Until you realize the exact root of the problem, accept it, and come to terms with it, nothing will change. It will just be a vicous cycle, going around and around with no change being implemented.
"Change happens when the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of changing."
But, until you realize the problem it's mighty hard to change.
My childhood before four was any toddlers dream. My parents thought I was the greatest thing in the world and spend tons of time and attention with me. Also, they cared enough to realize that interaction with other kids was a major part of development and got me involved with toddler's things at the YMCA.
I was my daddy's "princess" and the "apple" of my mother's eye. Their focus was on me and me alone. I was a cute blonde haired, blue eyed, compliant child. We love(d) each other more than life itself. My perfect world could only be made more perfect by companionship, or so I though.
"Jesus, please give me a baby brother or sister," I would pray every night as my mom rocked me on that blue rocker in my room, with only the hall light streaming in. I prayed so hard sometimes. I wanted a baby so bad.
"I will rejoice... this is the day the Lord has made," I woke up, singing, the morning we would drive to Green Bay to get my baby brother. This was probably the most exciting day of my life, and I remember some parts of it very clearly. I remember his birth-mom and the special "Mickey Mouse" toy she gave him. She loved him and wanted what was best for him. I remember feeling my first prick of jealousy in the midst of being overjoyed as we sat at a restaraunt and the waitresses obsessed over my baby brother.
Bringing him home was so overwhemingly joyful. From here on out my life changed. I was no longer the cute little baby. I wasn't the one who got all the attention. I had to share almost everything. Sharing the attention was the hardest thing. Everywhere we went he was the center of attention. Don't get me wrong, my parents still paid attention to me and loved me just as much.
I watch videos of us as children. After we got my brother I was pushed aside from the camcorder, at times when giving Michael attention, at other times I wanted to steal his glory.
I was jealous. Of course, I think I was too young to realize this at the time, but subconciesly as cute and adorable as he was something inside wasn't right. It was bothering me, and who better to take it out on than the evil one himself? I remember blaming him for everything. Of course siblings do this, but when he was little and something went wrong it was his fault. And a lot of times my parents believed me and he got blamed and punished. Looking back I regret it all and have no excuse for myself.
Throughout the years when interacting with my brother it's been more fighting than anything else. Deep down I would die for him, but on the surface I'm in the habit of only showing animosity toward him.
Both being strong-willed and short-tempered we fought often, most days I would say. Subconciesly I think a lot of it was over our parent's attention. We would bruise each other, and our hurtful words did more damage than the physical scars. We'd burrow our nails into each other and throw chairs and phones at each other. We're both more mature than that now, but our words can still hurt.
He's almost thirteen now, and turning into an amazing young man. I've only recently realized what was hindering our relationship, and only recently have we truly been "friends."
I can honestly say that I love him. Now that I'm able to face my problems, even though old habits die hard, I know and accept that change takes place when the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of changing. Needless to say, we've recently been getting along extremely well and I'm happy I finally realized why I was the way I was all along.
~Sarah
