A Conversation with My Brother

On 09/17/08 I spoke to my brother–the one who just recently left his wife–the outcast–as some family members see him. He called to ask if my email address was still the same one because he wanted to share a photo album from a current trip he and his—wow, what do I call her? I don’t want to say girlfriend because that sounds to juvenile, so I guess I will just say his partner. Anyway, they took a trip to Mt. Rushmore and he said it was so amazing. So I gave him my new email address. He asked how I was doing, how I liked my job. I told him I am finally settling in to my new place and that I really like my job. Then I shared with him my last conversation with mom. I summarized it and told him he could read about it in my blog. I asked him how he was doing and he shared that just recently memories from childhood have begun to surface. He said he’s been talking with his partner about this and that sometimes he just breaks down and cries. When he said this it made me sad for him, but at the same time happy. Not happy that he is experiencing emotional pain, of course, but that he is "waking up". I first heard this expression used in this context years ago when I was in my late 30's from a woman doctor who I’d gone to see for female health problems. During the course of the exam she asked about my emotional health. (Funny how only women doctors–and not all of them either–take this into consideration when seeing women patients). Anyway, so I shared with her that I was in early recovery and attending a spiritual women’s weekly meeting, and getting therapy. I told her how a lot of memories and issues from my childhood were surfacing. I remember telling her that I felt like I was a gaping wound, oozing nothing but pain that seemed to come from my core, and that I was constantly crying. When I said this her eyes lit up and smiling she said, "That’s wonderful! You’re waking up!" She explained what she meant, that in order to move ahead in my healing and recovery (not just alcoholism, but child abuse as well) this resurfacing of painful childhood memories and experiences is common. We had a real good talk about how the recovery and healing process works. From that point on I kept her words close in my heart and her wise workds helped make the emotional pain feel good somehow because I knew that going through the pain would take me to a better place in my emotional and inner life. And that’s how I feel about my brother. He is on his journey of healing and true recovery. If fact, he said he had realized he'd been in denial all those years. He is right, he was. I saw it, it was the denial that made him be so unapproachable, so angry, and so cold and unfeeling. He was so unhappy and his unhappiness affected his relationships with everyone in the family. I observed that only with his friends at work he was able to let go and laugh and joke and be nice. In fact, this always angered me because I felt he was being so hypocritical and that if his friends only knew the "real" him. How sad, now I look back and perhaps the "real" him was the person he was able to be only with his friends.

I only remember him being genuinely happy at one time in our young lives when we were all living in that chaotic, abusive, unloving, emotionally stiffling, alcoholic environment in which we grew up. We were all so scared of my father’s drunken episodes. The unhappiness, tension and fear were so strong that you really could have cut it with a knife. This one incident that I remember from back then involved the woman he is currently with—life has a funny and sometimes great way of making a complete circle. He was in high school and I believe it was his last year in high school. He was taking drama and he became involved in the production of the school plays. And he was actually quite good at acting. The first time saw him up there in the stage, I kept thinking how brave it was of him to be able to do that in front of all those people. So that’s how he met her. She became his first girlfriend. I remember when he told us how he met her in the drama class and they were going steady and that she was going to play his mother in one of the plays. It was apparent that he was so happy. He was so excited too about the plays and we all went to see the opening night of one play, I don't remember if it was "Up the Down Stair Case" or another play they both were in. He introduced us to his girlfriend and his face was beaming with pride and joy. I remember her being short and little plump and very pretty. She seemed very warm and friendly, and she had a beautiful smile. I took a liking to her immediately, although I don't remember ever having any thing to do with her after that.

On the night of the final play, the class had a celebration and of course he attended. I remember that night my father kept pacing back and forth, looking at the clock and cursing saying it was late and where the hell was he. I could feel the tension and anger in my father building as each minute went by and being so afraid for my brother. I seem to remember it being like 10:00 pm and wondering why my father was so upset because it didn’t seem that late to me. I also remember thinking how doomed we all were because if my father was so angry over my brother being late because he was attending such an important high school celebration, then we girls had nothing to look forward to as far as being able to socialize with our friends at school functions. I remember feeling so sad for my brother because–and this is sad to say, but that was my mentality back then–it seemed that being girls it was somehow more understandable to me that my father would be so strict with us, but I felt that my brother, being a boy, should have had at least more liberties. And actually he had been given more lead way than us girls, but that night as my father kept pacing back and forth, he was saying, "This is bullshit, if he’s gonna be out this late because of those plays then he’d better just stop." I don’t really remember what time it was when my brother finally came home, but I would wager to say it was 11:00ish. I, being always so observant, watched as he entered. My father was waiting for him. My brother’s face was lit up with joy. He was smiling and I could see in his eyes total happiness......until my father spoke his first words to him. My brother’s face just seemed to slowly collapse as did his whole demeanor. The light was gone in seconds from his eyes and his smile died slowly and he just stood there with his dreams crushed, his accomplishments in his drama class totally discounted. My father was telling him that if his participation in this drama class meant he would be coming home this late, then he’d better starting thinking about dropping that class. I just kept thinking, but why? what was so wrong about him coming home late (if you call 11:00 pm late for a high school senior!) Especially because of something so important to him and something that was school related to boot! I was sad for myself too as I observed and listened, I gave up all hope of ever being able to do anything with my own friends.

After that night I don’t remember him mentioning his girlfriend again and then I remember that they broke up. I don’t know how long they went steady or how or why they ended it, but in my mind I made up a possible reason. I felt that perhaps they broke up soon after that night. I thought that perhaps she did not want to date a boy who could not go out like other boys, who could not take her on dates like other boys, who felt guilty doing anything like other boys. I may be wrong, but that’s what I have thought all these years. So now, years later, here he is again with his first girlfriend now in his life once again, but this time they are adults. This time there is no abusive father keeping him from seeing her. The one thing that was standing in his way was his marriage and his sons, but he has made his decision to leave them and start with his now partner where they left off so many years ago. Is he right or is he wrong in doing this? I am not in any position to judge that, and neither should anyone else for that matter, except for his wife and kids, but I can only speak for myself. All I know is that life is too short and I, for one, will be damned if I live it according to what other people think is right for me.

I have told him I will not turn my back on him as so many family members have done simply for making the decision to leave his wife. We have also talked about all the old hurts from the past and I have told them that all those hurt feelings are in the past. Like I have stated before in previous posts, his life choices are his own to make and I can not say he is right or that he is wrong. All I know is that he has met me half way, he read the letter I wrote him years ago in which I told him how I felt in the past due to his treatment of me and my son. He never once flat out denied any of the things I mentioned in the letter. He didn’t react in anger. He didn’t retaliate in another way. And his attitude and behavior toward me changed for the positive after that letter. The only thing he did say was that he did not really remember doing all those things and that if in any way he had hurt me or my son, he was truly sorry. I think this is the closet he could come at that time to acknowledging his actions and behaviors, and that was enough for me. At one point I did declare him an outcast in my life. At least to those close to me, I never said anything to him about it. I just decided to have nothing to do with him. And now with each conversation, I think I understand him a little better, and most importantly, I think he understands me a little better too.

Yesterday (10/01/08) my heart felt like bursting with love for all my siblings. I pictured them all in my mind, one by one, and my eyes filled with tears for all of us.....for having to have lived the life we lived with our parents. I tried to feel their individual pain and suffering and I loved them and held them tight in my heart. Then I pictured my parents........and I felt their pain as well. Except for my father’s actions toward my young nephew, which I can not fully understand enough to totally forgive, I know they did do the best they could with what they knew. How ironic that mom tried so hard all her life to get us to embrace the Catholic religion as zealously as she has, yet I just wish she would put into practice some of the most important beliefs of her religion, which are forgiveness and not to stand in judgement of others. It saddens me that she uses her religion to her own benefit only, just like so many people. Oh, well, that is her decision and she is entitled to it, but then so are we, my brother and I, entitled to our own choices in our own lives.