Note: I have permission to discuss this topic.
Have you ever thought about what your younger, more ambitious self would say about your current life? If you told little me that at thirty-two I’d be living with my twin sister instead of being the actor or writer I dreamed of being, I might have been too embarrassed to respond. But this is simply how life unfolded—often, it seems, in ways we don’t expect.
My mornings have been the same ever since my divorce left me with just a few suitcases and my small dog. I wake up in a beautiful home (a mansion, really—complete with a movie theater upstairs) that doesn’t belong to me. This place belongs to my incredibly generous twin sister and her husband, who came to my rescue. Like many, years spent avoiding maturity and hard work led me to a dead end. I was fortunate to have family willing to support me, and to say I’m grateful is an understatement. Surprisingly, no one seems to mind my situation as much as I worried they would, and I’ve come to accept it too.
Let’s face it—living with your twin at thirty-two isn’t exactly what society considers ideal. When I first arrived at this “less-than-ideal” situation, I worried about others’ opinions, especially my younger self’s. I can only imagine the mix of emotions little Evie would experience. While she’d expect to be a fully independent adult by now, I suspect she wouldn’t be completely shocked.
I have come to accept my role as the “struggler” in the family. Everyone has one, right? Unless you’re all just amazing—then, well, that’s not relatable at all. I never thought of myself in this way, but it’s the label I’ve heard most.
If you were to categorize me, you’d find I had every opportunity but spent years shying away from hard work because I simply didn’t want to engage with it. Also, I’m the “other” twin. From the beginning, my sister excelled at everything, which is just a fact of our lives.
One of my earliest memories of our twin dynamic dates back to when we were toddlers. I wasn’t following our dad’s bedtime routine, and my sister decided to show me how to do it right. Mom walked in just in time to catch her on top of me, smothering my face with the blanket. (I’d bet my sister will read this and think, “yup, that’s accurate,” while sipping her afternoon coffee.)
That drive and clarity are qualities that have helped my sister become very successful, and she absolutely deserves it. If you’re lucky enough not to be distracted by life’s chaos, please let me know how that feels. None of my family faced the struggles I have. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way.
My mom knew she’d be a doctor from a young age, and my dad is an accomplished businessman. My brother was the life of the party and an exceptional student-athlete. And then there was me. Back then, I didn’t mind being the quiet one. Some people thrive being out of the spotlight, right? In fact, I learned to navigate life without too much attention. However, skating by is what eventually got me into trouble.
At home, we were all treated fairly. I had my theater friends and received every opportunity to learn or play I could wish for. I didn’t even mind when my sister transitioned from the odd girl to the popular one. I was the fifth grader dressed as FDR, complete with a wheelchair and a coffee mustache for “historical figure” day. I knew I looked different.
The only time I truly felt left out was when we wished we could switch places in class. Being plain had its perks, but the teasing about looking so different was hard to handle. When I cared, it was gratifying to surprise people with my abilities. People don’t expect much from those they see as “normal.”
My sister faced her share of scrutiny too, but she never let it hold her back. I’ve adopted her mindset since moving in with her, although I wish I’d done it sooner. As she puts it, when I asked if she knew about all the rumors surrounding her, she said, “I only remember the fun stuff.”
She had many friends because she treated everyone well. I enjoyed my roles in plays, even if they were often male characters, and I kept my grades afloat through music. What frustrated me was my academic performance, and I admit that.
If our younger selves could visit us now, how many of us would shake them and say, “you’re not stupid!”? Life would have been so much easier with that knowledge.
I may have looked like a hobbit (which helped when I played Bilbo Baggins), but being perceived as smart was important to me. That was my first mistake—I often fixated on the mistakes I made when I was younger. I cared too much about what others thought. I had a few bullies, but if I had believed in myself, life would have been easier.
But it’s tough to find your footing when you’re in the same classes as your twin, especially when her achievements were on display. I remember feeling lost.
While my sister and brother excelled in school and sports, I struggled. I don’t say this lightly; I was a child, and my experiences were valid. My parents tried their best to help me with math, which I found challenging. I was more drawn to music, languages, and theater. Most of my time was spent finding refuge in the library or with my French teacher.
Teachers held me to the same standards as my sister, despite my learning disabilities. I was diagnosed with dyscalculia in my senior year, but before that, it was labeled as “laziness.” I received no help when I needed it. The frustrating part is that I actually enjoyed math when I could grasp it.
I don’t blame my teachers for that. The education system was undergoing significant changes in the nineties to support diverse learning needs, but much was still needed. I had tested into the “Gifted and Talented” program, which only added to the misconception that I was faking my struggles.
I was part of the Academic Decathlon and won awards for my essays, but I still ended up on the “Silver Team” due to my low GPA. I excelled in music competitions, but basic math was a different story. I received many failing grades, which led me to give up.
I know I’m not alone when I say that many kids face similar challenges; over a million drop out of high school in the U.S. each year.
As an adult, I learned to navigate my struggles and utilize the tools at my disposal. By this age, many of us have a sense of our strengths and weaknesses. Some of us, like me, are considered “late bloomers.” It doesn’t matter what labels they assign us; what matters is that we find our way.
Throughout my childhood, I felt the weight of comparison to my sister and brother, which was mostly self-imposed. My parents never pressured me, but I felt this need to have my life figured out by eighteen. Isn’t that the expectation? Most parents seem eager for the day they can say goodbye to their adult children.
Much of my discomfort about not going to college was self-inflicted. Back then, attending a junior college before transferring was considered a “loser” move, but many Ivy League schools now accept transfer students. You just have to work hard for it.
Life presents us with certain expectations—college, career, marriage, etc. And as a woman, there’s the added pressure of starting a family before it’s too late.
I floated through life, acting occasionally and playing in orchestras, often indulging in youthful misadventures. These moments are some of my happiest memories, and I believe everyone should experience this journey of finding themselves.
Yet, that nagging voice in my head kept reminding me that I needed to get serious about my future.
In summary, while my path diverged significantly from my sister’s, filled with mental health struggles and alternative learning, I believe everything happened for a reason. I wish I could have told my younger self that she could accomplish anything. Now, I remind myself of that, even when it’s hard to remember.
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