As a result of this, I am now the "third wheel." My sister and brother have formed a bond that I have yet to replicate with either of them as adults now. It is my penance. Unfortunately, it does not matter how much I have apologized to them and tried to make up to them the horrible treatment I made them endure as children. I have not, and apparently will not, be forgiven. Maybe I shouldn't be.
Now I am the family pariah. It is easy to shift the family's troubles and problems on the person whom they consider the least mentally stable. I have been accused of a myriad of family financial trouble, the stagnation of profits at our family business, driving away customers with my "outlandish behavior" and generally being a worthless human being. Since I work and interact with my sister and brother on a daily basis, it gets old after a while.
So why do I stay? A part of me wants to mend the rifts in the family. Another part feels obligated to carry on trying and proving them all wrong. It is no secret that my mother considers me the mistake. She lets me know on at least a weekly basis. However, I am "Daddy's Little Girl" and my father still has my back from time to time. It also doesn't help my relationship with my mother when she sees all the "bad parts" I supposedly inherited from my father. (There is a HUGE chance he is bipolar as well, but he refuses to see anyone about treatment.)
It is really my son that makes me try and save these relationships. He should know his grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousin. If it wasn't for him, I know I would have left years ago. Most of my friends have left the area and I have been forbidden to contact a few of them as they were deemed "bad influences" by my entire family. (Not for illegal activities or destructive behaviors! They just tried to encourage me to be ME. Horrible, right?) It would seem I was 13 instead of 32. Portland is still calling to me, so I might have to cut my losses and save what's left of my sanity. Being the defective third wheel is no fun.
