A PORTRAIT OF A STRANGER

     

The way I see myself is different from how my family sees me. To them, I’m a stranger—an anchor they cast out when needed, a scapegoat, a means to an end, or just a convenient way to justify their actions. They give me roles I never agreed to, and I don’t play any part in them. Yet, somehow, when there’s a need to cast blame, create a diversion, or find an advocate for their opinions—whether I agree or not—I’m the one they turn to.

I didn’t even know my grandmother had passed until weeks after her death. The first I heard of it was a phone call from my aunt. She was screaming, accusing me of ransacking my grandmother’s house and stealing money from her bank account. Not long after that, I received a letter from my father, threatening to sue me if I didn’t return his gold records—the ones he assumed I took. I wasn’t worried. I had nothing to do with any of it. But somehow, my name had come up, yet again.

Then, there were the articles that began circulating. Somehow, I was linked to those, too—just because they were signed "one of the twins" and filled with misspelled words. One article, in particular, made it into The Enquirer. It claimed our sister wasn’t really our sister or our father’s true daughter. Even my name was mentioned, as if I had agreed with such a personal claim.

One of my siblings even thinks I’m bitter, angry, and jealous. I believe this helps them justify their own actions by painting me as someone not worth caring about. It allows them to dismiss me easily, as if I’m not their sibling.

I had nothing to do with any of the articles against my family when they first started showing up. Later, when I did start writing my own opinions, I always signed my name because I didn’t want anyone else to be blamed for my thoughts. I didn’t even know about the Enquirer article until my twin brother warned me a day before it was printed. I can’t agree with the article's claims. To me, my sister is my sister—regardless of bloodline. I was adopted, after all. I would be the last person to argue about what makes a “true” family member.

As for being bitter, angry, or jealous? I’m not. I may feel a bit envious of my siblings sometimes, but that’s because I looked up to them when we were growing up. Even my baby sister and her twin. But jealousy? No. I’ve always wanted the best for them. I’ve always supported my family, even when I got caught up in their schemes. I let those schemes play out because I believed that, if anyone truly wanted to know the truth, they’d ask me. They never did. Instead, they accepted whatever they heard, especially if it fit into their agenda.

Does it bother me? Honestly, not really. I don’t play their games. I’m not good at manipulation or gaslighting.  I live the best I can, and I’ve long since stopped seeking my father’s approval. I no longer feel the need to make him proud of me.

I’ve accepted who my siblings are and how they choose to live. Whether I agree with their actions or their beliefs doesn’t matter. They are my family, and I love them. But to them, I will always be a stranger. They see me as they want to see me, not as I am.

SIMPLY PUT, I AM ME

    

There’s nothing extraordinary about me—nothing special, different, or unique. There’s nothing you’ll discover about me that you couldn’t find in someone else. I am who I am simply because I exist. I have many flaws, shortcomings, and obstacles I’ll never conquer, but I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. I like who I am, flaws and all.

Sure, my father was famous, but plenty of people have famous fathers. I grew up in Beverly Hills, but countless others have lived there, will live there, or dream of living there. Even my learning disability isn’t unique, nor are my shyness, lack of social skills, or insecurities. Millions of people deal with these same struggles.

When people tell me, "You deserve greatness," or "You’re entitled to happiness," or "You’ll be successful someday," I usually nod and agree out of politeness. But deep down, I don’t believe in being entitled to anything. I believe you only get what you’re willing to work for. Nothing more, nothing less.

When my father passed away and left me nothing from his millions, I wasn’t upset. Of course, it hurt to be cast out of his life, but not because of the money. What I mourned wasn’t the wealth—it was the time I didn’t get to spend with him. I never felt entitled to anything he owned, nor did I expect a penny. I knew enough about my father to expect exactly what I got: nothing.

I’m not someone extraordinary. I’m just a simple person, doing the best I can, living an ordinary life—and I’m happy with that. I always strive to be better, to learn, and to grow because there’s always something new to discover about myself and the world. But my goal in life isn’t to be “better” than anyone else. My goal is to be content with who I am, day by day, moment by moment. To accept that we all have our own building blocks to work with.

The child I once was is still the person I grew up to be, if that makes sense. I carry that child’s curiosity, that child’s resilience, and that child’s capacity to grow into the person I am today.

The bottom line? Life is what you make it. You should only get what you’re willing to put into it. You shouldn’t rely on anyone to give you what you think you’re owed, and you should never feel entitled to anything. Not all days are sunny. Not all skies are clear. Not all paths lead somewhere grand. And not all love lasts forever. But that’s the beauty of life. I accept who I am—flaws and all—and I’m ready to accept the rainy days still to come.

T

REINVENTING MYSELF FROM THE GROUND UP

 

The hard part about reinventing myself is getting rid of the clutter in my mind. The old habits that got me nowhere, the way of thinking that kept me from leaving my comfort zone, and the inner voices that constantly reminded me of all my limitations, a voice I swear is derived from my dead grandmother.

I’ve always tried to be the good guy and do the decent thing, but I’m finding out it was just another means of playing it safe, of not challenging the order, not going against the wave, and not causing any ripples in the water but we live in a world that was built on all those exact things.

Honestly, I do not know where to start except to go to the nearest bookstore and buy a few books on the subject, and I think an excellent book to start with, which I find appropriately titled, “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a “blank” as that is how I feel at this time. Perhaps, once I’m done with it, I’ll read “HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE” because, as of now, I’m not even my own friend. Even now, I’m allowing distractions and an easy escapes from me actually getting up and doing something about it. Sitting in front of a computer and writing about it sure helps, but I’m still just sitting in front of a computer without actually moving forward. So, now I’m thinking to myself; I should jump in the shower,  get dressed, and go to the goddamn bookstore…