I’ve always (loudly) insisted that every single person in my family looks exactly like me. That we’re practically twins. This is a bit of an exaggeration.
Don’t get me wrong, there are similarities — my dad and I look very alike and my older sister and I look pretty similar. But I find one trait that slightly ‘appears’ in me that loosely ‘matches’ those of my younger sister and mother, and I run with it. You can imagine how many eye rolls and sighs I’ve gotten from them.
Calling myself their twin is more for my benefit than theirs. My family has seen the worst parts of me, so much that it’s almost embarrassing to remember what I’ve put them through sometimes.
And yet they still choose to love me.
They give me the benefit of the doubt no matter how many times I break it. So seeing them in me, calling myself their twin is a reminder to see myself in their eyes — to forgive myself again and again, to be kind to myself, to keep pushing even when I can’t. It’s a way to honor their love and I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see them in me.
They’ve given me a love greater than I could ever imagine and that’s one of the reasons I get up every day.