a tear in the fabric of reality

Reality is a weird arsed bitch. Anyone who has known me for a while will completely agree with me on this. Mum rang for Miss R's birthday which was sweet of her, considering that she got my birthday wrong one year. To be fair the MS is progressively making swiss cheese of her brain, so she's lucky to remember as much as she does. During our chat she informed me that we all have nicknames now. The first of my younger brothers is "the Big Shit," no surprises there. My youngest brother is "the Little Shit," again not much of a stretch. The middle of my younger brothers is "the Gentle Giant," and as anyone who has met him will tell you, he is a sweet boy. He's actually a bit of a throw-back, in that he has never really done anything to give the parentals grief (deferring uni, moving to Sydney and back, and going to work on a fishing trawler are minor things compared to some of our exploits). Having said that, he is only 22 so he has still got plenty of time.

Now, given my history I was curious as to what they had come up with for me, and I admit I was rather surprised. Apparently, I am "the Golden Child." WTF? Now even as the black (rainbow) sheep, I was still they one they would call to fix things, but to end up as "the Golden Child" I have to say I’m more than a little confused. Of course in my best reference librarian way, I asked how they had reached this conclusion. It seems that I achieved my most shiny status because I don’t cause any grief. Um, come again? 

For anyone who didn’t know me 15 years ago, which is actually all of you, this probably doesn’t seem like a big deal. Trust me, it is. I was wild. I mean I was really off the radar. Not violent, or dangerous, just completely and unapologetically me. This can be a lot to take on, even now, but then it was unthinkable. I’ve been disowned more times than I can count (my dad hasn’t spoken to me for five or six years). I’ve been written out of wills (which I never cared about, but everyone else in the family seemed to think was a big deal). I’ve been blamed for relatives having strokes and heart attacks. I’ve been blamed for family members becoming alcoholics. I was kept from seeing my siblings. My mother even tried to have me sectioned. 

How the fuck did I then become "the Golden Child?” Even 10 years ago this would have been unthinkable. Now the last seven years have mellowed my mother, and she did eventually realise that how I live my life is not all that bad (even if it in no way reflects what she thought I would do with it). And it is also true that I haven’t done anything outrageous recently, certainly not enough to rival the dramas the “big” and “little” shits are creating for themselves. So I guess what it boils down to is that time has finally put things into perspective for her (and glossed over the rest). Parents are strange but it keeps them amused, so there’s no harm in it.

Still, I don’t feel very shiny. Stupid brain.