Reaching Out

I reached out to my family tonight. It had been many weeks since I spoke to some of them, many months for others. One of my worst character defects is my willingness to ignore things, seemingly forever. To ignore a needed oil change for the car is one thing, ignoring the important people in my life is quite another.

I am the oldest of four children. I live a thousand miles from my siblings while they live within just a few mile of each other. They are Sister One, Sister Two and Little Brother. Sister One is three years younger than me, Sister Two is twelve years younger than Sister One, Little Brother is three years younger than sister Two. Our parents had raised two pair of children, a decade apart.

I reached out tonight by telephone. I called Sister One and we caught each other up on the news about our spouses and children. Everyone is OK, always good news. Sister One gave me a telephone number for Sister Two who had moved. Sister Two also was OK, all things considered, and that was more good news.

I left a message on Little Brother's answering machine. I assume everything is OK with him. Neither sister suggested any reason for concern.

The dynamics of interaction between family members can be powerful and complicated. Since I moved away from home at the age of seventeen I have managed to avoid complications and conflict by ignoring my family. It wasn't that I didn't love them and need them, I just could not seem to cope with conflict and complication. I also had difficulty dealing with guilt. Being with my family always made me feel guilty.

By now you are getting the picture. I was a mess.

Our home was a tough place to grow up. I left at the first opportunity. At seventeen I joined the Navy and traded home for boot camp. I felt guilty for leaving my siblings behind when I left. For years I imagined that I might return someday as a successful adult, able to rescue my sisters and brother from the abusive prison I had imagined our home to be.

But there was no rescue. In my third year of service I was discharged fom the Navy because of a pre-existing medical condition. As a minor with little money I was unable to support myself and live independently. I found it necessary to return to the home I had fled.

Guilt piled upon guilt. I abandoned the other kids when I ran away. I did not rescue them. I returned home, ashamed at having failed to succeed in the world. I displaced my sister from her bedroom when I returned to live with the family. I did not accompany them later when Dad moved the family to Chicago, abandoning the kids again. These guilts were stacked upon older guilts; for having been a crippled boy with polio, for being a constant disappointment to my father, for having been born at all.

In the Navy I had acquired a taste for alcohol. Alcohol helped me to cope with feelings like guilt, shame and inadequacy. It erased those feelings for as long as I remained intoxicated.

Over the years, alcohol became not only a coping tool but also a substite for the things I lacked. I did not need to strive for excellence or take pride in my work, alcohol made me feel good enough. I did not need friends or a healthy social life, alcohol erased lonliness. I did not need happiness or security or a spiritual life. Eventually I did not even need self respect.

And I certainly did not need or want the feelings of guilt and shame that seemed always to accompany visits with my family. A card at Christmas, a phone call on a birthday and a drink made me feel that my family obligations had been met.

My soul was empty, my life lacked purpose, I had no peace of mind and I cared little about or for anyone. But a few drinks could make me comfortably numb and I settled for that, it seemed like enough.

Three years ago I reached out for help from God and from others after thirty-seven years of substitution. I needed God and I wanted people in my life, not intoxicating substitutes.

Tonight I reached out again for my family. I need and want them too.