Our sister Virginia is a really important figure in all of this, so let’s start with her.
Being so much older, Virginia was something of a Demi-goddess to your mother and me. In Lisa’s book, she suggests we both enjoyed her protection and cheerful loving attention. The bigger truth is, although we both held her in awe, we each had a very different relationship with her.
To explain that, I have to go back to before I was even born. By the way, I’ve cobbled together much of the following mainly from stories your grandmother told.
As you might already know, Virginia was an only child for nearly a full 9 years before I was born. Until then, she enjoyed a childhood free of adult responsibility. She also got a lot of personal consideration. Along with our mother’s undivided attention, our great aunt and uncles showered her with love and fun throughout her summer months too. Virginia excelled at school, so her teachers (Catholic nuns) all adored and gushed over her as well. She never had to share clothes or toys, she had her own room, and above all, she had no competition in seeking our parents’ (mainly our father’s) approval (albeit fruitlessly, as did we all). Don’t get me wrong, her childhood was likely far short of idyllic. Our father made sure of that. But it had it’s merits. Merits she likely treasured and missed terribly when they were gone. Which brings us to that fateful year.
The summer before I was born, Virginia and our parents went visiting with relatives. You’ve heard mention of your namesake Aliz’s massive brood of children, I’m sure. Anyway, your grandmother would have been about seven months pregnant with me at the time, and she said that Virginia and her cousin Barbara, Aliz’s eldest, were inseperable during those visits.
There were eight kids in Barbara’s family, which must’ve been quite the curiosity for Virginia. Like our mother who was an only child too, I’m guessing that Virginia likely also romanticized the idea of having siblings. I might be wrong about that, but reports of her enthusiasm for my imminent arrival seem to bear that out.
Unfortunately, that enthusiasm would be short lived. One day, while she and Barbara were playing, Virginia shared her excitement for the arrival of a new sibling. What happened next no doubt took her by surprise, because instead of joining her in that excitement, Barbara suddenly got unexpectedly serious and snapped back with “that kid is going to ruin your life!”
Virginia was all of eight years old at the time. Imagine. Eight.
Having siblings isn’t guaranteed fun for everyone. In Barbara’s case, she had reason to resent her own. With eight kids, her mother Aliz had her hands full, as you can imagine, so unfortunately, being the eldest, Barbara was saddled with extra chores and responsibilities from an early age. I imagine that she probably blamed her brothers and sisters for cutting her own carefree childhood way too short. She probably thought she was doing Virginia a solid by warning her. I can’t imagine she had any notion of the devastation her words might set in motion.
Either way, according to your grandmother, Barbara’s words likely scared the shit out of Virginia. Understandably, that kind of warning at such a young age must’ve been shocking. Having raised kids, they’re frankly not very rational at the age of eight. Likewise, knowing how volatile Virginia’s temperament can be, I can easily imagine how the possibility of losing her childhood would’ve almost instantaneously snowballed into abject fear and resentment. And Virginia being Virginia, her resentment and disdain can be enormous and palpable, and I felt it keenly. It was nearly unbearable and I felt it through my entire childhood and beyond.
But just as how intense her negative emotions can be, Virginia feels positive emotions just as intensely. That giddy anticipation she initially felt for my arrival was likely just as earth shattering as the resentment that followed. Emotions tend to run deep for Virginia, and don’t easily evaporate. So I imagine that initial excitement she felt for a new sibling would likely have still been lingering when Lisa was born. It would certainly be in keeping with Virginia to unleash all that unexpressed passion the first chance she got. Good thing she didn’t have long to wait.
And so you see, that is how the stage was set. Virginia, in her juvenile mind, attributed me with inherent evil, like a devil’s spawn, and by deliberate contrast, endowed Lisa with a pristine virtue, I’m guessing to justify the undeniably inequitable distribution of her love and devotion. So then, while Virginia fed me a daily diet of disdain and rejection, Lisa was treated to an abundance of love and affection. It was palpable to me. I think Virginia meant it to be. This is why, to this day, Lisa has no clue that for me Virginia didn’t leave me with many fond memories, if at all. In fact, in my case, Vriginia was no guardian angel at all. She was a monster.
Now, I’m sure Lisa has herself convinced that the close relationship she had with Virginia was really because she was born more innocent, perhaps somehow more deserving of love. And who can blame her? It helps her feel good about herself. Moreover, what would motivate her to believe otherwise? Her experience would have provided her nothing but incentive to cling to that belief. I would do the same if I were in her shoes. I think anyone would.
Plus, just to compound all this, clinging to her own misguided belief that she should protect herself from me, I can understand how Virginia likely found herself inventing plenty of fault in me to justify her mistreatment. I say inventing, because it started when I was born. Any mother can tell you that at that age, and throughout most of their early years, children are, without exception, faultlessly innocent.
However, having objectivity and a balanced perspective doesn’t come naturally to most people, and rarely if ever to a child. It takes a lot of courage to admit to mistakes in judgments of other people (especially family), because often it means admitting we’re not so special or perfect either. It means giving up the power that comes from an unconscious sense of superiority, or conversely from identifying with victimhood. My sisters are particularly rigid this way. It’s not their fault though. It’s a hangover from our father who also had trouble with empathy. And before you get the impression that I was somehow immune to the same handicap, far from it. I struggled with it for a very long time too. Not only that, even after many years of therapy and rehabilitation, I still catch myself instinctively wanting to throw up that shield of projection.
Still, she didn’t know what she was doing at the time, Virginia was a child after all. And yet, without explicitly intending to, she did inadvertently brainwash Lisa from day one, way before she could develop any other frame of reference. Virginia was like a cuckoo, in a way. She snuck in her own poison egg pregnant with prejudice and acrimony, then completely unaware, Lisa’s nascent spirit adopted it entirely and without question.
Children born close together (as you know I have two myself, your cousins) they make natural playmates and friends, even when they’re remarkably different. But by planting and cultivating a belief that the reason she treated us so differently was because I was born bad and Lisa good, Virginia effectively tainted our chances of building a healthy relationship.
Being Lisa’s elder by a year, I can remember a time that Lisa can’t. Although I can’t imagine her ever admitting it (Lisa always seemed to think we were the same age, or at least she behaved as if she did), but there was a time, a beautiful golden period, a brief moment in our relationship when we were tight. I remember delirious pillow fights, building early morning sofa forts, and giggling together over nonsense ’til we nearly pissed ourselves. But doomed from the start, that fragile moment faded quickly.
Virginia’s doctrine went unquestioned for so long (even by me) that I’m guessing it’s likely too late at this point for Lisa to achieve any awareness of what actually happened to her. And again, expecting her to do so would challenge the very core of her identity at this point. It wouldn’t stand and I wouldn’t dare force it for fear of sending her into a veritable psychological tailspin.
But as I said earlier, this all became evident to me through our mother’s anecdotes. Above all, by bringing the Barbara story to my attention, I learned that I became Virginia’s bete noire before I was even born. And it started long before Lisa was born too. It was then that I had to ask myself, what could be more innocent than a baby? The knowledge that it was so early on in my life just made it all the more irrational and unwarranted. Seriously, that was a revelation for me. This thing Virginia held over me, I realized it had nothing to do with me at all. Honestly, words fail to articulate how healing it was and what fate it saved me from. Maybe someday, I might share about that too.
Before hearing my mother’s stories though, I spent decades genuinely believing Virginia’s juvenile, misguided and disingenuous lies. I absorbed it all and carried that toxic torch on her behalf. It’s no wonder then that it took an equally long time for me to realize that I was no more undeserving of her love, no more unworthy of kindness and respect than Lisa was.
And y’know, I really don’t blame Virginia anymore either. She was eight years old when I was born. She barely started third grade. She was way too young to realize Barbara was equally immature, unable to see through her own resentment to recognize how innocent her own siblings were. Plus, Virginia had no experienced adult to guide her. Our father was not only insensitive but he preferred not to get involved in childcare, while our mother had no siblings at all, so she was entirely ill-equipped to cope with the challenges that sibling relationships present.
All in all, Virginia’s mistreatment of me and her undermining of my relationship with Lisa was the result of an eight-year-old only-child’s ignorance, informed by little more than fairy tales, juvenile beliefs in good and evil, colossal generalizations and black and white thinking. Yes, her skills were maladaptive but without the right support, who can blame her? I can’t see how she could have done anything differently, and I forgave her years ago.
Yet, the effects of that time are still weighing heavy on our relationships. It’s still painful, for all of us, and mostly because it’s all buried so deep. My sisters are sadly also particularly stubborn when it comes to doing the kind of ruthless self-examination it would take to carve that kind of psychological cancer out. But life is remarkably short. My genuine hope is that they eventually find the strength, courage and humility to do it, for at least their own sakes, as I certainly can’t expect them to do it for mine.