456: Missing
Posted by Lucy on March 8th, 2010. Filed under: Uncategorized.I don’t talk much about my brother here, and there are good reasons for that. We were born into the same family, but have never had a relationship. I haven’t seen him in over ten years, and I’ve spoken to him only once in that time, after a seismic event, the aftershocks of which would finally destroy the tattered shreds of my relationship with my mother. At that time, I spoke to him only to ask him a question he never answered, and to make it clear that he and I were through, forever.
I’m dancing around specifics here, because it’s all bad stuff. It’s the kind of thing you don’t talk about publicly, because it involves actual, legal crimes as well as emotional and moral ones. It involves long years of bad blood, forgivenesses shattered and repaired only to be shattered again. I lost my ability to deal with it years ago, and while I’m still sad about that reality, I know that I had no choice in the matter. If someone hurts you, and you forgive them, and they do it again, and you forgive them, and they do it again, and you forgive them… well, that’s what you do with family. When they do it again, and you let them back in, then you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. For me and my brother, there wasn’t much that was good between us in the first place; growing up under the same roof wasn’t enough to make us friends. And if you want to get down to it, the real truth is that despite the fact that we were raised by the same parents, I never really had a brother. I had a person in my life who was incapable of caring for me at all, and now… I don’t.
But this brother I don’t have… he has just had a baby.
I got the notice from a family member, you might remember her. It was a one-line e-mail, no subject, no greeting, saying only that my nephew had been born via emergency c-section on March 5th, a simple and quiet fuck you of a birth announcement. Which is okay; anything else would have been fake, and at least we are past being fake.
I know the girlfriend, my nephew’s mother; I knew her in high school, years ago, and I always liked her. I want to wish her well, I want to wish the baby well, I want to send my love, as distant as it may be, but I can’t, because any attempt to contact her or send love to the baby will result in cracking the thin ice that covers a roiling pond of vitriol, pain and mayhem. I left my family for very good reasons, and I finally understand that I can’t fix what’s broken there, even if I want to. I’ve finally stopped wanting to, and going back isn’t an option, so now I’m in this in-between state, in which the last threads that connect me with them are still there, pulling on me, and I can neither follow nor snip them. They are just… there.
There’s another child I’ve never met, a niece, from a different girlfriend my brother had some years back. My niece was born between my two daughters, which would put her in the neighborhood of nine years old now. She’s growing up in tragic circumstances, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I hope it will be better for my nephew, but the track record here isn’t great. His mother gives me some hope for him, and maybe for my brother, but at any rate… it really has nothing to do with me anymore, does it?
There is a new baby out in the world who has been born to my brother. My brother, who long ago destroyed whatever fragile bonds of love might have existed between us. My brother, who was adopted, and so there isn’t even a blood link holding us together. My brother, who I will never understand, and who will never understand me. My brother, who is nothing of mine at all.
But still there is a new baby out in the world, and if I could say anything to him, I would say that I hope the world is a softer place for him than it was for his father; I hope that he has peace and love and all the good things every baby should have; and I hope that the people he has in his life give him so much love that the aunt who is missing will never be missed.
All my best, little baby. Go out into the world and make good things in it.
March 8th, 2010 at 7:15 am
“My brother, who was adopted, and so there isn’t even a blood link holding us together.”
This the only time I have ever been offended by something I read on this blog. It’s personal to me. I have wanted to adopt a child since I saw the Romanian orphanages on 20/20 when I was 7. And in my heart I believe that it is the same, a heart-tie. |
In my first year of teaching there was a little boy whose mother used meth, who cared for his three younger siblings and called himself the man of the house. I did all I could for him. I love him, though I have not seen him in years and only exchanged a few letters. I say this without reservation: I love this child as if he came from my own body, my own soul. A child of my heart. I am, to this day, the only person who ever called him “my little boy.”
I feel very sad for you about the pain you feel for the loss of your brother and I feel both sorry and hopeful for his new baby. I, too, have a brother with whom I have no contact due to a long, ugly history. It is a blood relation. I feel no pull, no bond to him. Biology, it seems, is not key to me. The fact of your brother’s adoption was not meant to be an excuse for your alienation, I believe, but it read that way to me. That he was not your “real” family. I suspect that is more a commentary on the person he is than the DNA he carries.
In other words, the fact I was offended by the words I read has more to do with me than with you.
March 8th, 2010 at 7:52 am
Lora, I am sorry that what I wrote offended you, but I do want you to understand – I meant what I said. The lack of a biological link is not an excuse for the alienation; all things being the same, with a biological brother, I would feel the same way. But the fact that there is not even that link to hold us together matters to me, it makes me feel even more disconnected. Reverse it, keep him adopted and make him a good brother, and I wouldn’t blink an eye. It wouldn’t matter to me at all, because I have something stronger. Since there is nothing stronger than biology to hold us together, and now I don’t even have that, it’s something that matters to me.
I am sorry you were offended, but I don’t take it back. That’s how I feel, and I never said anything about adopted people not being real parts of the family. As someone who has “adopted” as family people who are not biologically related, I feel I’m on firm ground here.
March 8th, 2010 at 8:16 am
Thank you for acknowledging my feelings and clarifying. Please don’t apologize.
March 8th, 2010 at 8:26 am
No worries, babe. And even though I do stand by what I wrote, I am sorry that it offended you. It was not my intention to make a statement about adoption in general, but just how completely obliterated the link between me and my brother is. I understand how tender feelings can get around adoption, but really, that’s not the central issue here. It’s barely even a peripheral issue.
Smooches, baby. All is well.
March 8th, 2010 at 8:31 am
Ms. Alpha-Betty, I have to tell you, I feel very fortunate for the fact that I cannot relate to this situation. It makes me sad to know not only that you’ve gone through it, but that there will be people who read this blog who do relate. So, I will only say this: I did not read anything into your noting your brother’s adoptive status other than the fact that you seemed to wish that you at least had that. Maybe you feel it would have made all your efforts with him more worthwhile, I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that it read to me as an afterthought, something noted to stave off the “but he’s your brother!” crowd. That’s what it seemed to me.
March 8th, 2010 at 8:47 am
Oh, honey. I have a sister (once my bestest friend and still very,very dear to me) that insists on dangling one leg over the edge of my lifeboat at all times. I’ve typed that and am now frozen, unable to write anything past it. Suffice to say, I feel where you’re coming from, and know how much situations like this hurt. Sending love to you and that baby.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:12 am
Babies need all the love they can get from everyone they can get ~ it’s just unfortunate that you (in general, not specifically) can’t just love a baby without being in the midst of everyone else. While I haven’t experienced your hurt, I can certainly understand why you can’t go back. Maybe one day, when your neice and/or nephew need to break the same family ties that have hurt you so much, they will be able to seek out their amazing Aunt Lucy and know that they aren’t alone.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:20 am
I wish you were here so I could make you baked ziti. It’s the go-to Gina Crisis Comfort Food. I’d bring it to you, but a large portion of my in-laws are in Ohio, and I dare not go there.
That all said, I understand. And I understand how much it hurts. When I was a kid, we had a HUGE family. By the time I got married, all of the people from both sides of my family we could invite fit at one table. Drugs, abuse, prison, the (girl) cousin I asked mom to NEVER leave me alone with again, it’s all in the mix. Sometimes, I think it’s worse because they are blood, because you know that you share something with these people, something that can’t be cut no matter how bad it gets, and it might be in YOU as well.
Love, hugs, and virtual ziti. <3
March 8th, 2010 at 9:38 am
I’m adopted. My brother is adopted. And like you, although we were raised in the same house by the same parents, we have NOTHING in common at all. Not only he is the way he is, but he isn’t a productive member of society: For seven years, he’s lived with my parents (he’s 43 now) and finally gave up the pretense of working or schooling and is now just an oxygen vampire. I loathe him beyond words, and I loathe him for putting my parents through what he’s put them through. So even adopted, and no blood relations with anyone anywhere within our family, it doesn’t matter. If he were my full-blooded brother, I’d still loathe him, probably more so. If he fell off the planet, I’d cry for my parents, but wouldn’t shed one tiny drop for him, the … person… he’s become. Ever.
So I know what it’s like to grow up with a Big Brother in the house who was really just a stranger sharing a roof over our heads and not a “big brother” at all. And thank God he never had kids — it’s the kids who break my heart.
And for your beautiful new nephew — all the positive vibes I can send a total stranger. It’s a big, big world out there. I hope you take a big ol’ chomp at it with a road as smooth as possible. And someday, when you realize you have an aunt out there, I hope and pray you find her: She’s really quite amazing. And she’ll be there, waiting.
March 8th, 2010 at 10:28 am
In a way my auntie’s heart aches for you and wishes to send you condolences. My nephew is one of the most precious people to me. However having said that, I realize that my love for my nephew grows out of my love for my brother (just about typed bother) who is a valuable person in my life.
So my sister’s heart hurts for you too.
March 8th, 2010 at 10:33 am
I have a friend who grew up hearing terrible things about her aunt from her dad and his other siblings, hearing about how her aunt was mentally unhinged, etc. She grew up feeling different and alone, and finally tracked down her aunt because she wanted to find out if she was the only one in her family who thought the way she did. She discovered an amazing woman who was full of life and love, welcoming her with open arms. My friend now considers her aunt one of her best friends, and they can sit down together and pig out on ice cream when the family drama gets to be too much.
That outcome is one that I’m hoping for in your situation. I hope that someday you and your nephew can sit down and laugh together, that he can find out for himself what an awesome person you are. Hopefully he will have so much love growing up that he feels the need to share it with his long-lost Aunt Lucy/Lani.
March 8th, 2010 at 10:58 am
I identify with so many of these stories. I don’t write – or talk, come to think of it – about my experience with my family, but the abbreviated version is this: after a messed-up childhood, I severed all ties with my biological family at the age of fifteen, and despite occasional what-ifs, I haven’t looked back.
That said, I’ve been fortunate enough to form a new family of friends and like-minded people. Some hurts have healed, and some never will, but that’s okay too – they are a constant reminder that we can do terrible things to other people, and that we must tread lightly.
Our time in this world is limited, and the people with whom we connect are important; shared blood, I have learned, is less important than shared spirit.
Like Bettyness, for example.
March 8th, 2010 at 11:01 am
@Betty Boop – “oxygen vampire”. I just laughed so hard I was afraid people were going to come ask why. My friends and family refer to them as “wastes of perfectly good carbon”.
March 8th, 2010 at 11:30 am
@Alastair – “Our time in this world is limited, and the people with whom we connect are important; shared blood, I have learned, is less important than shared spirit.” Love this. I’ll be sharing it with all my spirit-siblings.
Lucy, I grew up desperately needing that someone who could give me unconditional love and support. When I was about twelve, I started searching, seeking out and meeting every aunt, uncle, cousin, family friend, until I found the people I needed. Your nephew will find you if he needs you.
March 8th, 2010 at 11:44 am
I feel for you, Lucy. There are so many similar types of reasons I have no contact with most of both sides of my family, adopted, married-in, and blood-related. (They all give me so many reasons to believe in nurture over nature.) And I used to wish I could kidnap the children of my ex and his psycho-bitch wife. You just want to save all the babies from the life you see them growing up in. And you just can’t. It is heartbreaking. The best you can do is what you are doing: making such a loving, safe haven for your girls. That’s how people balance out the bad side of things.
March 8th, 2010 at 11:47 am
I feel very fortunate to have grown up in a warm, loving family. Even though my brother and I did not get along for several years unless we were in different states, once I got to college age, he and I began to form not only a better, truer, loving family bond, but also a friendship. That’s grown through the years and now that we’re both in our 50s and our parents are both gone, I can’t imagine not having him and his family so deeply rooted in my life.
I don’t mean this as a “nanny nanny boo boo” to anyone else. It’s just that Lucy’s post made me stop, think, feel, and count my blessings.
Moving on, I just want to say that none of us are obligated to maintain family ties or friendships with people who hurt us in horrid ways. We don’t have to love, or even like them.
Easier said, than done, I know, and even when it’s healthy to cut those ties, regret sometimes still seeps into our hearts.
Make it a healthy regret, not one that sucks you into a morass of negative feelings. With a healthy regret comes the acceptance that you did what you could, the other people didn’t step up, and you’ve had to take the steps necessary to do what’s right for you and yours.
March 8th, 2010 at 12:04 pm
“My brother, who was adopted, and so there isn’t even a blood link holding us together.”
I know you aren’t going to apologize and you didn’t mean to offend. But wow. that’s a heck of statement to make. And it’s the first thing you’ve ever written that made me think that I need to step back and rethink visiting this blog.
You’re brother’s a waste of oxygen, that sucks, it probably blows bears, but to equate that the family you’ve chosen as an adult to the “adopted” family that you have disowned (for what sounds really, really valid and good reasons) is almost worse. Children don’t get to choose the families they are placed with, ever.
I’m adopted, my brother’s adopted. We have absolutely nothing in common, other of course then our whole lives growing up together as family. Yeah, we didn’t get along until we were adults, but so what. From what I’ve heard, biology’s not a guarentee of shared interests or family harmony.
Maybe it’s true that you really don’t care about a blood link, but I think it does and that you wouldn’t have mentioned he was adopted unless it did matter.
March 8th, 2010 at 12:15 pm
Alastair – you’re absolutely right. Some scars should stay visible. They are a reminder that words I’ve heard can go on echoing in a nasty Gollum voice for a lifetime; that I have the same capability to leave echoes and if I want them to be musical, with a lilt, I have to be aware of my own actions and words. I wish I’d known that 15 year old boy. What an extraordinary kid he must have been.
Lucy – I’ll join in and send love to that new baby and to his older sister. And when they’re older, if they want to know who you are, your books will tell them all they need to know. Your books are beautiful music.
March 8th, 2010 at 12:24 pm
I’m proud to report I resisted in my first impulse — to give assvice.
Your tenuous threads to you past remind me of the tiny fibers that cling desperately to a baby tooth; the ones that unnerve young children who want the new space, new tooth, new growth. Some eagerly slam the door, others dither and worry the tooth out, and sometimes, the new tooth pops the last thread away, gently.
The new tooth is stronger, bigger, better for the rest of the life.
March 8th, 2010 at 12:25 pm
I swear I am going to have to print comments before entering.
March 8th, 2010 at 12:54 pm
Oh, god. You know, I just can’t do this anymore. Lucy, everyone, I wish you all the best. You are all wonderful Bettys!! But some of these posts just dredge up too much stuff from my past, and even though I’ve worked through it all, it’s still there, and it’s not healthy to be reminded and distressed too often.
My childhood was horrendous. There’s really no other word for it. I could type for pages and pages and not touch on one one-hundredth of the stuff that happened to me. From the stoned parents playing with guns, to the crazy mother dangling me by my hands over the flood waters in front of the drainage pipe, to being fed my own pets- god, most horror fiction is pleasant compared to my life as a kid. My story has a happy ending, though; I worked like mad to get to stay in one school in high school, studied constantly despite you-wouldn’t-believe-what crap, got nearly perfect scores on my SATs, earned piles of scholarships to go to college (first in my family), got three degrees in four years, married a brilliant, generous, supportive guy who loves me, and have what is (compared to my childhood, anyway) an idyllic life.
Lucy, you are a wonderful, strong woman, and I know you’ll get through this challenging place in your life. I hope everyone else who is working through their own issues here finds what they need in this caring, supportive space. For myself, though, I need to focus on my here-and-now happily ever after. I’m no longer giving myself permission to come here, it just tears me up too much. All me, not you.
Hopefully, I’ll still hear from some of you over at Argh Ink. And of course, I’ll still be buying all of Lucy/Lani’s books.
Best Wishes! Signing off!
March 8th, 2010 at 12:56 pm
I came from a family with six children-and we are all so different. Being the second from the oldest, I remember my younger siblings as babies and then young, darling children. It REALLY hurts to see what they have become. The lack of morals, the vises and the total lack of regard for anyone but themselves and their selfish needs has made me break ties with two of them. When they ask why, I tell them that I can not and will not be witness to their actions.My parents do not understand this stance I take. They say”He’s your brother, you have to love him.” ” The strong have to support the weak” “He’ll be a good father/ son/ brother when he is 40″ I refuse to make excuses or to be around this. I grew up, took on responsibilty, supported myself and believe that they should do the same. So, yes, Lucy, I know how you feel and I know why you stepped away and are staying away-it just hurts too much to see what they have done with a promising life.
March 8th, 2010 at 1:29 pm
I’m sorry you’re having a rubbish time. I can’t say anything more helpful than that, as I’m an only child with a boringly happy upbringing, so I can’t begin to understand how crap this must be for you. I hope things get better soon, but between now and then, enjoy your friends, your beautiful daughters, warm fuzzies from the various cats and dogs, and potstickers. Hugs.
March 8th, 2010 at 1:44 pm
Its not selfish for you to want to separate yourself from the insanity because doing so helps you to protect your daughters the best way you know how.
March 8th, 2010 at 2:28 pm
What you’re doing is protecting yourself, and you have the right to make that choice not to be involved. I think where your difficulty is coming from is in your heart you know the baby is an innocent. It can no more be held responsible for the family it was born into than you can. And you know that, and feel for this baby at a heart level, and part of you wants to reach out and somehow make that baby’s life better, but you can’t.
The manipulative tone of the email was sent to cause you to feel guilty. Ignore it. All it would take is a response from you and they would widen that chink and before you know it they’d be back in your life again. You have to set and maintain your boundaries for mental health. Later, as you work through your own problems and grow stronger in not allowing others to use you, you’ll make even stronger decisions. You might choose to let some of your family back in. It happens. But first you have to seperate so you can heal yourself.
I think the best thing you can give this baby is the prayer you already gave.
March 8th, 2010 at 2:34 pm
Sounds like a sad situation on many levels, and my heart aches for all of you.
Now I feel like hugging my brother. Too bad he lives 200 miles away. A phone call will have to suffice.
Tawna (Bettylicious)
March 8th, 2010 at 3:04 pm
You know how the threads go when you’re knitting something like a Fair Isle sweater? Me neither, personally, but I’ve turned a sweater inside-out and seen this. Lots of the threads on the inside just hang there for awhile until they’re knit back into the pattern.
It’s okay to let threads just lie there. No need to snip or tug them. Maybe they’ll be part of your pattern again someday. And maybe not.
Also, I think someone who is physically present but emotionally absent is more “missing” than someone who isn’t physically present but sends prayers of protection out there.
March 8th, 2010 at 4:15 pm
This is now the third time that I’ve tried responding to this. I’m trying to do so without sounding like an angry lunatic.
I’m not adopted, so I can’t say I see things from your view point. Nor is my husband, although I often wish his mom had done the much better thing and given him up when she was 19, unmarried, and pregnant. He would have had the chance to be part of a family that loved and wanted him, instead of one that thinks of him as unwanted, a cross to be born, a sin, an outsider.
While it may be true that no child ever gets a choice in what family they’re placed with, the choices are less for biological children. Speaking from the point of view of a person who has had several friends adopt, the screening is rigorous, and every attempt is made to find the best family for a particular child. Not so with biological families. There’s no screening. No home visits. No determination of a person’s fitness to care for another life. You can be born into a family that thinks the mom-to-be getting trashed at the baby shower is totally ok, that holding a newborn in one hand a lit cigarette in the other is peachy keen. A family where benign neglect is the highlight of your day, because at least no one is beating on you. One where you wish you didn’t have those blood ties, because hating your own flesh and blood seems so wrong that it’s unimaginable, despite how horrible they are to you.
March 8th, 2010 at 4:33 pm
Julie wrote:
Then, Julie, maybe you should stop coming here. I’ve explained where I was coming from on this, and if that didn’t make it clear enough to you that I’m not slamming adoptees, then it’s probably best you and I part ways. I never said that being adopted made him less of a brother to me; who he is made him less of a brother to me. Being adopted made for one less link – a biological one – that’s all I’m saying. I wish you well, wherever you go, but in this case you might be right. Mine might not be the blog for you.
JulieB wrote:
Oh, bummer. I love assvice. Lay it on me!
Jennifer (Butterfly Betty) said:
Hell, I didn’t get this much exit traffic from the religion post! Big day here at LucyMarch.com. I keep this up, it’ll just be me and Jenny coming here.
Anyway, Jennifer – totally understood. I’m talking about tough stuff here, and it can be hard to take. I do hope to see you around, and if you’re a writer, there’s a lot less of this hard-hitting stuff over at the Wiffer forums. Big love, baby. Don’t be a stranger.
Go be happy.
March 8th, 2010 at 4:39 pm
Gina/Black Betty wrote:
You didn’t come off sounding like a lunatic, and you made some good points. That said…
… I really don’t want to get into a big thing over adoption here. I wasn’t making a statement about the value or non-value of adoptive siblings, and that’s not what the post was about. If any of you have issues that relate to adoption, and this post touched on those nerves, take a breath and realize – that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about my family, specifically mine, not yours, not anyone else’s. This blog, Narcissism R’ Us, is about me. Not you. I’m not slamming you, or your family. I’m just telling the truth about mine.
And if anyone sees a post by someone getting all up about adoption, I’m gonna ask you to let it pass without commentary. You can vent to me privately if you wish – lucy at lucymarch dot com – but I don’t want grumbles in the comments. As we’ve seen, this is a tough place for people to come, we’re talking about a lot of really hard stuff here, and I want the comments to be a soft, supportive place to go. If you’re angry, either with me or another commenter, send it to me privately, please, and leave the comments a safe place for people who are talking about tender, personal things.
Thank you.
March 8th, 2010 at 4:51 pm
Yesterday my niece said something which resonated with me. You all can take it or leave it.
My younger “not in the lifeboat” sister and I never seem to see eye to eye, ever, any more, thus the huge boundaries and walls keeping out all hurt and anger. So why does she still have the ability to trigger the bad thoughts? In the “forgive and have boundaries” camp we both live in, my niece said, she started to pray blessings on her “enemies” and in time she was able to think of them without the anger and hurt, knowing she had truly forgiven and moved forward without the person having any power over her again. By that, I mean, even though the person was no longer in her life, the power to cause very hurtful and angry feelings whenever she thought of the person was still affecting her life. As she blessed her “enemies” the power line to hurt her emotionally and mentally was no longer plugged in. She said it was very freeing. I “know” of this spiritual principle and have not spoken it out loud.
Some may not be at the place to try it. Some may have shut the door and locked it. I am going to give it a try.
To the little baby boy – “May your life be filled with love, peace and safety. May you grow to be the wonderful boy you are meant to be.”
(In my minds eyes, I see the Betties as the Fairy Godmothers/Fathers proclaiming good wishes around the bassinet, sort of like the Fairy Godmothers in Sleeping Beauty.)
March 8th, 2010 at 5:11 pm
Camm – that’s such a fabulous post, thank you. Wow. You know, I’m still so angry with my brother, still haven’t forgiven him. I’m gonna work on that, “pray blessings” on him, see how it goes. I can’t have him in my life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t release him with love.
And the imagery of all the good will of the Fairy Godmother Betties blessing this baby makes me feel so happy; thank you.
March 8th, 2010 at 5:23 pm
Camm – I like the thought of being a fairy godmother. I really do.
Regarding Lucy’s place: my husband has noticed (and commented) on the fact that I have a better sense of myself and what makes me happy lately. OK, what he really said was that I’m better at saying, “Screw that”, but that’s what he meant. My Dr. Solly, bless him, helps me put toxic memories and relationships that periodically bite me in the ass in their proper places, but the Betties contribute mightily. I’m a happier person because of all of you and while I might never know what it cost each of you to be so honest, I can tell you this. I’m so damn grateful. And when one of you reveals a pain so deep I can’t even imagine it, I can close my eyes and send a wave of positive thoughts that I hope reaches you somehow. So, to paraphrase the song, “I’ll take the laughter and the tears.” I love this place.
March 8th, 2010 at 5:28 pm
Lucy, it’s hard enough to know generally that many children in this world grow up with parents they can’t depend on, but once in a while that truth hits way too close to home. It is the most powerless feeling.
P.S. That is a lovely blessing that you’ve sent out into the universe for that baby. I really hope that somehow it will reaches him.
March 8th, 2010 at 5:33 pm
Oooohhh, I want to be a Fairy GodBetty! I love that! I’m often reminded that forgiveness does not mean forgetfulness. I am struggling still to forgive someone who is no longer and will never again be a part of my life. So my forgiveness is not for him ~ it’s for me. It’s for my healing. It’s (in my head) my willingness to let go of my *right* to retribution, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me (even though that could never happen). Praying for him has helped me. It’s a process, but as long as you’re taking the steps, you can’t help but move forward. My 2 cents, for what it’s worth.
March 8th, 2010 at 6:13 pm
Oh babe, hugs and more hugs. And what Camm, Alistair and Robena said.
I had a step-brother whom I considered a brother growing up, though there were no ties of blood between us. He scattered acts easily counted as emotional, moral and yes, legal crimes across a good part of my teenage years, doing so much damage to me that to this day I still seek to unwend and unwind his influence and memory from my psyche – like pulling myself off of barbed wire. I am not at all ashamed to say that I was hugely relieved when he killed himself back in ’95.
What I learned from having him in my life is that sometimes it’s not enough to toss somebody off the lifeboat. Sometimes you just can’t throw them far enough away that nothing of them will ever tug at or touch you again. I hated learning that because I like things neatly categorized and labeled and pinned to boards OVER THERE so I can stay at a safe distance from the prickly bits as I choose.
What’s important is that you keep doing what you’re doing, protecting yourself and feeling the sunshine on your face (perhaps metaphorical at this time of year in Ohio), and remembering that you are loved by people who don’t want to twist you in any way to serve their agenda.
March 8th, 2010 at 6:17 pm
Lucy ~ “I can’t have him in my life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t release him with love”
Truly believe that is a key – to release with love. I can’t have my sister in my life either. There may be a day you may be able to forgive your brother or not. So we can only bless them on their way and trust that they will not continue to hurt others, especially little ones.
My heart just broke for the things Jennifer had to endure. Unfortunately, so many children are terribly hurt or neglected, carrying the deep wounds in their hearts.
Jennifer ~ it is tough to read some of the deep things shared here and when it triggers stuff in our own hearts, the safe thing is to not be here. Love to you and so happy you have a wonderful and supportive guy in your life. I hope you feel all the love going out to you.
March 8th, 2010 at 6:32 pm
Like TigerLilyBetty, I grew up an only child in a (mostly) happy house. Things changed after my parents divorced and, due to a lot of crap, I’ve jettisoned my father from my lifeboat. We still talk occasionally, but I don’t invest myself in that relationship at all. I’m better for it.
I hope that your new nephew gets every chance possible to have a beautiful life. It stinks that, due to circumstance, you cannot be part of either your nephew or your niece’s lives.
One thing that I really like about your blog is your insistence on honesty. It’s why I’ll be here through thick and thin. It takes true courage to be honest with yourself, and even more courage to share your best and worst with the world. No matter what you discover, I’m so proud of you.
March 8th, 2010 at 6:34 pm
@Camm, I love the hovering Fairy GodBetties image over the sleeping beauty bassinet and your idea about sending prayer blessings on enemies is so beautiful–I will try it!
I have stressed myself so much today because I commented unfavorably. It was not my wish to upset any of you–I adore you all and look so forward to reading your insightful and brave comments every day. I will be more careful.
March 8th, 2010 at 6:46 pm
We’re all Fairy GodBetties to each other. Sending nest wishes to all the children who could use them.
March 8th, 2010 at 7:21 pm
Lora said:
Okay, nobody should be stressing herself out over this stuff. I’m going to think on it and write up a post for discussion, but really – it’s okay to disagree. I just don’t want any anger here. I don’t want it to be Betty vs. Betty. We all have opinions, and sometimes, those opinions are going to conflict. As long as they conflict respectfully, and kindly, then it’s okay. But if I feel like a topic is getting hot, even just a little bit hot, I’m gonna jump in here and throw on some cold water because I don’t want any unkindness here.
Lora, you’re fine. Please don’t sweat it. No stress.
March 8th, 2010 at 7:43 pm
No Negative Energy.
It should be a Betty By-law.
Just sayin’!
March 8th, 2010 at 8:53 pm
No need to; you did it better anyway.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:23 pm
As a teacher, there are frequently students whose stories break my heart– sexual and physical abuse, drug addiction, absent parents, neglect, and more emotional wounds than I care to list. I can’t take them home with me so that I can be the parent that is lacking in their life but I can be the adult who listens to them and really hears what it is that they have to say. And, I frequently find myself imparting some of the many words of wisdom that I’ve learned here. So, Betties, I do my best to spread your Fairy GodBettyness among the kids I teach.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:44 pm
Lucy,
This post. This post. Yes. This post made me want to cry. I know, I know, I should have cried before, I’m sure. Oh well. call me a late to the show. But srsly, all through the rest, I was just cheering you on. But this one made me sad and mad and so tired and also so thankful.
My sibs & I… well, we have different political views, differing ideas on raising kids and washing knives and running our bank accounts and sometimes, we simply choose not to comment. But still, stretched out from Arizona to Ontario, we are still family. And I would want to curl up and just die if one of my sibs had a child – or I had a child – and we couldn’t share…
So, I am sorry, Lucy. For you and the nephew and the niece. And I hope that your wish will find its star and that you will continue to find your peace.
Healing and hoping, getting healthy, all of it takes such courage. Not caving and re-entering hell takes courage. And I can only stand with you in your same hope – cos really what else can I do? You don’t even know me – that the little one will somehow know a kinder place and have a kinder childhood then his father did.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:53 pm
You know, I’m not so sure it always has to be puppies and kumbaya here at the Pink Palace. Dissenting opinions have value… they make us look at a statement or situation in ways we may not have been capable of on our own. Having said that, I’m a HUGE proponent of the draw “agree to disagree”.
Lucy – this is your blog and your opinions and you’ve never made any pretensions otherwise. I don’t agree with everything you say, and I don’t have to.* And therein lies the beauty for me; I can scan the comments and find (obviously right-minded) people echoing my own personal opinions or those with supporting arguments to yours I never would have thought of. I can play in the comments or not if I wish. Genius!
I’ve learned so much from everyone here – most especially that I am very, very, very lucky to have the family that I have. I hope that the folks who are most disturbed by this post (or any of the others, for that matter) don’t take their toys and go home forever. After, tomorrow is another blog.
*Personally I think you apologize too much. You should discuss that with Dr. Susan.
March 8th, 2010 at 9:59 pm
This was a terribly good blog and comments (and I mean the adverb in the “frightening” sense).
In the way I see life, there might be something about a biological bond, simply because having a Clan makes it easier to get through life in many cases. But . . . having seen the Clan go wrong so many times, I can’t state it’s fact, and true for everyone. In fact, the biological bond seems to go wrong so often, I sometimes wonder why we have families at all. The adoptive bond is also there — sometimes wonderful and loving, sometimes rotten to the core.
Anyway, I was estranged from my father, and then he died. When feelings of anger towards him started getting to me (interfering with my sleep, etc.), I imagined a huge pair of scissors, clipping any ties between us. Sometimes there were so many sticky ties, it looked like cutting through a pulled-apart Rice Krispie treat (I know that’s a really stupid image, but I can’t think of anything else with so many sticky, stringy bonds. Except fermented beans. Very visual image, this was.)
Julie B, don’t apologize for your post — the tooth analogy made a lot of sense to me. The only thing is, teeth don’t usually try to re-attach spontaneously. Even these days, I sometimes have to get the scissors out, and cut off my father’s ties. I don’t believe he’s there . . . god, that would be a horror show . . . but I need to maintain my balance still.
March 8th, 2010 at 11:32 pm
Lucy – I know of what you speak, not a brother, but a father. I know of what you speak and I understand. I thank you for your honesty and your bravery, and your daughters will thank you for giving them the best chance at a childhood free from hurt and anguish. Man that lifeboat sweetie, you’re the captain, take care of your crew!
March 9th, 2010 at 3:09 am
For 44 years I excused, forgave, believed in redemption and the possibility of change in a sibling. For the past year I stopped being the Pollyanna I frequently fall into the trap of imitating and looked at reality. I didn’t like it nearly as much. But now I don’t have to tell those “white” lies, fake the smiles or believe that they will get better. I can say what is really happening and perhaps purge some of that bile that sits in my belly and talk to people about what really has been going on. Perhaps after a while it will even stop hurting.
Stuff happens and I really needed to stop being such a wuss anyway.
March 9th, 2010 at 3:42 am
I didn’t get what other people are getting from the infamous adoption comment. I think the biological tie comes in because that’s at least one thing you might have had in common- you might come from different perspectives, planets, and philosophical standpoints, but there would still be that one shared thing. It’s illusory, though. The biological tie is percieved as a guaranteed connection, but that’s simply not true. I’m related to people I would cross the street to avoid if we weren’t kin (and sometimes still do) and I have people I love who are no relation to me but whom I would do anything for. We bond with like-minded people-I think Anne of Green Gables called it a ‘kindred spirit’- and if that like-mindedness isn’t there, you can’t force it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I read your comment as mourning the fact that there was not at least a blood tie, SOMETHING, to connect you to this person. The most fundamental form of connection, if you will. But there isn’t. And so there is one more layer of hurt to deal with.
March 10th, 2010 at 4:41 pm
Gina – I had to wait a couple days until I could respond calmly. Lucy’s offhand comment touched a raw nerve that I had thought was therapy-ed out. I guess it’s not. Lucy does not want to discuss adoption on her blog and I respect that so I’m not going to respond to most of your comment. Child abuse is a horrifying situation, no matter what kind of family it’s found in. It’s horrible that your husband had to endure what he did, same as any child that has been abused. My intention was never to belittle or disrespect any survivor of abuse. My comment was a response to my own baggage and experience confronting a sentence that threw me for an emotional loop.
.
March 12th, 2010 at 3:25 am
I grew up with a brother who is almost the exact opposite of me. For all intents and purposes, we lived completely different lives, except when we shared the back seat of the car on the way to grandma’s house and he picked the music and to this day I know all the words to both The Gambler and Beat Street. But I digress.
We had bit of an epiphany once when we were newly minted adults, visiting our uncle without our dad, that made us realize that we either had to make a decision to interact with each other or live through a lifetime of tense family holidays like they did. It’s been about 15 years and I talk to my brother probably more than anyone, but without that epiphany and that effort, we probably wouldn’t speak more than once a year. We just have almost nothing in common but a tendency to talk too much without coming to a point.
Which is to say that we can develop really different relationships as adults than what we stumble into as children. And one of the best things you can do is learn who to spend time with, and get out of the bad relationships you’ve stumbled into. My brother and I liked each other distantly but couldn’t relate, so we made an effort to relate and it works out, usually. But if he’d been horrible? No way would I have made the effort.
The baby? You can’t do anything. It may as well be the baby of a stranger in Siberia. Which is probably what’s making you grieve for it -there’s enough relationship history that you feel you ought to be able to do something, but even if you reopened that channel, there would still be nothing you could do. Don’t try to convince yourself that you could. Focus on things you can do, like getting Mona shaved so the girls can giggle at their tiny bald poodle. For instance. Maybe find someone you can help in lieu of your nephew? It won’t help him but it might help you. then again, maybe not. Me, I’m waiting for someone to build that commune with separate sleeping quarters and common lounge space with a dog run.