Growing up, I never felt less loved than my brother but I knew he was my mom's favorite. It was never said but it was just a feeling I had. We were treated differently and my mom would give excuses saying that it was because "I was a girl" that I couldn't do the things my brother did. I would get in trouble for doing the same EXACT thing as my brother but I would get punished, where he wouldn't even get punished at all.
The thing is, they were close. There was a bond they had that my mom and I didn't have. There was this tangible connection they had. She had my brother first for three years and then I came along. A complete accident. I was never supposed to happen and sometimes, I felt that. I knew that I was not a planned child. My mom was happy with one son, whom she loved more than life itself. He caused her to want better for herself, not me. He was the golden ticket and I was an "Oh, shit."
I was dubbed the bad child because when I was young I made up stories. My imagination got me into trouble and though most of the time my stories weren't true, sometimes they were and I got accused of lying. The girl who cried wolf and I was the girl who cried wolf. Despite doing everything in my power from age 12 and higher to remove that image of myself, I failed. Even now as a grown adult, who believes in telling the truth (even if it hurts someone), gets blamed for childhood mistakes that my brother does not get blamed for. It's a double standard because "boys will be boys right?"
But girls who are mischievous and intelligent, oh boy, do they get a bad rep. It's healthy for boys but wrong for girls and I hate that hypocrisy. Fun fact about me: I never used drugs, I don't drink (even though I'm of age), and I never committed a crime but I'm the bad child. My brother, whom I love and respect, has done some "bad" things. But that was just what boys did and even though I didn't do what he did, I got blamed for innocent childhood mistakes that all kids make, where he did not.
It hurts knowing that you aren't number one but I know my mom loved me. I just wasn't my brother. I don't resent my brother, though some would think I do. If anything, I am happy that he was showed love and affection in more profound ways than me. No one ever said that my mom's favorite was my brother but it was just something I could see. It was not blatant but I was more observant than anyone thought. I saw the difference. I felt the difference.
My brother's needs were always more important than mine but that's because he was older. "He was first so he came first," is what she said. I knew better though. My brother was perfect in my mother's eyes and if he did something wrong then he was just "being a boy." If I was caught doing something wrong, I was terrible and had ulterior motives, instead of just innocent childhood mischief. I was a bad child who only wanted the worst things to happen. My mom said I was untrustworthy and a liar. The rumors spread though my family and soon I was the delinquent. The dumbest thing was when I was being accused I would just cop to doing whatever I was being blamed for instead of being yelled at. I would say anything to get my mom to stop accusing me. The truth is, I only did about a quarter of the things I was accused of. Did I cut the cats whiskers when I was like 6? Yeah, but I was just a child and it gets thrown up to me all the time, even to this day. Did I give the dog blue juice? Sure, but it wasn't out of malice, instead it was me (as a child) trying to give the dog variety. I didn't know it was bad for him, I just thought it must suck to only ever drink water.
I am a favorite to someone though. I am my Nan's favorite. It may be wrong but I just know I hold a special place in her heart. She helped me, trusted me and loved me, when no one else would. Even when my mom had skewed my brother's opinion about me, casting the shadow of a liar onto me that I still haven't escaped. Nan was the only one who truly listened to me and knew the truth. All I wanted was someone to hear me and the things I had to say. Nan did, she listened to my mundane stories about school and my boring life. She listened to me complain about my mom casting me as a terrible person and how badly I really was being bullied at school. She knew I wasn't a liar. She cared about my words. I always knew my Nan cared, without a doubt. So while I wasn't my mom's favorite, I am my Nan's and honestly, that works so much better for me because Nan is my favorite person too. I love her more than anyone can understand. I may not have been my mom's favorite child but it's okay because I know that I am loved, no matter what.