Cosmos of Kate

Last night I gifted my niece (Abby) and nephew (Wyatt) an alien themed beach ball I had gotten them as a souvenir from my recent trip to Roswell, NM. As we were playing, Abby (two years older than Wyatt) quickly turned it into a game of “whoever touches it first gets the ball.” As I watched them play and engaged in the game myself, I realized three things. First, Abby had two and a half years of life without her baby brother, getting all the attention, all the gifts, all the love for herself. When Wyatt came along, suddenly all of those things had to be shared. She was no longer the center of attention and the jealousy and desire to be in control shows itself often. Second, Wyatt never complained about Abby’s behavior because he has never known any different, that was the life he was born into. He has always been second, and honestly was just happy to be included in the game. Third, I found myself teaming up with Wyatt against Abby because she had the upper hand. She was taller, faster, more stable on her feet. Wyatt didn’t have many advantages, so I gave him one. Then came the realization that Wyatt and I are the same. We are both second born, slightly disadvantaged in relation to our older siblings, yet just happy to get any form of attention and be included in the game. We don’t expect to be the best, we don’t feel the need/drive to always win or always be right. Yet we look up to those who do have that need and expectation, and we attempt to emulate it. Maybe if we are good enough at trying to be like them, we will get noticed. We’re not perfect and we know it. We’re scrappy, and we use what resources we have to make our lives better. We are the underdogs.

I have always felt like an underdog in my life. I have rarely been the center of attention and I’ve had to fight for the things I want, and I don’t always get them. Growing up in the shadow of my brother (Matt) has had a major impact on my life. He was first-born, incredibly smart, ridiculously tall, great at sports, and was held (oftentimes self-imposed) to very high standards. Throughout my formative years I often felt either invisible or known solely as “the big guy’s little sister.” We spent my fifth-grade to senior years of school traveling all across the state and country for Matt to play “all-star” basketball tournaments. Yes, he was THAT good, which made me loathe it all the more. I did enjoy parts of it through the years, but the amount of time and attention devoted to my brother made me start to resent him. At home I would do things Matt would (and likely still does) consider attention-seeking. Being in his shadow all the time made me crave attention, especially from my family.

As I got older I started intentionally seeking out things to do that he either didn’t like to do or wasn’t as good at. I didn’t rebel much in my teenage years as some do, but I did make a conscious decision that was somewhat unexpected when I entered high school. Instead of trying to forge my way through those years playing sports as my brother had done, I decided to quit sports altogether. I focused all of my time and energy into art, my passion. So what if I was tall and also good at sports? I wanted no part in it, both because it was the thing my brother was most known for, and I also didn’t much care for competition. I wanted to make my own name for myself in an entirely different way.

As we grew into adults, life seemed to have a way of just working out for Matt. Sure, there were a few things that didn’t work out here and there, but a good 90-95% of his life seemed almost perfect, exactly as he had planned it. He went to Oregon State University for four years, graduated college, got a good job, bought a house, got married (then divorced), got married again (lucky for all of us it was to the right person this time), bought a new (gorgeous) house, had two of the most amazing children on the planet, and is generally living his best life. Me, on the other hand….

I moved in with my high school boyfriend, went to community college, broke up with my boyfriend, moved back home to go to nursing school, graduated nursing school and moved to Portland, got a good job and my own apartment, eventually moved in with Matt when he bought his first house, traveled to Europe for vacation, got a dog (best decision of my life), had a two-year relationship that failed, moved out of Matt’s house and in with my new boyfriend, got my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in nursing, eventually bought my own house, had six years of co-habitation and life building that I was sure was going to last, got dumped for not being loved anymore (lucky for me, it was only my name on the house), had a series of short lived romances, went through a pandemic as an infection control nurse, got thyroid cancer, dated a sociopath, my dog died, got incredibly depressed, got another dog, decided psych meds were a good idea, had another two year relationship that didn’t last due to it being long distance, tried another couple of interesting relationships, and turned 40.

Is it good to compare your life to others? Of course not. Does everyone do it? Abso-fucking-lutely. No one has a life that is actually perfect, we all go through shitty times, but some people do lead lives that, to others, seem nearly perfect. Much of my life has turned out the opposite of what I wanted and planned for. However, I have recently realized that while some bad things do occur in my life, I’m someone who can take it, and take it in stride. I’m beginning to learn how to love my weird, crazy life in a giant house by myself, cohabitating with a dog and a lizard. I’m okay with my life not being perfect, and in some ways am glad it hasn’t been. I’m the kind of person that has learned to roll with the punches and ride the waves. Am I winning at life? Some would say no. Though I have learned over the years that life isn’t a game you can win, and if you try to win at it, you’re going to be a sore loser. However, those that are just happy to be playing the game are the real winners. We are the underdogs.