Easter is coming and, along with it, is our birthday.
I don’t know how I feel about any of it anymore. All I do know is that things will never feel like they did before. Our birthday isn’t the joyous occasion it once was. April, isn’t the month I grew up looking forward to. Neither is December.
Life is altogether totally and 100 percent flipped from everything it once was. It’s like I’m looking at a reflection and some of the things are the same but you know that it’s still not completely right. There’s some distortion or change in perspective that isn’t quite right.
But I’m there. I can see myself. But I know that’s not me.
I wonder, often, if it ever will be somewhat okay again. Like, will I still have dreams? Will I still seem fulfilled if or when they’re completed? Will I still feel something major lacking in everything that I do? Right now, that’s what I feel will happen.
Everyone wants you to “get better” and “get over it.” They tell you to focus on your hopes and dreams, but what they don’t realize is that when I think of fulfilling those hopes and dreams, all I see is not being fully fulfilled. How can you when you’re not complete? When the other part of you is gone from this world?
But, outside of merely fulfilling those hopes and dreams, is the outrageous notion that I even have hopes and dreams. It’s pure ignorance, to be honest. And I don’t say that to be rude. I say it because it’s true. Why? Because twins are unique in that they are born into the world with a plural identity – not a singular identity.
I’ve never known my identity outside of my twin. It’s impossible until they’ve been taken from you. Yes, we took different paths in life and lead separate lives, but we were still purely plural in that we always knew the other was there for us – no matter what.
And our hopes and dreams? Those are plural, too.
We grew up dreaming the same dreams. Yes, they were altered slightly for each of us – but they were OUR dreams. We each knew our futures had each other in them, because our dreams were the same.
It’s weird because it’s so hard to explain to a singleton. (Singleton is the term that Twinless Twins groups use to refer to non-twins.) This sense of plural identity is more than just a co-dependency. I know this, because Blake and I lived very separate lives and were incredibly different from one another and independently operable outside of one another. But we grew up with a plural identity.
K. Bacon discusses the “we-self” in his book Twins in Society: Parents, Bodies, Space and Talk. In it, he discusses the “simultaneous experience of togetherness” and I particularly like an accounting were a woman named Olivia explains: “We do not know where one twin ends and the other begins. There is no ‘he’ to mark out Adam and no ‘I’ to mark out Olivia. Indeed, within the ‘we-self’ there is no self and no Other.”
And that’s so true.
I struggle every day with living as an “I” when I’ve only ever known the “we” identity. I simply don’t know what my dreams are outside of our dreams. I don’t know if I want the same things anymore because they hurt so bad knowing I won’t share them with my twin. But I don’t know what I could possibly want outside of what we dreamed together.
It just sucks. Horribly.
There’s no polite way of saying it. Life sucks without your twin. Without your backup. Without your sidekick. Without your extra kidney walking around.
I miss Blake everyday. Every. Single. Day.
I doesn’t get better. I gets more difficult. You just get better at hiding it from society because people don’t know how to handle grief. And, since you’re the only one acting weird, society expects you to hurry up and make things right again.
But they’re not right. They never will be. There’s nothing normal about a twinless twin. There’s nothing okay with that. And you shouldn’t have to feel rushed in your grief because it’s inconvenient for the rest of the world.
Because there will always be a missing thread that has completely unraveled the fabric of your life through its loss.
And for me, there will always be a missing egg during the Easter season.