locked in the trunk of a blog

Things have changed for me lately. It started in May, or maybe earlier, but I first noticed it in May. We were at a family event in another city and the first night we all went out to dinner. We’re maybe 20 people so we’ve got a long table set for us. I choose a seat and pour a glass of water, only to have my dad tell me to move over because he wants to sit there. Fine, now I’m shoved to the end of the table with my brother, who I just spent 3 hours in the car with and don’t have anything else to say.

After dinner I find out that, for our next family event, in yet another city, my brothers are staying with our aunt/uncle, my parents with the grandparents, and me and psyphen? We’re across the street with the neighbours. Great. I get to spend my vacation as a guest in a stranger’s house while everyone else is relaxing with family. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice people, but when you’re at someone’s house you’re a guest. And when you’re at family’s house, you’re family. There’s a difference in how you act and obligation to your hosts.

So I call my dad on it, saying that I’m always pushed aside, pawned off on the neighbours and not included with the group. A few weeks later I am allowed to stay at the house with my grandparents, and elderly aunt/uncle, and my parents. I am the youngest one there by 26 years. Fantastic. Why is it so important for my brothers to stay with people their own age but not me? Because I’m supposed to be on my own, not part of anything. I get it now.

Fast forward 2 months and we’re at the next big thing. Psyphen and I are returning from a quick visit to a cousin out-of-town and we’re promised that someone will pick us up from the ferry. The ferry is later than expected (one sailing was cancelled) so all of a sudden, no one can get us and we’re going to have to make our own way. It isn’t that I mind taking a bus, it’s the sudden reversals of offers made to have a ride.

And today, it’s happening all over again. Months before I booked a flight out of a nearby US airport, I asked my mom if she’d be willing to drive us there. She said yes. I booked the flight. Then she’s changed her mind and we’ll have to drive ourselves. In 3 days. And pay for parking for the week. Again, it’s not the driving myself part that bugs me – it’s that everyone flakes out on me when they say they’d help me out. And then acts like everything’s ok. Well it’s not. I hate it. It is another reminder that I’m not as important to the family as my brothers are. They get the help they’re promised.

I’m torn between exacting revenge or cutting off contact for a while, forgetting that they’re around. I suppose I’ll just stay away for a while so I can cool off.