Ever since I was a child in kindergarten I knew there was something strange about my mother. She didn't seem normal, but at that time, how would I know what normal is?
My brother, four-years-older, never seemed to be home. I have never had a conversation with him, and I am now in my late forties. He was never interested in getting to know me or including me in his life. He was someone I knew was there but my existence, and his, was meaningless.