Emma L.
Themes: identical twins, identity, self-esteem, self-discovery, codependency, sisters
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Rachel: Emma, can you introduce yourself for the recording in whatever way feels comfortable to you?
Emma: I'm Emma, Emma Lake. I come from Australia, Tasmania, the little island down the bottom. I'm 34 years old and I have a twin sister called Lucy, identical twin.
My dad is from England and my mom is from New Zealand. They met in New Zealand and moved to Australia and we were born in Melbourne. We moved to Tasmania when we were about one 18 months, something like that. and then brought up in Tasmania.
We grew up in quite a small family unit. my mom and my dad and my sister and I, because mom and dad weren't from Australia, my father doesn't have a lot of family. Later in life, we met our sister. We have a sister who is I think about five years older than us. Dad was married before he and mum met, and, had a child that he never knew. She reached out to us when we were about 25. And she's from, England, but lives in LA, New York. So we flew over and met her when we were about 25. And that changed our family dynamic, I guess, or our family unit.
We had a bit of a different upbringing, I guess, in the sense that our parents separated when we were seven. And so then we lived with separated families until—we share-housed in between, we did all sorts of things, moved a lot—and then when we were 14, they got back together again. And they're still together now. So we've sort of experienced what it's like to come from that broken family unit as well as together.
There's some sort of novelty about twins or a fascination with twins. And so in a family unit of four, she was just my sister, I guess. But the moment we were in public, we were very, very shy, very self-conscious children. And I think we really struggled with being people who are sort of a novelty for other people, or people who are examined on a daily basis. And, I think that that probably contributed to us feeling pretty unconfident and shy. Because there was a lot of attention drawn to us all the time, and we struggled with that.
It's strange because, you know, these things happen when you're a child that from an adult's perspective you think, “oh, that's nothing.” But from a child's perspective, it can actually have huge impacts on the way that you identify yourself or, well—this is speaking for myself—the way that I've identified myself and the way that... issues of self-esteem and this sort of thing.
The first memory that I remember was we lived in a house in Tasmania, and there was a woman next door who just thought we were just amazing. She collected dolls and she, she just would come over and “The twins! The twins! The twins!” And she wanted to do some sort of, photo shoot with us. And, you know, I guess from a adult perspective it's like, oh, cute, little twins with dolls all around them.
But I found that to be a truly quite traumatic experience. I just, I felt so, exposed and under a magnifying glass and I didn't really understand it either. I was sort of like, why is she obsessed with us? But I just remember feelings of real discomfort, and I suppose really not wanting to be there doing that. Like I really struggled over my life with a lot of identity issues anyway, and moments like that, I suppose is when I first felt really uncomfortable.
And so when we were, about 10, we separated and went to different primary schools, because I think mom and dad were trying everything that they could to raise us with our own sense of, individuality. And it's a difficult balance because we really struggled together when we were young. And I think that that presented itself through us fighting a lot and saying that we hated each other and this sort of thing. But I don't think we ever did. I think we actually got along really well as children. So we sort of thought we want to go to different schools because we don't like each other. And then when we did go to different schools at about the age of 10, we both struggled in our own way. Because we suddenly didn't have each other next to us.
And I think my sister in particular became probably a little more shy. I dunno, there were positives and negatives. We developed our own friendship groups, which were good. And then over the years they turned into one larger friendship group, which was really a beautiful thing. but it definitely showed us that it was almost just as hard to be separated as it was to be together sometimes.
Rachel: Before you separated, you said you were struggling with the constant comparison. Can you talk a little bit about that experience?
Emma: I think that the comparisons have changed throughout our life. When we were really young, mum and dad tried to do things to make us different and one was dressing us in different colors. But then over time, I feel like it affected my sense of who I was because I was always dressed in blue—and for some reason, my interpretation of being different was that whatever Lucy liked, I had to like the opposite. And so she liked all the things that I suppose were stereotypically, feminine, like she loved, little horses and fairies and ballerinas and I, from a very young age, was dressed in blue. And I liked dinosaurs and sports and I guess just different things, anything that was opposite to her.
And there reached a stage in my life when I realized, I actually think I like the same thing she likes. But that wasn't until about 23.
When we were young, the comparisons were who's the naughty one? Who's the good one? Who's the, smart one? Who’s better and who's not?
And then as we matured, it became—there were a lot of comparisons with looks. And I think our issue with being compared was that we're we're quite deep thinkers and analytical minds. And it manifested in a really unhealthy way where we just looked at ourselves in a magnifying glass and analyzed every single feature, characteristic, everything about ourselves, and held a lot of weight on what that meant.
Lucy had a horrible boyfriend, her first one, and a lot of boys just being young—they would compare immediately our looks. And I suppose I kind of identified myself as the ugly one, which is so terrible. They would analyze, honestly, like the tiniest differences in our boobs or our facial features or our hair or the tiniest things. And I would analyze that and then come to the conclusion that I was ugly. And honestly, that stayed with me through a lot of my young adulthood. I don't think that that we ever would've been compared if I didn't have someone who looked a little bit similar to me.
And, maybe with school marks as well. I mean, we, we just weren't competitive in our nature towards each other. We were quite content being different. But then I do remember feeling again, stupid at school because maybe I wouldn't have made as good a grade as her or something like that, which is just so ridiculous. But I guess it's just that—if you don't ever have to compare yourself, then you're just you with your marks. But if you have someone constantly next to you and people are like, “Oh, who got the big mark? Who got this? Oh, she's made it into that team. You didn't,” then it's only human nature to then think, oh, well what does that mean?
A lot of those things have, disappeared now because I think that our live paths have gone in slightly different directions and over life you learn that there are hurdles and bumps in different places and there's no point comparing because where one person may have lost at one stage, then another one may pick up at at a different place.
I still definitely am used to people comparing our physical appearance constantly. Usually strangers. But it's definitely not what it used to be, and it's not in a way of success or competition or anything like that anymore. Growing up is intense.
I think that when we moved schools, I probably was a little more outgoing. but I still feel like I had no idea—and maybe this is the thing, maybe all children at the age of 12 have no idea who they are or what they like—but I think that I became a bit more of a loud, kind of, maybe, carefree kid?
I'm not quite sure if it was the same for my sister, but, I feel we are, regardless of whether we're together or apart, I feel like I was born with a sort of sense of responsibility to someone else, like a parent might have to a child. It's a sort of connection, like an unconditional love, but also a responsibility in the sense that if something's happening where she's upset or having a hard time, I feel like that weight bears down on me as well.
And maybe that's just because I'm overly empathetic, but I've really struggled with that, especially through being a teenager. I got the feeling that I couldn't be a free child or teenager because I couldn't think about myself. I was always having to think about someone else. And, not because anyone was forcing me to, but because I have this deep, deep, concern or sort of attachment—attachment I think it is—to someone else. I feel like I was born into a, I don't know, an unhealthy relationship.
We seemed to be on two opposite ends of a spectrum where, when we were teenagers, Lucy seemed to be pretty sure of what she liked and have a pretty strong sense of her identity in a way.
I was down the other end of the spectrum where I had no idea what I liked. I honestly, I couldn't pick something for lunch without seeing what Lucy wanted to get first. Or I couldn't pick a piece of clothing because I only saw the world for her. I didn't know how to see it from my own perspective.
Over time, Lucy became quite... she had a lot of issues with depression, and just struggling as some teenagers do, I guess. But I sort of beared that weight so, so heavily on me, and I just couldn't live. I couldn't live. I just, my day-to-day was worrying about her and trying my hardest to make her happy, which of course, you learn over time you can't make anyone else happy. But I was only 16. I would do anything I could to make her happy, and in the process, I basically became a martyr and neglected my own development, my own interests. I, I just couldn't live without her and her being happy.
My constant worrying and concern for her—because she sort of feels the same way that I do, in a way—it caused her so much pain because she could see that I was just, this weird shell of a person who was trying so hard to fix her, but she just wanted me to be independent. And if I could have just been independent, then she actually probably would've been fine to work her way out of whatever she was going through.
I suppose, when I think about it, I think about couples who've been together for a long time and maybe have developed some unhealthy behavioral patterns, and over time they become so used to these patterns that they don't know how to be—if their partner left them, they would really have to start from scratch. I feel like I was in a relationship like that, but from a very early age when my brain hadn't even fully developed yet.
I would clean her room to the finest degree. I would buy her gifts. When we got a bit older into our twenties and I had a job, I would buy her things that I would never buy for myself, you know? But I'd save up and buy these things for Lucy because I felt like they'd just make her happy.
So I'd clean and clean and clean and gift and gift and gift and probably try and give advice that I felt would help, which is probably controlling her behaviors as well. So in a way, it's really controlling on one side. In the other side, it was really caring because I just wanted her to be okay. And that was the only way that I really knew how. But of course it ended up suffocating her and making her feel guilty because she was receiving all these things and I wasn't doing anything for myself.
I really struggled to be my own person. And so through my twenties I worked really, really hard on trying to discover who I actually was without her.
Rachel: What was it like when you were alone? Were you just purely focused on Lucy? Did you ever think about Emma?
Emma: No. In fact, when I was about 22, Lucy was the one who sort of encouraged me, but she was just like, you know, you have to start to be your own person. And I felt shame, real shame around it. I could not think of myself as an independent person in the world without feeling a sense of huge embarrassment and yeah, shame, which is bizarre to me now.
But if anyone even said that question that you just asked me, how do you feel when you're alone, just with Emma? I would just be so mortified. I just couldn't do it. I really, really struggled to see myself as an individual person in the world.
It was probably, a sense of being alone, but also weirdly a sense of being under the magnifying glass, but on my own, without someone beside me. Because even though I struggled with being compared my whole life, I also had someone next to me who I could always bounce off. I shared it with someone. And so the moment that I was left to try and work things out on my own, I felt very unsafe.
All very serious. But it was very heavy, heavy feelings when I was younger. And luckily I've worked through that and I don't feel that heavy weight anymore, but it was, it was really difficult.
We always got on really well in the sense that we enjoyed all the same things. We played a lot of sport and we did that together. We had friends who we all sort of shared in the same group. But I know that we fought a lot and I know that most of the time it was probably just because we were each trying to constantly maybe control each other or help each other.
And it was just this strange balance of really struggling to be together, but really struggling to be without each other as well. In social friend dynamic groups, it was hard at times because we loved having all the same friends and it was really good, but then we would really struggle if for whatever reason we ended up having to be paired off together within friendship groups. It was this feeling of isolation from friends as a pair.
I think that we actually did really well at school. We went to a large school, so we went to the same school for high school, but it was a really big school so we were in different classes, had different friendship groups. And so we were able to find that balance that we weren't able to earlier on when we were at different schools, of being able to see each other, be friends with each other, but then also have our own friendship groups to go back to, which was actually really good.
Rachel: Do you remember feeling different within your separate space versus your shared space? Did your sense of yourself or your behavior, or your sense of your body change depending on whether or not you were in a space that was shared with your sister?
Emma: I don't think it did because I think that even when I was in a space without her, I was always thinking about her. I was always, I never used to sit and... I've heard sometimes twins feel this beautiful freedom when they're away from their twin or this kind of feeling of like, caged in without them.
And I think sometimes that happens to one twin and not the other. And I think I definitely fall onto the side of the one that I felt the moment I was away from her, I was still thinking about her all the time and what she might like and what she might need. I'd never sat with myself and as I said, just saw myself in the world as an individual. I just did not know how to do that. So it wasn't something that came into my brain until I was about 22.
Rachel: What changed?
Emma: Some hard words from my sister and I guess a little bit of a self discovery journey, which, was mainly initiated again by her, and a lot of discomfort for probably two years. And then very slowly, so slowly that I probably can't even put a finger on it, it was like being a child, sort of growing up from the age of 22. I started to actually just stop and look at things and think, okay, I know that Lucy would love that, but would I love it too?
It was almost forced from Lucy and out of love, and I'm so, so grateful that she did it. But she, she just started saying, no, you can't do this for me. You can't think about me like that. You have to start seeing yourself instead.
I think it actually probably changed though when I did have a relationship, with a boy that truly saw me as me. And so I had someone who would talk to me as Emma and tell me all the things about Emma that were unique or whatever it is. And I think that's probably when I started to shift a little bit into maybe getting a glimpse of seeing myself as me.
I did go to a psychologist and tried to explain it and I think, they were like, what is going on here? But even just going through that process of having to sit in so much discomfort next to a stranger and try and talk about this stuff or the way that I saw myself, I think that that slowly unfolded to me being able to continue talking about myself. It gave myself a little bit of freedom to actually just be myself. But it was excruciating, the process.
Rachel: I think it's telling that being in a relationship with someone was one of the first opportunities for you to really see yourself reflected as an individual. Did those feelings of shame or mortification come up at all?
Emma: When I was in a relationship, I then had another person by my side. And so maybe I still didn't have to think about myself truly as an individual if I had a partner by side. But one thing I do remember is that, for example, any gift that a partner would give me, clothing or anything, I would just be like, “Oh, great, thanks I love it.” And I look back and I'm like, I would've hated that. But I just, I had no idea of what I did like and what I didn't like.
I was just, you like blue? Ok cool. I like blue. You like dinosaurs? Yep. I like dinosaurs. And then when we were older, I just didn't have a brain to think for myself. it was obviously there, but I just didn't allow it in at all because it made me feel unsafe. I don't remember feeling that feeling of, embarrassment or that feeling of feeling truly alone within the relationships that I had when I was younger. All I remember is feeling safe with someone else. I was comfortable with someone else and not comfortable on my own.
But I've since had a lot of time on my own as a single person, and so I feel like I really worked through that. But that came later.
We were living together or we were living in the same town until about the age of probably when I started to be able to do my own thing about the age of 21. I moved away with my boyfriend at the time to the other side of Australia. And from then on, we had pretty much 10 years where we didn't live in the same place. it was good and bad because I would worry about her probably when I did not need to worry about it. But because I might talk to her when she was having a bad day or something like this, I would catastrophize the situation and, and really, really worry about her.
But in saying that, I think that was probably a crucial, a really important time in our lives. Cause we had 10 years of being in the world as our own people. I do remember having fun, but I remember also feeling a big. weight of worry. Like I still with me carried this sense of responsibility and, you know, we would still talk on the phone every single day, probably twice a day.
Sometimes I wonder if, yeah, maybe that is the same type of feeling that parents have when a child leaves home and you have to go back to living your own life. But you're constantly thinking about, if you were to talk on the phone to your child and maybe they were having a bad day, maybe there's that same feeling of attachment. I'm not sure because I'm not a parent, but it feels so, so deep.
I even remember when I was probably, I was in preschool, so we would've been three or four and I remember feeling very exposed and sitting in a playground with her, but feeling worried for her.
Rachel: Which one of you is older?
Emma: Me.
Rachel: How much older are you?
Emma: I think we're about 45 minutes apart. So quite a, a while. Maybe I was worried about her still in the womb. I don't know.
I was always asked the question, who's older? Who's older, who's older? So I knew that I was older and maybe that that developed a sense of responsibility. I sometimes wonder, how would it have been if I wasn't told that I was older? Or how would it have been if we weren't told that we were even identical? Maybe that would've changed things. I'm not sure.
I feel like I've painted a really sad, bad picture, but it was actually—there are a lot of good things to it as well. But I do think that I have grown up really truly feeling that it's a blessing and a curse. It's not felt like I'm the luckiest person in the world to have a twin beside me.
I've felt like it has caused a lot of discomfort and a very heavy weight on me throughout my life. And so it annoys me when people are like, “Oh, you're so lucky. You're a twin. I would love to be a twin. Oh my god, if I had twins, I'd dress them the same.” And I'm like, “Oh, absolutely not.” Which I think has sometimes made me feel inadequate as well because I'm like, oh, I should be loving this, you know, it seems to be, or maybe it's just made me feel isolated. I felt quite isolated because I feel like I don't fit the, stereotype probably of what being a twin should be. And then, that leads to guilt because I'm like, I love my sister so, so much, but I also hate being a twin.
One of my good friends has identical twin sisters who are three years younger than us. And I feel like their experience of being a twin is so different to ours. And I think a lot comes down to personality type. Lucy and I have a similar personality type and unfortunately it's just not really conducive with being two people who look the same and walk around in the world the same. So I think that we have struggled in places where I definitely know that these two haven't, and I'm sure that they've probably struggled in places where we have had no issue. We've never had issues with competitiveness or, sometimes I hear people talk about that sort of stuff. It's never been an issue for us. I think we've always had each other's interests at hand and, and really wanted the best for each other.
If she was to succeed and I wasn't, there'd be a little bit of feeling disappointed, but I'd at least be happy that she had made it. It's a strange dynamic of, if I was to succeed in an area that she wasn't able to, I would be the one holding a whole lot of sadness for her. And maybe guilt that I was the one who was succeeding. So, I think sometimes the burden is put on the one that succeeds rather than the one who doesn't.
Rachel: So I know that you're both in the healthcare profession. Can you talk a bit about how you found your way there, and what that was like given you were struggling with knowing yourself and what you wanted?
Emma: I was always drawn to the work that I do. From about the age of 14, I, was like, I'd like to be a paramedic. In saying that, I do sometimes look back now and I think, what if I'd felt like I had access to being able to enjoy other things? I don't know that I would've chosen this path or been so set on it because there are other things that I enjoyed as well. But I didn't feel like they were accessible to me.
SoI'm not sure if my reason for being so set on where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do was because I truly knew what I wanted, or whether it was based as well, because there were certain things that I would steer clear of because I knew that they were Lucy's domain.
I mean, it's so hard, isn't it? Who else has to think so deeply about the decisions in their life that they've made and the paths that they've chosen and why it could be and why not? Like, consider everything. Why did I do that? Is it because it's been compared? Because my whole life has just been analyzed. I guess that's how it's felt. I've constantly made my decisions based to some degree on another person's.
I mean it's interesting that we did both end up in healthcare because again, I think, well, if we were separated at birth, maybe we would be doing exactly the same thing.
Rachel: What's really interesting is the studies that show that when twins are separate, they actually behave more alike than when they're together.
Emma: Yep. I totally understand that. Because they have the freedom to just like what they'd like without comparing it to whether it's the right thing or the wrong thing, or should be the same, or shouldn't be the same, you know?
I think we were both very creative children, very creative. And then as I grew up I thought, creativity is Lucy's thing. And so I never really went there. And since being an adult, she's been the one who's pointed out, actually you are really good at this you know, you are creative in this way or you are feminine in this way. And so I think that I've developed a sense of creativity within myself and also a real sense of, my feminine side as well over time.
Rachel: You later in life met your half sister. I know in our earlier conversation you had mentioned really longing for another sibling. I was wondering if you could just talk a little bit about that feeling and then what it was like to actually form a relationship with another sibling.
Emma: That was life changing really, for me and Lucy. I think growing up as a twin, I was aware of the fact that our relationship was different to a normal sibling relationship. And I think I did just yearn for, a sibling relationship that didn't feel so intense.
I felt like if there were three, everyone would be their own person. And honestly, that's how it felt. The moment we flew over to America and we met her and it was so beautiful because, I mean, she was a, essentially a stranger. We'd been emailing and so we knew about one another. And from the moment we saw her, it was like, it was just like the missing piece.
And sometimes I think, oh, I just wish I could have grown up with her there as well. Because she immediately sees us as individuals, and so she will direct a question at Emma or Lucy and it's like all of a sudden we're on the same level. It felt like balance and, and a suddenly a bit of freedom.
Rachel: How would you say that now your relationship and your identity as a twin, even though it's been complicated throughout your life‚— what's your outlook right now?
Emma: I feel incredibly lucky to have, a person in my life who knows me so well, and I'm able to now enjoy a little more the things that I suppose everyone growing up told me I should be enjoying. Like having a best friend, having someone who's always there for you and all this sort of stuff. I really value that now and I'm able to be more comfortable with it. In saying that, I still bear weight, I will always, I guess I just bear the weight of that relationship and, my... just deep, deep empathy towards her.
Honestly, if someone said to me, would you prefer to not be a twin? I probably would say yes. And that comes out of love for her as well, because I think we probably both would. Yeah, I love her and I love being her person in the world, but I still feel like I'd probably be happier if, if she was my sister and I didn't have the weight of being an identical twin.
Rachel: This is a question I like to ask at the end. When do you feel most like yourself?
Emma: Probably when I am with my partner. Or my very, very good friends, which include Lucy. In a place where I feel, that I'm very present. So whether that is on a bush walk or listening to live music or something like that. But in a place where I feel like there's absolutely no external attention on me.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Rachel: Emma, can you introduce yourself for the recording in whatever way feels comfortable to you?
Emma: I'm Emma, Emma Lake. I come from Australia, Tasmania, the little island down the bottom. I'm 34 years old and I have a twin sister called Lucy, identical twin.
My dad is from England and my mom is from New Zealand. They met in New Zealand and moved to Australia and we were born in Melbourne. We moved to Tasmania when we were about one 18 months, something like that. and then brought up in Tasmania.
We grew up in quite a small family unit. my mom and my dad and my sister and I, because mom and dad weren't from Australia, my father doesn't have a lot of family. Later in life, we met our sister. We have a sister who is I think about five years older than us. Dad was married before he and mum met, and, had a child that he never knew. She reached out to us when we were about 25. And she's from, England, but lives in LA, New York. So we flew over and met her when we were about 25. And that changed our family dynamic, I guess, or our family unit.
We had a bit of a different upbringing, I guess, in the sense that our parents separated when we were seven. And so then we lived with separated families until—we share-housed in between, we did all sorts of things, moved a lot—and then when we were 14, they got back together again. And they're still together now. So we've sort of experienced what it's like to come from that broken family unit as well as together.
There's some sort of novelty about twins or a fascination with twins. And so in a family unit of four, she was just my sister, I guess. But the moment we were in public, we were very, very shy, very self-conscious children. And I think we really struggled with being people who are sort of a novelty for other people, or people who are examined on a daily basis. And, I think that that probably contributed to us feeling pretty unconfident and shy. Because there was a lot of attention drawn to us all the time, and we struggled with that.
It's strange because, you know, these things happen when you're a child that from an adult's perspective you think, “oh, that's nothing.” But from a child's perspective, it can actually have huge impacts on the way that you identify yourself or, well—this is speaking for myself—the way that I've identified myself and the way that... issues of self-esteem and this sort of thing.
The first memory that I remember was we lived in a house in Tasmania, and there was a woman next door who just thought we were just amazing. She collected dolls and she, she just would come over and “The twins! The twins! The twins!” And she wanted to do some sort of, photo shoot with us. And, you know, I guess from a adult perspective it's like, oh, cute, little twins with dolls all around them.
But I found that to be a truly quite traumatic experience. I just, I felt so, exposed and under a magnifying glass and I didn't really understand it either. I was sort of like, why is she obsessed with us? But I just remember feelings of real discomfort, and I suppose really not wanting to be there doing that. Like I really struggled over my life with a lot of identity issues anyway, and moments like that, I suppose is when I first felt really uncomfortable.
And so when we were, about 10, we separated and went to different primary schools, because I think mom and dad were trying everything that they could to raise us with our own sense of, individuality. And it's a difficult balance because we really struggled together when we were young. And I think that that presented itself through us fighting a lot and saying that we hated each other and this sort of thing. But I don't think we ever did. I think we actually got along really well as children. So we sort of thought we want to go to different schools because we don't like each other. And then when we did go to different schools at about the age of 10, we both struggled in our own way. Because we suddenly didn't have each other next to us.
And I think my sister in particular became probably a little more shy. I dunno, there were positives and negatives. We developed our own friendship groups, which were good. And then over the years they turned into one larger friendship group, which was really a beautiful thing. but it definitely showed us that it was almost just as hard to be separated as it was to be together sometimes.
Rachel: Before you separated, you said you were struggling with the constant comparison. Can you talk a little bit about that experience?
Emma: I think that the comparisons have changed throughout our life. When we were really young, mum and dad tried to do things to make us different and one was dressing us in different colors. But then over time, I feel like it affected my sense of who I was because I was always dressed in blue—and for some reason, my interpretation of being different was that whatever Lucy liked, I had to like the opposite. And so she liked all the things that I suppose were stereotypically, feminine, like she loved, little horses and fairies and ballerinas and I, from a very young age, was dressed in blue. And I liked dinosaurs and sports and I guess just different things, anything that was opposite to her.
And there reached a stage in my life when I realized, I actually think I like the same thing she likes. But that wasn't until about 23.
When we were young, the comparisons were who's the naughty one? Who's the good one? Who's the, smart one? Who’s better and who's not?
And then as we matured, it became—there were a lot of comparisons with looks. And I think our issue with being compared was that we're we're quite deep thinkers and analytical minds. And it manifested in a really unhealthy way where we just looked at ourselves in a magnifying glass and analyzed every single feature, characteristic, everything about ourselves, and held a lot of weight on what that meant.
Lucy had a horrible boyfriend, her first one, and a lot of boys just being young—they would compare immediately our looks. And I suppose I kind of identified myself as the ugly one, which is so terrible. They would analyze, honestly, like the tiniest differences in our boobs or our facial features or our hair or the tiniest things. And I would analyze that and then come to the conclusion that I was ugly. And honestly, that stayed with me through a lot of my young adulthood. I don't think that that we ever would've been compared if I didn't have someone who looked a little bit similar to me.
And, maybe with school marks as well. I mean, we, we just weren't competitive in our nature towards each other. We were quite content being different. But then I do remember feeling again, stupid at school because maybe I wouldn't have made as good a grade as her or something like that, which is just so ridiculous. But I guess it's just that—if you don't ever have to compare yourself, then you're just you with your marks. But if you have someone constantly next to you and people are like, “Oh, who got the big mark? Who got this? Oh, she's made it into that team. You didn't,” then it's only human nature to then think, oh, well what does that mean?
A lot of those things have, disappeared now because I think that our live paths have gone in slightly different directions and over life you learn that there are hurdles and bumps in different places and there's no point comparing because where one person may have lost at one stage, then another one may pick up at at a different place.
I still definitely am used to people comparing our physical appearance constantly. Usually strangers. But it's definitely not what it used to be, and it's not in a way of success or competition or anything like that anymore. Growing up is intense.
I think that when we moved schools, I probably was a little more outgoing. but I still feel like I had no idea—and maybe this is the thing, maybe all children at the age of 12 have no idea who they are or what they like—but I think that I became a bit more of a loud, kind of, maybe, carefree kid?
I'm not quite sure if it was the same for my sister, but, I feel we are, regardless of whether we're together or apart, I feel like I was born with a sort of sense of responsibility to someone else, like a parent might have to a child. It's a sort of connection, like an unconditional love, but also a responsibility in the sense that if something's happening where she's upset or having a hard time, I feel like that weight bears down on me as well.
And maybe that's just because I'm overly empathetic, but I've really struggled with that, especially through being a teenager. I got the feeling that I couldn't be a free child or teenager because I couldn't think about myself. I was always having to think about someone else. And, not because anyone was forcing me to, but because I have this deep, deep, concern or sort of attachment—attachment I think it is—to someone else. I feel like I was born into a, I don't know, an unhealthy relationship.
We seemed to be on two opposite ends of a spectrum where, when we were teenagers, Lucy seemed to be pretty sure of what she liked and have a pretty strong sense of her identity in a way.
I was down the other end of the spectrum where I had no idea what I liked. I honestly, I couldn't pick something for lunch without seeing what Lucy wanted to get first. Or I couldn't pick a piece of clothing because I only saw the world for her. I didn't know how to see it from my own perspective.
Over time, Lucy became quite... she had a lot of issues with depression, and just struggling as some teenagers do, I guess. But I sort of beared that weight so, so heavily on me, and I just couldn't live. I couldn't live. I just, my day-to-day was worrying about her and trying my hardest to make her happy, which of course, you learn over time you can't make anyone else happy. But I was only 16. I would do anything I could to make her happy, and in the process, I basically became a martyr and neglected my own development, my own interests. I, I just couldn't live without her and her being happy.
My constant worrying and concern for her—because she sort of feels the same way that I do, in a way—it caused her so much pain because she could see that I was just, this weird shell of a person who was trying so hard to fix her, but she just wanted me to be independent. And if I could have just been independent, then she actually probably would've been fine to work her way out of whatever she was going through.
I suppose, when I think about it, I think about couples who've been together for a long time and maybe have developed some unhealthy behavioral patterns, and over time they become so used to these patterns that they don't know how to be—if their partner left them, they would really have to start from scratch. I feel like I was in a relationship like that, but from a very early age when my brain hadn't even fully developed yet.
I would clean her room to the finest degree. I would buy her gifts. When we got a bit older into our twenties and I had a job, I would buy her things that I would never buy for myself, you know? But I'd save up and buy these things for Lucy because I felt like they'd just make her happy.
So I'd clean and clean and clean and gift and gift and gift and probably try and give advice that I felt would help, which is probably controlling her behaviors as well. So in a way, it's really controlling on one side. In the other side, it was really caring because I just wanted her to be okay. And that was the only way that I really knew how. But of course it ended up suffocating her and making her feel guilty because she was receiving all these things and I wasn't doing anything for myself.
I really struggled to be my own person. And so through my twenties I worked really, really hard on trying to discover who I actually was without her.
Rachel: What was it like when you were alone? Were you just purely focused on Lucy? Did you ever think about Emma?
Emma: No. In fact, when I was about 22, Lucy was the one who sort of encouraged me, but she was just like, you know, you have to start to be your own person. And I felt shame, real shame around it. I could not think of myself as an independent person in the world without feeling a sense of huge embarrassment and yeah, shame, which is bizarre to me now.
But if anyone even said that question that you just asked me, how do you feel when you're alone, just with Emma? I would just be so mortified. I just couldn't do it. I really, really struggled to see myself as an individual person in the world.
It was probably, a sense of being alone, but also weirdly a sense of being under the magnifying glass, but on my own, without someone beside me. Because even though I struggled with being compared my whole life, I also had someone next to me who I could always bounce off. I shared it with someone. And so the moment that I was left to try and work things out on my own, I felt very unsafe.
All very serious. But it was very heavy, heavy feelings when I was younger. And luckily I've worked through that and I don't feel that heavy weight anymore, but it was, it was really difficult.
We always got on really well in the sense that we enjoyed all the same things. We played a lot of sport and we did that together. We had friends who we all sort of shared in the same group. But I know that we fought a lot and I know that most of the time it was probably just because we were each trying to constantly maybe control each other or help each other.
And it was just this strange balance of really struggling to be together, but really struggling to be without each other as well. In social friend dynamic groups, it was hard at times because we loved having all the same friends and it was really good, but then we would really struggle if for whatever reason we ended up having to be paired off together within friendship groups. It was this feeling of isolation from friends as a pair.
I think that we actually did really well at school. We went to a large school, so we went to the same school for high school, but it was a really big school so we were in different classes, had different friendship groups. And so we were able to find that balance that we weren't able to earlier on when we were at different schools, of being able to see each other, be friends with each other, but then also have our own friendship groups to go back to, which was actually really good.
Rachel: Do you remember feeling different within your separate space versus your shared space? Did your sense of yourself or your behavior, or your sense of your body change depending on whether or not you were in a space that was shared with your sister?
Emma: I don't think it did because I think that even when I was in a space without her, I was always thinking about her. I was always, I never used to sit and... I've heard sometimes twins feel this beautiful freedom when they're away from their twin or this kind of feeling of like, caged in without them.
And I think sometimes that happens to one twin and not the other. And I think I definitely fall onto the side of the one that I felt the moment I was away from her, I was still thinking about her all the time and what she might like and what she might need. I'd never sat with myself and as I said, just saw myself in the world as an individual. I just did not know how to do that. So it wasn't something that came into my brain until I was about 22.
Rachel: What changed?
Emma: Some hard words from my sister and I guess a little bit of a self discovery journey, which, was mainly initiated again by her, and a lot of discomfort for probably two years. And then very slowly, so slowly that I probably can't even put a finger on it, it was like being a child, sort of growing up from the age of 22. I started to actually just stop and look at things and think, okay, I know that Lucy would love that, but would I love it too?
It was almost forced from Lucy and out of love, and I'm so, so grateful that she did it. But she, she just started saying, no, you can't do this for me. You can't think about me like that. You have to start seeing yourself instead.
I think it actually probably changed though when I did have a relationship, with a boy that truly saw me as me. And so I had someone who would talk to me as Emma and tell me all the things about Emma that were unique or whatever it is. And I think that's probably when I started to shift a little bit into maybe getting a glimpse of seeing myself as me.
I did go to a psychologist and tried to explain it and I think, they were like, what is going on here? But even just going through that process of having to sit in so much discomfort next to a stranger and try and talk about this stuff or the way that I saw myself, I think that that slowly unfolded to me being able to continue talking about myself. It gave myself a little bit of freedom to actually just be myself. But it was excruciating, the process.
Rachel: I think it's telling that being in a relationship with someone was one of the first opportunities for you to really see yourself reflected as an individual. Did those feelings of shame or mortification come up at all?
Emma: When I was in a relationship, I then had another person by my side. And so maybe I still didn't have to think about myself truly as an individual if I had a partner by side. But one thing I do remember is that, for example, any gift that a partner would give me, clothing or anything, I would just be like, “Oh, great, thanks I love it.” And I look back and I'm like, I would've hated that. But I just, I had no idea of what I did like and what I didn't like.
I was just, you like blue? Ok cool. I like blue. You like dinosaurs? Yep. I like dinosaurs. And then when we were older, I just didn't have a brain to think for myself. it was obviously there, but I just didn't allow it in at all because it made me feel unsafe. I don't remember feeling that feeling of, embarrassment or that feeling of feeling truly alone within the relationships that I had when I was younger. All I remember is feeling safe with someone else. I was comfortable with someone else and not comfortable on my own.
But I've since had a lot of time on my own as a single person, and so I feel like I really worked through that. But that came later.
We were living together or we were living in the same town until about the age of probably when I started to be able to do my own thing about the age of 21. I moved away with my boyfriend at the time to the other side of Australia. And from then on, we had pretty much 10 years where we didn't live in the same place. it was good and bad because I would worry about her probably when I did not need to worry about it. But because I might talk to her when she was having a bad day or something like this, I would catastrophize the situation and, and really, really worry about her.
But in saying that, I think that was probably a crucial, a really important time in our lives. Cause we had 10 years of being in the world as our own people. I do remember having fun, but I remember also feeling a big. weight of worry. Like I still with me carried this sense of responsibility and, you know, we would still talk on the phone every single day, probably twice a day.
Sometimes I wonder if, yeah, maybe that is the same type of feeling that parents have when a child leaves home and you have to go back to living your own life. But you're constantly thinking about, if you were to talk on the phone to your child and maybe they were having a bad day, maybe there's that same feeling of attachment. I'm not sure because I'm not a parent, but it feels so, so deep.
I even remember when I was probably, I was in preschool, so we would've been three or four and I remember feeling very exposed and sitting in a playground with her, but feeling worried for her.
Rachel: Which one of you is older?
Emma: Me.
Rachel: How much older are you?
Emma: I think we're about 45 minutes apart. So quite a, a while. Maybe I was worried about her still in the womb. I don't know.
I was always asked the question, who's older? Who's older, who's older? So I knew that I was older and maybe that that developed a sense of responsibility. I sometimes wonder, how would it have been if I wasn't told that I was older? Or how would it have been if we weren't told that we were even identical? Maybe that would've changed things. I'm not sure.
I feel like I've painted a really sad, bad picture, but it was actually—there are a lot of good things to it as well. But I do think that I have grown up really truly feeling that it's a blessing and a curse. It's not felt like I'm the luckiest person in the world to have a twin beside me.
I've felt like it has caused a lot of discomfort and a very heavy weight on me throughout my life. And so it annoys me when people are like, “Oh, you're so lucky. You're a twin. I would love to be a twin. Oh my god, if I had twins, I'd dress them the same.” And I'm like, “Oh, absolutely not.” Which I think has sometimes made me feel inadequate as well because I'm like, oh, I should be loving this, you know, it seems to be, or maybe it's just made me feel isolated. I felt quite isolated because I feel like I don't fit the, stereotype probably of what being a twin should be. And then, that leads to guilt because I'm like, I love my sister so, so much, but I also hate being a twin.
One of my good friends has identical twin sisters who are three years younger than us. And I feel like their experience of being a twin is so different to ours. And I think a lot comes down to personality type. Lucy and I have a similar personality type and unfortunately it's just not really conducive with being two people who look the same and walk around in the world the same. So I think that we have struggled in places where I definitely know that these two haven't, and I'm sure that they've probably struggled in places where we have had no issue. We've never had issues with competitiveness or, sometimes I hear people talk about that sort of stuff. It's never been an issue for us. I think we've always had each other's interests at hand and, and really wanted the best for each other.
If she was to succeed and I wasn't, there'd be a little bit of feeling disappointed, but I'd at least be happy that she had made it. It's a strange dynamic of, if I was to succeed in an area that she wasn't able to, I would be the one holding a whole lot of sadness for her. And maybe guilt that I was the one who was succeeding. So, I think sometimes the burden is put on the one that succeeds rather than the one who doesn't.
Rachel: So I know that you're both in the healthcare profession. Can you talk a bit about how you found your way there, and what that was like given you were struggling with knowing yourself and what you wanted?
Emma: I was always drawn to the work that I do. From about the age of 14, I, was like, I'd like to be a paramedic. In saying that, I do sometimes look back now and I think, what if I'd felt like I had access to being able to enjoy other things? I don't know that I would've chosen this path or been so set on it because there are other things that I enjoyed as well. But I didn't feel like they were accessible to me.
SoI'm not sure if my reason for being so set on where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do was because I truly knew what I wanted, or whether it was based as well, because there were certain things that I would steer clear of because I knew that they were Lucy's domain.
I mean, it's so hard, isn't it? Who else has to think so deeply about the decisions in their life that they've made and the paths that they've chosen and why it could be and why not? Like, consider everything. Why did I do that? Is it because it's been compared? Because my whole life has just been analyzed. I guess that's how it's felt. I've constantly made my decisions based to some degree on another person's.
I mean it's interesting that we did both end up in healthcare because again, I think, well, if we were separated at birth, maybe we would be doing exactly the same thing.
Rachel: What's really interesting is the studies that show that when twins are separate, they actually behave more alike than when they're together.
Emma: Yep. I totally understand that. Because they have the freedom to just like what they'd like without comparing it to whether it's the right thing or the wrong thing, or should be the same, or shouldn't be the same, you know?
I think we were both very creative children, very creative. And then as I grew up I thought, creativity is Lucy's thing. And so I never really went there. And since being an adult, she's been the one who's pointed out, actually you are really good at this you know, you are creative in this way or you are feminine in this way. And so I think that I've developed a sense of creativity within myself and also a real sense of, my feminine side as well over time.
Rachel: You later in life met your half sister. I know in our earlier conversation you had mentioned really longing for another sibling. I was wondering if you could just talk a little bit about that feeling and then what it was like to actually form a relationship with another sibling.
Emma: That was life changing really, for me and Lucy. I think growing up as a twin, I was aware of the fact that our relationship was different to a normal sibling relationship. And I think I did just yearn for, a sibling relationship that didn't feel so intense.
I felt like if there were three, everyone would be their own person. And honestly, that's how it felt. The moment we flew over to America and we met her and it was so beautiful because, I mean, she was a, essentially a stranger. We'd been emailing and so we knew about one another. And from the moment we saw her, it was like, it was just like the missing piece.
And sometimes I think, oh, I just wish I could have grown up with her there as well. Because she immediately sees us as individuals, and so she will direct a question at Emma or Lucy and it's like all of a sudden we're on the same level. It felt like balance and, and a suddenly a bit of freedom.
Rachel: How would you say that now your relationship and your identity as a twin, even though it's been complicated throughout your life‚— what's your outlook right now?
Emma: I feel incredibly lucky to have, a person in my life who knows me so well, and I'm able to now enjoy a little more the things that I suppose everyone growing up told me I should be enjoying. Like having a best friend, having someone who's always there for you and all this sort of stuff. I really value that now and I'm able to be more comfortable with it. In saying that, I still bear weight, I will always, I guess I just bear the weight of that relationship and, my... just deep, deep empathy towards her.
Honestly, if someone said to me, would you prefer to not be a twin? I probably would say yes. And that comes out of love for her as well, because I think we probably both would. Yeah, I love her and I love being her person in the world, but I still feel like I'd probably be happier if, if she was my sister and I didn't have the weight of being an identical twin.
Rachel: This is a question I like to ask at the end. When do you feel most like yourself?
Emma: Probably when I am with my partner. Or my very, very good friends, which include Lucy. In a place where I feel, that I'm very present. So whether that is on a bush walk or listening to live music or something like that. But in a place where I feel like there's absolutely no external attention on me.
Lucy, Emma’s twin, was also interviewed. Listen here.
