The Middle Child

My entire family confides in me. They tell me issues they're having with another member of the family. They tell me suspicions they have about a spouse, a child, a mother-in-law, a friend. They tell me their own problems, their own struggles. And then they say, "Don't say anything." And so I walk around carrying it all, along with my own. And, really, I have plenty of my own.

I'm glad they feel they can confide in me. I'm glad I can be that person for all of them. I am that person for many of my friends as well, but somehow it's different. While I worry about friends going through tough times, something about it being your own family member makes it that much harder to bear.

It doesn't help that it's my nature to want to help everyone around me, to want to always make things better for everyone, to want everything to be okay. I'm sure this is a chicken and egg kind of situation - do I feel this way innately, or has it been nurtured in me by the role I've always played in my family?

I was already dwelling on my last few conversations with my brother, and now I've just finished a conversation with my mom that can only be described as heavy. The sadness - and helplessness - I am left with just feels heavy. It's information I don't want and I can't give it back.

No wonder I can never sleep.