Benjamin

  Back in the days..............     
  Ben and I, camping, enjoying hot chocolate with our trusted BB guns.                                                                                                                                           Siblings. I've observed how many of my friends have evolved within their own family structure to elevate what was once a pesky sister or brother, to that of friendship, closeness, family. I meander around online journals, reading of family bonds, sisterly and brotherly ties.

One amazing example is a journal I can't get enough of by Jtuwliens, Judith at Mirror, Mirror on the Wall/jtuwliens   . The bonds she shares with her twin sister, Julie, is just inspiring, fascinating, heartwarming and frankly precious, especially to someone like me.

       I have a brother. It's a rarity I mention it, it's odd to even write that. He is two years younger then I and we have no relationship to speak of. A honest me, will have to say, however bad it sounds, that I have chosen a long time ago, not to include him in my life.

       I have a legitimate reason, I really do, and I'll get to it. I saw my brother this week for the first time since Christmas Eve of 2003. So naturally he's been on my mind and I think an entry is in order to release some of my thoughts. My brother was always a strange duck. Growing up with him was challenging a lot of the time. He had many learning disorders, social skills weren't similar to most mainstream humans, 1 plus 1 equaled 2 in my world, in his world it meant 5 and he would come out fists flailing to prove it. By the time he got to high school he found sanctuary in the name of drugs and alcohol.

       But didn't a lot of us? I had my 2 years 9 months of crazy party, have fun, antics and thankfully I came out alive and healthy. My brother on the other hand, used drugs and alcohol for his personal escape from his ADHD, social disorders, low self esteem, etc., etc.......you name it, at least one doctor diagnosed him with it.

       My poor parents. Beaver Cleaver kind of parents. Never smoked anything in their life, drinking wasn't something we ever saw them do growing up, they were stable, simple people who ended up with a teenage daughter who took parting with friends over the top for a few years, and a son who had disorders in every direction and eventually made their lives hell.

       By the time Ben, my brother, was about 20 he had took to drinking like a fish in water. He elevated himself to alcoholic status in no time flat. This is when I truly believe I started loosing him as a brother. To understand his level of alcoholism, you need the cold hard facts. He would steal, pawn, take anything of value in order to get his alcohol. He would drink and drive without regard to life at hand. He managed to get 3 drunk driving tickets <stealing my parents cars> by the time he was 21. Thankfully, the worst he ever did was take out someone's fence. He was reduced to a bicycle by the time he was 21, lost his license for 9 years, spent a good amount of time in jail, etc., etc.........He was still living at my parents house. I HATED that.

       He is a mean drunk. Uncontrollable mean. My parents tried to help him. If I knew the true amount of money my parents put into his rehabilitation, courts, lawyers, fines, bus passes and bicycles <remember, he'd just pawn his bike if he needed money> doctors, counselors, I bet they are still paying it off. They had to put a dead bolt lock on their bedroom door to keep them locked away from him if he was on a binge drunk.

       I hated it. I would go over there and beg my parents to kick him out, send him to live under the bridgeby the river in town, I didn't care,I just couldn't stand to see them live like that in their own home. It was my Mother, as I imagine all Mothers would, who held on, trying to help him, bring him back from the hell he had placed himself.

       Two very defining moments triggered the final move out. First, my Father was in Germany for a month <he's military> and my Mother was alone with my brother. He was on one of his drunk binges and called the police at 2 in the morning, to inform them he had a gun, was going upstairs to kill my Mother, then himself. Talk about a cry for help to stop him. The police swat teamed my parents house, found my Mothers bedroom window, broke it and drug her out of her sleep to the outside. They could see my Brother through the basement window on his bed with a pistol in his mouth. He never made a move to go upstairs to fulfill what he had told the police on the phone, and eventually fell asleep with the gun beside him. That got him 4 months in the crazy ward.

       Next came release, and where does he go. A plan was formed, my parents bought him a little trailer house, far from their home, and when he got out, he could go there and live his life of alcoholism. There ended up being a 3 week span between release from the ward, and move in date. Yes, they let him come home to stay. It was Thanksgiving, he hadn't drunk for months, he swore he wouldn't drink....ya ya....same old story. Thanksgiving he started drinking, and by that Sunday he was out of control again. A fight ensued, threats were made, police came again....back to jail this time after giving the police one hell of a manhunt chase.

       I was the one who picked him up from jail, took him to his new home, dropped him off and said "have a good life." It took five years for him to come around again. My father was the mainly the one who checked in on him, and occasionally I was asked to go make sure he was still alive. My Mother, even if this is hard for others to understand, thankfully did not talk to him in that 5 years. My Father and I begged her not too. The fall of 2003 he begged for help again and thats where I spent 4 months going to AA meetings with him, financially helping him, giving him odd jobs, because he was actually sober for once. After the third month of sober, on my own discretion, I decided he was far enough on the good side to visit my Mother again. It was a tearfulreunion, heartwrenching actually.

       Sober, my brother is a completely different person. Sweet, kind, considerate, wonderful with kids, still alittle odd, but good. Drunk he is evil, mean. Two completely different people. The night before Thanksgiving that 2003, the first Thanksgiving he would have been able to go to after all those years, he got drunk, got in a fight with his girlfriend, took a knife to himself, and put his arm through a window nearly slicing his arm off. I got the call from the hospital at 1 in the morning. I spent Thanksgiving eve, at the hospital, I spent Thanksgiving Day, had my Thanksgiving dinner, back at the crazy ward again.

       He got released before Christmas and I had put so much heart and soul into my brother that fall I was so hopeful he could at least do Christmas Eve with the family. We had talked, he swore he wouldn't drink a drop that day, because I told him if he did, he couldn't come. I showed up to pick him up that night. He was drunk. Enough said.

       He looked good this week. He's managed to hold down a job now for over a year. He's still with the same girlfriend. She has so many problems of her own, the two are perfect for each other. He still drinks, he's still two different people. I just don't think I have it in me to step into his circle again. It's a travesty of emotion, it's a drain of life and breaks my heart. This passage of an entry is showing the bare roots of things that happened over the years, the list could go on for pages.........

       So when people ask me if I have any brothers or sisters, sometimes I will say yes, sometimes I say no. Because the person who should be my brother belongs to alcohol. I'm not sure if I'll ever reclaim him from the disease that holds him firmly in it's grasp. I mourn for my loss, my daughters loss of an Uncle, my parents loss of a son. It's a long twisted road that I find difficult to explain so people understand how one family could walk away from a blood family member. I see it as a forced choice. One that I am good with. 

       Long entry, sorry about that. Just felt the need to get the visit, reaffirm my thoughts and the events, my loss, off my mind and into relic form.