The butterfly with the missing wing is a symbol for the twinless twin. The twin that never got to have a twin. Or did, but very briefly. This is a small decoration I made to honor my missing twin and try to heal the wound their absence left. The design of the butterfly is not mine, but I found it to be just perfect. The butterfly is beautiful, but it will struggle to fly with the flowery wing.
You may find it odd for someone to mourn a twin they never actually had. So did I when I first read about it. Yet it makes sense. I don’t know what age I was when I was told about my twin that died in the womb. All my life it was just a fact in my personal history. Weird enough I never asked whether it was a boy or a girl, or indeed if my mother knew that. It was a topic I never found the courage to discuss because deep down I’ve always believed it was no accident, no miscarriage. Why ask a question you don’t want to hear answered?
Here, in Romania, my generation has a special name. We are called “Decretei”, from the word for decree, the children born immediately after the communist regime made abortions illegal. You can find plenty of articles about the suffering of the women, but nothing about the children that were not exactly wanted. Or those that survived back-street abortions.
I was loved as a child and had the best care my mother could give. I’m not complaining about that, but even as I write this there’s no shaking the gut feeling I was not meant to be here. And this brings me back to my missing twin. The twin that died so I could live.
I started reading about this sort of trauma after discovering Gabor Mate, who really changed my outlook. I’m the sort of person who didn’t use to believe in trauma or the inner child, a concept I found too New Age and definitely whiny. I used to believe what’s done is done, you get over it, and you move on with your life. It was only after reading ‘When the Body Says No’ and “The Myth of Normal”, that I had the courage to face my inner child. And she was very angry.
What I found really mind-blowing is the concept of cellular memory. Mate did not come up with the concept but quotes various studies on how our cells interact with their environment. Why bring up cells when talking about my missing twin? Because if this theory is correct, the short existence and the death of my twin are inscribed in my cells. Those who say the womb twin survivor idea is nonsense argue that in most cases we’re talking about a bunch of cells that cannot know or understand what’s going on. As Mate puts it:
### “Our perceptions of the environment are stored in the memory cells.”
The twin bunches of cells in the womb already have perception proteins that interact with their environment. The developing nervous system of the baby receives all sorts of electrical, hormonal, and chemical messages. Sometimes, the message is that **“the world is unsafe and hostile”.** No matter what led to my twin’s death, it’s safe to assume the environment in the womb was dangerous, lethal, in fact, a message my own developing nervous system heard loud and clear, and stored in its memory cells.
I read an account of how psychedelic experiences can take you back to the moment of losing your twin in the womb. (Not in Mate’s books, although he, too, believes in psychedelics). This is something I cannot verify, but I can vouch for things like fear of abandonment, feeling alone or different, symptoms often associated with being a twinless twin.
I wanted to include in this post my ideas of what my twin would be like today. We probably would have shared a passion for writing and learning, which runs in the family. Maybe he or she would have inherited a certain musical talent, which I did not. But, try as I might, I cannot really imagine their life, and for good reason. When thinking about my missing twin I imagine their life mirroring mine, as it is now. But I realize my life would be so much different had my twin lived. One of the most significant realizations I had was that I would have been spared certain traumas that were only possible because I was alone and vulnerable. There is strength in numbers and the two of us could have protected each other.
All my life I’ve been very reluctant to share my problems. I can listen to endless complaints my friends have, but I’m never the one to share. I’ve given it a lot of thought as to why that is and found various reasons. Yet, maybe it’s because I’ve never had the only person who would have really understood me. I have plenty of siblings and half-siblings, but I never truly bonded with any of them. I imagine some will ask what is the meaning of the butterfly decoration hanging on my wall and I already know I won’t tell them. I decided I want to share this story here because over the years this is where I’ve written about many personal issues and feelings I don’t normally share. It’s probably the anonymity that allows me to open up.
An essential part of healing emotional trauma is simply acknowledging its existence. This whole rambling post has been about that - **acknowledging missing my twin**. I am entrusting their memory to the blockchain for safekeeping. The two words at the bottom of the image I put in Portuguese, just because I’m learning this language at the moment. They refer to my chronic inability to be in the moment, but for the purpose of this text I shall address them to my missing twin.
#### I am so sorry we never shared a life, but for me you are
### Here.
### Now.
hiveblocks