Sometimes I am not a very nice person. I am not going in to any detail as to who this entry is about because it needs to remain generic for a lot of reasons. But, trust me...I am not very charitable at times when it comes to family matters. Or maybe I should rephrase that and say family members. And I don't like myself very much when I feel this way, when circumstances come up where I need to be charitable and I feel myself close down. Draw in. I know where it all hearkens back to and you'd think at the age of 55 I'd be able to overcome such petty brattiness on my part. Because that's what it boils down to, childish petty brattiness. But I can't. Or maybe I should say I find it very difficult because I'm not one who allows "can't" to come in to my vocabulary very often. It's strange, tho, isn't it, how we are categorized in family dynamics as children and no matter how old we become we seem to remain stuck there. We are the only daughter. The only sister. The oldest brother. The middle child. The baby. And we can't seem to see our siblings or any other family members beyond that. And we let those categories, those pigeon holes we've been filed in to from what can seem like a millenium ago color every opinion we have about each other as we move on thru the years no matter how old we are. Or is this only me, only my experience with family? Me, who's known as the 'nice' person, the nurturer, the generous one. But I confess here before you all to let you know that I am not necessarily that person. Deep down I am the petty childish brat. And I'm not proud of it.