Special Burden

Shower ideas can be stubborn. Twice now, a column about "being special" dropped in and began writing itself. At first I resisted, but my promise to myself is to act on ideas that persist...that promise is responsible for The Consciousness Collaborative. While reading, I invite you to NOT be the parent in this scenario, because this message is for the child you were, not the parent you may be.

I grew up as an only child, so I was both the most special and least special kid in the house. I believe this rarely holds true for multi-children families. In fact, Jeffrey Kluger, author of The Sibling Effect, supports my theory saying in a TED Talk earlier this year, "95% of parents have a favored child, and the other 5% are lying."

Sometimes one births a "golden child" for the explicit purpose of breathing new life into the family unit. Other times, the child's behavior or demeanor feels comparatively easy to the parent, and they win the most-liked spot over time. Either way, the child becomes "special."

Siblings react with resentment, jealousy, adoration, anger, elevation, and identities of inadequacy (just to name a few). They perceive this favored child to have the best of everything - the most love, the closest bond with the parent, the deepest-unyieldingly stable connection - regardless of whatever failures or idiot behavior the golden one may demonstrate. In fact, if the parent knew this "perfect child" the way the sibling did, they would know better. But that's exactly the problem, isn't it?

If you are a sibling of a favorite child, you have learned to cope with the crumbs leftover for you to scoop up. Your strategies for collecting these crumbs may have varied from buying into the party line about your sibling being the best thing since sliced bread, to acting the rebel as a way of achieving notice, to quietly becoming invisible, because at least it might feel less hurtful if you choseinvisibility, rather than having it thrust upon you. And, regardless of your chosen coping mechanism, it hurts.

Here's the irony. Though no one talks about it, the special one hurts, too. For a moment, I invite you to look at the dynamics as an observer, rather than an integral part of the system. Does the golden one really have it so good? Remember the notion of "if they could see him/her like I do..."? Herein lies the rub. The special child is rarely seen for who they are, just as the rest of the kids in the family may not have been seen for who they were.

The special one carries a burden different from the other children. He/she must continue to prove how very wonderful they are over and over, simply to maintain the veneer of being seen. The pressure of being the favorite child usually outweighs any positive residual, in particular, because the parents possess the same flaws and lack of connecting skills, regardless of which child they are interacting with. It may look shinier, but the special child experiences a split - "I am the chosen one, but I don't feel love unless I...perform, save the family, look the prettiest, become the 2nd husband..." And even if they do all of those things - even if they fit into the box the parent perceives - the genuine love and safety that comes from being seen for who you truly are remains illusive, because the child has learned to play a role, rather than be who they are. What a quandary!

Whether you identify with the "special" role or the "other" child, allow yourself to see what was real and true with great compassion for yourself, your siblings, and your parents. As we enter the season of "Thanksgiving," perhaps there is space to be thankful for the teachers your family members have been for you. Many of the lessons you came to learn began in that original system. And if you find this column stirs feelings of anger, sadness, and fear relating to your personal experience; that's absolutely okay. Give yourself the space to have those feelings, and allow yourself whatever support you desire to heal the wounds. You deserve to be seen for exactly who you truly are.

With love and compassion for your journey,
Joanne Lutz