be mad at me. disappointed me in. that maybe she wouldn't like me anymore. i was scared that i would be left alone with no friends. 

in that moment, i set up the pattern that would follow for the next 30 years. 

so many things went through my mind. i asked myself, did it matter that the blue doll was second best? did i deserve the better doll? was i worthy of keeping something that i liked. 

i loved CP more than i loved myself. 

it was mere seconds before i made my decision. and in that one decision, i gave away more than the doll; i gave away the idea that i was worthy of having something that i wanted. 

then it was time to put in our new earrings. i was ready to show off my new purple accessories and was happy that people knew that purple was my favourite colour. CP looked at my earrings, and then at her turquoise earrings and told me that purple was her favourite colour. and she asked if i would be willing to trade.   

of course i agreed. and i didn't simply give away the purple earrings, i gave away the last vestige of any self-mattering. 

i talked to CP before writing this post. because i know that she has sad feelings about that day. sad feelings about asking me to trade. 

i don't blame CP for the choices that i made that day. because that's what they were: choices. i could have said "no" if i hadn't learned that my wants and needs were secondary to everyone else's. i could have said "no" if someone hadn't taught me that it was more important to keep everyone else happy at my own expense. 

i was so scared that if i said "no" and kept my own things, that CP would no longer be my friend. that she would see me as selfish and mean and rude. so there wasn't ever really a question of whether or not i should do the trade. she asked, and my brain jumped to the thought of losing her a friend, so i said yes. 

over the last 30 years, i have given away so much. not only items but pieces of my very self. 

i always take the smaller piece of whatever food we are eating. i will also always take the burnt piece, or the piece of pie that fell apart, or the drink that is less bubbly. 

i tell myself that i don't care. that i don't need to choose what movie to watch because i don't care. i hate making decisions. 

but i do care. i care a lot. 

of course there are things that i like and things that i don't like. but my fear of being disliked, or being left, overrides my desire to have my way - my desire to make a choice. 

i don't want to make a decision for fear that that decision will lead to judgment and that that judgment will lead to being abandoned. 

it's odd to look back at that photo of my 9th birthday as our 39th birthday approaches us in a month. i remember being happy to be celebrating my birthday with my best friend. i remember how important it was that CP be my best friend. and i remember how scared i was that if i didn't give her what she wanted that she would stop being friends with me. and it was easier to give her my doll and my earrings that it was to take that risk. 

i didn't understand then that it in fact wasn't easy at all. 

it feels so much easier to say "i don't care" than it does to assert what i need or what i want. it is so much easier to let everyone else decide. it is so much easier to believe that i am not worthy of having what i want than it is to try to believe that i am deserving of anything at all. 

my feelings of self-worth haven't changed much in 30 years. 

i would rather help everyone else than help myself. i would rather give away what i have and end up in debt than be seen as selfish. i would rather drive back and forth across the city for someone else 3 times in one day than be seen as lazy. i would rather say yes when all i want to say is no, for fear of being disliked. 

my fear of judgement overrides my instinct for survival. 

i want to change. i want to learn that i matter. i want to learn that i am worthy and deserving. 

people tell me that i am. and i sometimes believe that they actually think they what they are saying is true. 

but what i want to learn, is how to believe it about myself. i want to learn how to believe that i am worthy of putting myself first. of making choices. of saying no when i want to. of learning to know WHAT i want, and expressing it to others. 

it's a process. one step forward and 73 steps backwards. at least, that's how it feels. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

 

  

cousins

In my cousin, I find a second self.

Isabel Norton

i want to write about my cousins. i have a large number of them. and some of them are the best friends i have ever had. 

many people that i know only have one or two cousins. or they are not close to their cousins. or they never even talk to them. this is so foreign. to me, a "cousin" is your closest relation. you can't get any closer than a cousin, in my humble opinion ...

so i want to write about how i experience cousins ...

A cousin is a sister you never had

Anonymous

CP is my cousin, my friend, my confidant, and my other half. we were inseparable for many years, growing up together, playing in the basement, writing in our diaries, making secret codes, talking on the phone for hours ...

A cousin is the one who is already there doing it when everyone else is saying is there anything I can do?

Anonymous

in my family, cousins know what needs to be done. when there is a death, the food starts to be prepared, the cousins show up and start to organize. there is no need to ask for help, it has already been offered - whether you know you need the help or not. 

A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.Anonymous

most of my childhood memories involve cousins. D and the red plastic shoe incident, campfires at the cottage, swimming to the raft, walking through the woods, visiting the cemetery in the dark, making easter bunny cupcakes, taking care of babies, and most of all, having someone to talk to. BH singing wacky made-up songs on the danforth, making snow homes for plastic bunnies, and watching little rascals on sunday mornings.

A cousin is someone who knows all about you but likes you anyway.Anonymous

cousins know your secrets and stay. cousins know you at your lowest and are there to pick you up. 

Cousins by blood – friends by choice.Darlene Shaw

as we have gotten older, cousins have formed friendships. i don't have to talk to my cousins. we could spend the rest of our lives never seeing each other. but i choose to be friends with CP and with D and with BH. i choose to share my life with them. i choose them, not because they are my cousins, but because of our history. 

“Nobody will understand the craziness of your family better than your cousins”

you don't have to explain anything to your cousins. they get it. they've been there. they know that christmas dinner requires kinder eggs. they know that your elderly aunt will make inappropriate unfiltered comments and will need a drive home. they know who pushes your buttons and why and they know how to run interference. 

“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the cousins together.” ~ Woodrow Wilson

despite the large number of us, we could easily drift apart. it is our love and friendship that holds us cousins together. the laughter. the shared memories. the shared knowledge of the woodstove at the cottage and how to light it. the fact that the porch light was always on in case someone unexpected arrived in the middle of the night. 

and finally ...

“Cousins are like Bras… close to the heart and always there for support.”

be kind to yourself, and to your cousins ...

xoxo

...

sing like no one is listening ...

a bubble of happiness. i used to know how to create those ...

once i ate an entire box of strawberry shortcake cereal in one sitting and the sugar and red dye entering my bloodstream and creating a hypoglycemic nightmare in which i literally was bouncing off the walls (and the floor, and the bed, and anyone who got in my way). i was sent to my room to let the sugar and dye work it's way through my system while my cousin L begged me to eat the protein i was being bribed with in an attempt to bring me down from my over-the-top-ridiculous sugar high. but i didn't want to come down from the bouncing goodness. 

another time, the bubble was created by lying on the raft in the moonlight, holding hands with O, after a weekend fraught with drama. and we left all the drama causing people alone with their drama and found time to be with each other, in the moonlight, sharing our compassion for each other. 

click here for photo credit

bubbles of happiness don't happen on their own. they aren't random. they need to be sought out, created, and maintained. they might be spontaneous and unplanned ... but they still need crafting and care. 

i wanted to share one of my bubbles of happiness from my childhood ...

when i was 7 years old, my cousin B and i used to have weekly sleep-overs, mostly at my house. we would make up ridiculous games, like building a snow village for little plastic bunnies that our grandmother gave us for Easter. or naming the yellow foam rabbit from my magic kit "honey bunny." those sleep-overs are one of the highlights of my childhood. B was older and wiser and beautiful and smart. and fun. purely joyfully fun. i bet that when she reads this (and i will be sending it to you B, because i WANT you to read this) she will be taken aback by some of the words i used like "beautiful" - our childhoods were not built around people telling us that we were beautiful, or smart ...

as the years went by, the 4 year age difference between us became too much of a gap and we spent a period of time being cousins, but not friends. at 13, i was only 9 and that was too big of a gap. 

when B went to university, and i was in high school, i went to visit her. and it was so kind of her to take me in for a week and show me her life. over the years, we have traveled in and out of each other's circles, losing touch and finding each other again. always connected by our friendship and by our family ties. 

but this post isn't about B or how important she is to me. this post is about being little, loud, obnoxious girls on the danforth. invincible, noisy, and not caring what anyone else thought about us. 

i have no idea where we were going. it could have been ballet class, or the library, or just the store. but for some reason, we were being taken somewhere and we had to walk for awhile along the busy danforth. and B and i decided that it would be a GREAT idea to sing. loudly. a song we made up. at the top of our lungs. 

i remember walking along the street feeling pure and unbridled JOY with B. 

picture this, the busy danforth on a sunny day. people out walking, shopping, running errands, or just enjoying the day. and then 2 little girls skipping, arm in arm, scream-singing at the top of their lungs:

1, you're a nun!
2, a piece of poo!
3, a drop of pee!
4, shut the door!
5, stick your head in a beehive!
6, pick up sticks!
7, go to heaven
8, shut the gate!
9, drink some wine!
10, START AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and then we would repeat our made up song. and then after that, we would repeat it again. 

i don't know why that was so much fun. i don't know why scream-singing about pee, and poo, and beehives, was hilarious and joyful and exciting and made us so damn happy. but we were giggling and singing and skipping and yelling. i wish that i could recreate that feeling, bottle it, and give it away. because everyone needs to feel the elation of scream-singing on a busy street in the sunshine while skipping arm-in-arm with a cousin-friend, not giving a shit about what anyone else thinks because the joy of scream-singing a made up song puts you in a bubble of happiness that is even better than a blue duvet cocoon. 

i wonder if B would be willing to skip arm-in-arm scream-singing with me now? i think that perhaps i need to find a new way to create the bubble of happiness. maybe i can teach her children our song and find joy by enabling the joy of watching them scream-sing and embarrass their parents ... 

any other ideas? 


xoxo
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