Since Day One, my relationship with my brother has been tumultuous.
I was three years old and he was three days old when we went to pick him up from the adoption agency. My lower lip is jutting out in all the pictures, and I just remember being very upset that day. My parents later explained to me that this was because I thought they were trading me in for my brother.
Andy has always had a wild streak. Even before he could walk, he earned himself the nickname Hurricane Bill. (His middle name is William.) When I was in preschool, my mom wouldn’t set an alarm for me. She would simply open my bedroom door and unleash my brother on me, who would come barreling in in his walker, making a racket that was impossible to sleep through. When he learned to walk, he had a very… enthusiastic way of greeting me. I remember coming home from my neighbor’s one day, and Andy appearing out of nowhere and tackling me to the floor. I regarded him as the world’s biggest pest, but I suppose this was his way of showing that he loved me. And despite my annoyance, I had a huge protective streak towards him. For example, my mom used to take us to parks all over the suburbs, and there was this one I hated because it was near water. I was terrified that my brother would fall in. I remember my five year-old self trying to figure out what we would do in case of this emergency. There was nothing my parents could say to talk me out of this fear.
As Andy grew, we developed a sense of camaraderie. Although he was still a pest sometimes, we became allies. It was us versus my parents. He had this dinner time comedy routine that would result in me spitting out chocolate milk all over our Sesame Street placemats, us being asked to leave the table, and us rolling around on the dining room floor, laughing and laughing. Family vacations were a riot. Well, for me and Andy anyway. Probably not for our parents. There are countless home movies of my parents trying to appreciate national treasures while my brother and I giggle hysterically in the background. When we were younger, it was mostly just silliness. But as we got older, we continued to work together against my parents, and it became less innocent. Like the time we went on a family vacation to Washington D.C., and we kept trying to sneak off so we could smoke cigarettes. We were such BRATS. I still feel an immense amount of guilt for this time in my life. My parents did everything right, and we were awful to them. Rachel said that Mico was commenting on this recently; how he loves Carmen more than anything in the world, and yet he’s pretty sure there will be a period of time where she hates him. That must be a terrible feeling. But, I digress. The point is, Andy was a thorn in my side when I was younger, but as we got older, it was us versus. them.
However, that wild streak stayed with Andy, and as a teenager and adult, it manifests itself in him saying ugly and awful things. For the most part, as adults, we are great friends and confidantes. When I am frustrated with my parents, I am so thankful to have a sibling to whom I can vent about things and who understands it all. I genuinely like my brother as a person, and we have a blast hanging out. But when he is mean, it is extreme. For example, there was the time in my early 20’s when he was going to leave church early to go skateboarding, and I tried to guilt him into staying for the rest of the service. He announced (in a non-whisper voice) that maybe I wouldn’t be such a b--ch if I wasn’t so f-ing fat. Or there was the time we were supposed to drive down to Florida with my mom to visit our sick grandma, who we knew wouldn’t be with us much longer. He stayed out late partying the night before and just wouldn’t get up and come with us the next morning. It was an ugly scene; I think I cried for the entire first hour of our drive.
But despite these things, I love my brother. He could probably write a similar essay about me and my faults. They are many. And for the past several years, our relationship has been uneventful. He’s matured quite a bit (due in part to his job and his amazing girlfriend). But the other night, things got ugly again.
I was watching a documentary about our national parks, and they were talking about Yosemite. This reminded me of my ex, Chuck, with whom I visited Yosemite. Chuck is two years younger than me, and I know my brother knows people who know Chuck. So I texted him and asked if he’s heard anything about Chuck lately. His reply? “F- you.” I said, “What? You’re seriously saying that to me?” And he said, “I was thinking the same thing.”
I don’t get it. Maybe he was mad because it was late back home. (Stupid 2-hour time difference.) But he’s never had a problem with late night texts before. He’s the manager of a restaurant, so he’s usually up late, anyway. So obviously it’s because I asked about Chuck. I just can’t understand why a simple question would prompt that hostile response.
Well, it turns out my brother has a protective streak towards me, too. Although he expressed himself very poorly, the reasoning behind his reaction was sweet. He remembered how utterly devastated I was by that breakup and just can’t stand that I would even be thinking about Chuck. I had no idea he cared this much. So now we’ve come full circle, from me insisting we go to a different park so my brother wouldn’t drown to my brother cursing me out because he’s so afraid I’ll get hurt again by this guy. Apparently, in my family, we express our love in somewhat dysfunctional ways.
I was three years old and he was three days old when we went to pick him up from the adoption agency. My lower lip is jutting out in all the pictures, and I just remember being very upset that day. My parents later explained to me that this was because I thought they were trading me in for my brother.
Andy has always had a wild streak. Even before he could walk, he earned himself the nickname Hurricane Bill. (His middle name is William.) When I was in preschool, my mom wouldn’t set an alarm for me. She would simply open my bedroom door and unleash my brother on me, who would come barreling in in his walker, making a racket that was impossible to sleep through. When he learned to walk, he had a very… enthusiastic way of greeting me. I remember coming home from my neighbor’s one day, and Andy appearing out of nowhere and tackling me to the floor. I regarded him as the world’s biggest pest, but I suppose this was his way of showing that he loved me. And despite my annoyance, I had a huge protective streak towards him. For example, my mom used to take us to parks all over the suburbs, and there was this one I hated because it was near water. I was terrified that my brother would fall in. I remember my five year-old self trying to figure out what we would do in case of this emergency. There was nothing my parents could say to talk me out of this fear.
As Andy grew, we developed a sense of camaraderie. Although he was still a pest sometimes, we became allies. It was us versus my parents. He had this dinner time comedy routine that would result in me spitting out chocolate milk all over our Sesame Street placemats, us being asked to leave the table, and us rolling around on the dining room floor, laughing and laughing. Family vacations were a riot. Well, for me and Andy anyway. Probably not for our parents. There are countless home movies of my parents trying to appreciate national treasures while my brother and I giggle hysterically in the background. When we were younger, it was mostly just silliness. But as we got older, we continued to work together against my parents, and it became less innocent. Like the time we went on a family vacation to Washington D.C., and we kept trying to sneak off so we could smoke cigarettes. We were such BRATS. I still feel an immense amount of guilt for this time in my life. My parents did everything right, and we were awful to them. Rachel said that Mico was commenting on this recently; how he loves Carmen more than anything in the world, and yet he’s pretty sure there will be a period of time where she hates him. That must be a terrible feeling. But, I digress. The point is, Andy was a thorn in my side when I was younger, but as we got older, it was us versus. them.
However, that wild streak stayed with Andy, and as a teenager and adult, it manifests itself in him saying ugly and awful things. For the most part, as adults, we are great friends and confidantes. When I am frustrated with my parents, I am so thankful to have a sibling to whom I can vent about things and who understands it all. I genuinely like my brother as a person, and we have a blast hanging out. But when he is mean, it is extreme. For example, there was the time in my early 20’s when he was going to leave church early to go skateboarding, and I tried to guilt him into staying for the rest of the service. He announced (in a non-whisper voice) that maybe I wouldn’t be such a b--ch if I wasn’t so f-ing fat. Or there was the time we were supposed to drive down to Florida with my mom to visit our sick grandma, who we knew wouldn’t be with us much longer. He stayed out late partying the night before and just wouldn’t get up and come with us the next morning. It was an ugly scene; I think I cried for the entire first hour of our drive.
But despite these things, I love my brother. He could probably write a similar essay about me and my faults. They are many. And for the past several years, our relationship has been uneventful. He’s matured quite a bit (due in part to his job and his amazing girlfriend). But the other night, things got ugly again.
I was watching a documentary about our national parks, and they were talking about Yosemite. This reminded me of my ex, Chuck, with whom I visited Yosemite. Chuck is two years younger than me, and I know my brother knows people who know Chuck. So I texted him and asked if he’s heard anything about Chuck lately. His reply? “F- you.” I said, “What? You’re seriously saying that to me?” And he said, “I was thinking the same thing.”
I don’t get it. Maybe he was mad because it was late back home. (Stupid 2-hour time difference.) But he’s never had a problem with late night texts before. He’s the manager of a restaurant, so he’s usually up late, anyway. So obviously it’s because I asked about Chuck. I just can’t understand why a simple question would prompt that hostile response.
Well, it turns out my brother has a protective streak towards me, too. Although he expressed himself very poorly, the reasoning behind his reaction was sweet. He remembered how utterly devastated I was by that breakup and just can’t stand that I would even be thinking about Chuck. I had no idea he cared this much. So now we’ve come full circle, from me insisting we go to a different park so my brother wouldn’t drown to my brother cursing me out because he’s so afraid I’ll get hurt again by this guy. Apparently, in my family, we express our love in somewhat dysfunctional ways.
Comments
i agree with Andy--- you are a little too forgiving with some of these dudes. you need to not be so nice. haha.