family

by muchtomychagrin

There’s a lot I can say about my family. I always have a lot to say about them. Mostly good, but when it’s bad, it actually hurts to talk about it because, I’m personally hurting from having to feel the way I do or to think or say unsavoury comments about them.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love my family to pieces. I give a lot of myself for them. I’m happy when they’re happy and I’m always willing to sacrifice many things for them. Be it driving out of my way to get my grandmother from one place to another. Searching high and low for a present for my cousin. Dropping plans just to have dinner with my mother. Taking some time out just to listen to my father talk because he just wants to lecture. Doing a whole plethora of things for my younger brother.

But then, there are days like today. Where I wish I never even bothered with the emotional investment in the first place. I don’t regret my family and there’s nothing they can do that will change how I feel about them. But that’s where it’s scary. And that’s where it hurts. I hate to say this but it’s true and they are, for the most part, a direct influence on the fluctuation of my self-esteem. Most of which were the tools that either drove it down or lit it all up only to be destroyed in flames.

I’m sure it was never intentional. But that’s what I tell myself.

Today, my father arranged for a lunch for his side of the extended family because my aforementioned brother will only be home for a brief period and with the holidays (Christmas and NYE), there won’t be time for all of us to get together and have dinner. It was all very obvious that my grandmother (Dad’s mother) was anxious to see him. We woke up in a frenzy and drove to my parents’ office to have lunch with my Dad’s mother and sisters.

Being a traditional Chinese family, I’m not fazed by the fact that my brother has always been the apple of their eyes and not me. He gets looks and words of praise and affectionate pats and genuine shows of concern. Generally, everything is better than me. His half-hearted attempts which are basically grunts of half answers are normally received with laughs and obvious glowing pride. (I want to stop writing this because it sounds like I’m whining but I’m just stating the general truth). My father is the only son in his family to have another son. So you know what that means. My brother is the only one that is “carrying down the family name”.

Thankfully, my parents, Dad especially, has never held any importance to gender roles. He never played favourites and he would treat my brother and I to equal opportunities and affection. However this didn’t extend to the rest of his family.

It never really bothered me when they’d showed more concern towards him. I’m not one to bask in attention and limelight anyway. It makes me uneasy. I know that my brother doesn’t like it either. He finds it embarrassing and he doesn’t know how to react. And I know it’s not his fault; he doesn’t ask for it. So it never really got to me or irked me in any way. I normally blew it off and wouldn’t mention it.

But today was a whole different story. I couldn’t really blow it off because how do you pretend that you don’t hear the sting in the air that came from the blatant slap in the face? How do you IGNORE that?

I was invisible. I wasn’t there. I carried their bags and gave them gifts from overseas and noone said a word to me. My Dad’s brother and wife, who we met outside their office, completely ignored me and zeroed in on my brother. Granted, my parents are reassuring me that he’s getting the attention because he had just left home and come back for the first time.

I don’t think so.

I called my grandmother when I arrived home to tell her that I was home, she asked me when I got back and then went on to ask “WHEN IS YOUR BROTHER COMING HOME?” Cool, that didn’t bother me then either.

Today was the first time I saw her since I got back. The last time I saw her was July. The last time my brother saw her was in August. We both went to greet her and hug her at the same time but I was ahead of my brother. I opened my arms to her, to have her grab my wrist and then proceeded to SHOVE me aside, literally pushed me to the side, so she could open her arms to embrace him. We’re not actually a huggy family. Traditional Chinese families don’t hug. So you know what that means.

How can I ignore a shove like that, really? And how can I ignore being treated like I don’t exist?  How can I pretend like this was not at all a slap to the face?

And the funny part, is that I don’t really understand why I feel the way I do. I don’t really feel upset but yet it irks me enough to write about this in such a fervent manner that, I know when I reread this post later, I’ll just cringe at how immensely whiny all of this sounded.

Because, truthfully, I don’t care if my grandmother showers me with the same affection as my brother. I don’t want that attention. I’m not craving it. I just don’t want to be treated … that way. I don’t feel like I’m worse as a person. I don’t feel like my self-worth has diminished. I know it’s nothing about me as a person that determined the way they’re treating me.

But yet, I question what it is I had done to warrant this kind of treatment and it’s just really hard not to take personally. Because, really, how can you not take it personally?

(The other side of the family has a whole different control switch to my self esteem that drives it up as much as it pulls it down. That’s a whole different story.)

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