Having a sibling close in age is a blessing – it’s like growing up with an automatic best friend. And when you have a twin it’s even more so the case! From birth you literally do everything together and are subject to an almost identical adolescence that builds a deep understanding and unshakable bond with another person from an early age. And in a life where what we all desire the most is companionship, having that relationship from the very start lessens the magnitude of that yearning.
Trust me, I know. Twenty Eight years ago my sister was born thirty seven minutes after I was (which is long for twins but obviously close in the grand scheme of things), and we have been inseparable most of our lives. We’ve always had separate identities, though, and are polar opposites in almost every respect of our personalities: she is the fun, creative type while I have always been the boring bookworm; she eats healthy (or at least tries to) while often the only vegetables in my diet are the lettuce and tomato on my cheeseburger. However, despite our differences we’ve managed to maintain largely the same circle of friends and have similar interests – so growing up, everyone knew that when you saw one, the other wasn’t too far behind.
We never experienced any real sense of separation until college. She stayed local and went to the university in our hometown while I traveled almost 1,000 miles to attend college in Atlanta. The one question we were constantly asked as high school graduation approached was “how do you feel about separating?” One of our classmates even wrote an article in the local newspaper about us! The fact that anyone (let alone everyone we encountered) would be curious about that decision and its potential impact on our relationship is a testament to how close we were. But honestly, I was never concerned. Although it was the early 2000s, there was such a thing as cellphones, and Skype made its appearance soon after we graduated so I knew I could still talk to her whenever I wanted. Living separately didn’t seem like a big deal at all – it actually made me excited!
I wanted to see who we’d become once no one knew us as “the twins”; how we’d do when we were forced to make friends and build real bonds with other people. Essentially, I was excited to see how we’d fare on our own out in the world – and if I do say so myself, I think we did pretty damn good. She maintained friendships from high school and grew really close to her freshman-year roommates, got a boyfriend and juggled a part-time job with school work and externships, while I also developed friendships with a group of girls right away and soon added sorority sisters to the mix, I built bonds with several professors and graduated with the highest GPA in my major.
Fast forwarding a bit, we were reunited in New York City a year after we graduated from college. But I don’t mean that to sound like we didn’t see each other for 5 years… We visited each other often during that time, though we were very much living and thriving in different cities. Yet when she joined me in NYC it was like we had never parted. We obviously were older and more mature, but becoming roommates again was like sliding my feet into my favorite fuzzy slippers. It was home.
My other half was back, and we did everything together! I dragged her out drinking and partying with my law school friends and linesisters, and she made sure we visited funky new restaurants and gourmet meatball stands, went to farmers markets and tried spinning classes. But don’t get me wrong, like any other roommates we have our issues. She hates how I let my dishes stack up in the sink for days and then go on cleaning sprees of the entire apartment (including moving her stuff from where she left it), and I can’t deal with how many different hair products she has brought into our tiny apartments over the years and how she never (ever) closes the medicine-cabinet or cupboard doors, but somehow the living arrangement has largely worked for us.
However, we’ve now been living together for over 5 years and unfortunately all I’ve been able to think about lately is having my own space. I guess it’s only “unfortunately” depending on how you look at it. We’re almost 30 years old and I’ve only lived alone for a total of 15 months of my entire life – and I don’t think my sister ever has. Some would argue that THAT is what’s unfortunate. That you need time alone to grow as an individual, to push your own limits and relish in your own space.
Having a roommate, even though you may love her to the moon and back, causes you to have to compromise always. You have to be mindful of leaving your stuff in common places, sharing the TV, and not accidentally eating her special spaghetti sauce (oops). You have to consider her feelings when you invite people over – after all, maybe she wanted to sit on the couch in her pajamas and twist her hair! But at the same time, you are entitled to invite whoever you want because it’s your space, too. So maybe she finds herself twisting her hair in her room… Though they seem minor, these types of things can wear on you over time. And I feel like we all come to a point where we are just ready to have our own space – and we shouldn’t feel bad about it. Yet for some reason, I can’t shake this feeling of guilt.
At this age I feel like there will be a sense of finality to separating; this time would probably be the last – are we ready for that? Does she feel the same way, or will she take it as rejection or abandonment? Is it the right time for us to branch out and away from each other? Are we missing out on personal growth by continuing to rely so heavily on one another?
I guess part of growing up is being honest about what you want and need in order to be your best self. And maybe part of being the “older” sister is sometimes bearing the responsibility of making the first move, pushing your siblings outside of their comfort zones – reassuring them that they can do it by first having the confidence that you, yourself, can.
But, can I?