Backstroke & Breakthroughs – Post #4
Being the middle child in a big family means you learn early how to listen, how to adapt, and how to find your voice—because if you don’t, it’s easy to get lost in the noise.
But my story as a middle child has layers. You see, some of my siblings were adopted by my grandma —not because she had to, but because she chose to love harder. That kind of love doesn’t make headlines, but it makes homes. It’s what taught me that family isn’t about blood, it’s about bond. And that love, when it’s real, is expansive. It reaches, protects, and makes space where space didn’t exist before.
I remember a day in middle school when one of my younger siblings was being picked on for how they looked and talked. I didn’t think twice. I stepped in, stood up, and made it clear they weren’t alone. That wasn’t just about being a big brother. It was about community. When you stand up for your people, even in small moments, you show them they’re worth protecting. You turn your household into a tribe.
Still, growing up in a blended home has its complexities. As a kid, you sometimes wonder where you truly belong. That feeling doesn’t always get spoken out loud. But it lingers. The truth is, being adopted can make you feel chosen and out of place at the same time. That’s real. And it’s why showing up for one another—consistently, loudly, matters so much.
And that’s what we were. A noisy, beautiful, patched-together tribe. And being the one in the middle? It taught me how to hold the center. How to translate chaos into connection. How to bridge gaps.
This week’s takeaway:
Love doesn’t need a matching last name to be real. And sometimes, the strongest bonds are built when you show up, speak up, and stand guard for the ones the world might overlook.Until next time,
– J.R.
Brufay 
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