Just Between Us

Inescapable Roles

Family Ties That Bind

    Every time I reunite with my family, I’m reminded (how is it that I forget?) how permanently branded we are in the roles that we acquired in our childhood: peacemaker, troublemaker, follower, leader, softie. And even in adulthood, when close age differences should have ceased to be meaningful, my siblings and I still feel forever stuck in our relative roles within our family—as oldest, youngest, big sister, little brother, etc.
    Regardless of our age or however much we’ve evolved, when my siblings and I come together, time rewinds, and the people who we were 30 or more years ago resurface, pulling us back into familiar and inescapable relationship patterns.
    This is not necessarily a negative thing. My family knows me in an utterly unique way, because shared history brings understanding and a remarkable sense of perspective in adulthood. Coming together with my siblings satisfies my thirst for being with those people who understand me to my core. I share a similar sense of humor with them and can band together with them, getting to the root of any problem with lightning speed. I think my siblings would agree that we validate one another’s sense of self. Yes, family bonds such as these are priceless.
    But what I’ve noticed is that the upside to these close ties is also the downside: No one knows me better than my family. With that warm and fuzzy familiarity can come a certain liberty—a feeling of freedom to say what comes to mind, unedited and unconstrained by the social norms that usually hold us back in other contexts. For example, one minute I’ll be basking in the company of my siblings, my closest confidants, and the next I’ll be taken aback at the sharp tone we can instantly have with one another. Or there are the candid and unsolicited opinions that we feel compelled to share. For instance, recently while I was telling a story to my sister, in an exasperated voice she said, “Gosh, your stories are long.” Annoyed, I wrapped up what I had to say.
    It’s funny how our old hierarchy kicks in, and despite our solid relationships, I find us pushing one another’s buttons and experiencing the same all-too-recognizable feelings we had when we were kids. And probably the worst part of it all is how unnervingly accurate the unwanted comments can be. Though there may be truth in what each member of my family may have to say, I can’t help but ask, why is it that with those who mean the most to me, I too, guilty as the rest, can sometimes lack that inner gauge of restraint I use when interacting with friends or strangers? In any extremely close relationship—siblings, parent and child, husband and wife—I’ve noticed that it’s easy to say things in a way that completely contradicts the respect and love that’s felt for the other person. It feels “real” that way, but there’s no denying that it still stings.
    With all that said, I recognize that the cast of characters that make up my family and the way we communicate are what make us who we are, for better or worse. Certain dynamics may never change, and maybe deep down, we don’t want them to, or we would behave differently. All I know is that I’m grateful for these constants in my life (blunt as they might be) without whom I’d be lost.