My brother called the other night. This after a small flurry of emails about which he instantly felt regretful, hence the call. This is a pattern. Fortunately, or not, the call came on a night when Robert was coming home at 8pm and was being fed about as soon as he walked in the door, so I had a good excuse to get off the phone.
I can't tell if my brother is drunk when he calls. He's told me he has a problem with alcohol. He rambles (a good sign). He's emotional. He talks about our father as a Nazi and mental caretakers as The Rapist (therapist, get it?, he said). In the next sentence, he talks about how "he loves the guy" (our father).
He's grief-stricken that his relationship with our father is seemingly destroyed, that he may never see our father again, yet seems to have no understanding that he's played a big role in the state of things. He hates our stepmother for pushing him away and calls her all sorts of unspeakable names, and yet I think she's really protecting our father from further hurt.
This brother is not subtle. He's not gentle. He's a raw, open gaping wound, and an expressive and literate one at that.
He seems to admire my having found some measure of peace in my life. Yeah, partly by learning not to obsess about it. Partly by putting it out of my mind a good deal of the time. Partly by having done a lot of hard work to get to a peaceful place.
He is so stirred up, so unpeaceful, that I feel riled up, sometimes for days afterwards. Not peaceful at all.
I certainly haven't asked to have all this old stuff brought to the surface. I don't like the tone our conversations (or, occasionally, our monologues) take. In my experience, there's a certain value in neatly folding up the memories and putting them in a drawer. You don't have to take them out every day and try them on so you can continue to re-experience the pain. The pain is still there, just not necessarily a part of every day experience. Does that sound cold? It's meant to sound practical. It's my coping mechanism that allows me to get through the day, keep my job, keep relationships going.
And of course, he always ends each conversation with "I love you." What the heck does that mean? He doesn't know who I am. It's very sweet of course, but always leaves me feeling puzzled.
I don't think he's going to go away. That means I'll need to strategize about how to set limits but in a loving way. Regardless of how I express them, it's quite possible that my message will be received negatively. The forecast calls for pain, followed by more of same.
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3 comments:
You know it's not actually cold and I'm here to assure you that it doesn't sound cold either. The continual poking at wounds, physical or otherwise, seldom improves them.
It does sound like admiration that your brother has for the measure of peace you have in your life and actual admiration is certainly a part of it - there may be some envy also (which may be part of why the need to rile you up). Long-distance analysis, I know, but that's how it strikes me.
"I love you". My friend, the Lady C in Ireland, has professed to being puzzled also about those words. The action of love, the doing of something, this she gets. But she once asked, "When someone says 'I love you', what is that really supposed to mean?"
My experience of the Lady C is that one is never unsure of being loved by her.
Something people are likely to be quite certain of with regard to you also.
All the warmth of the season to you and yours.
Nope, not cold at all.
And no matter what the dynamic, or wished-for dynamic, on either side, between your brother and you, your own health and well-being come first. And being loving to him also has a big limit, that of being loving to yourself first.
Just my opinionated encouragement to find those limits that are healthy for you.
Kevin and Kenneth, thank you so much for your insights. I will continue to seek more limits. and Kevin, you're right that poking at old wounds does not usually aid in healing.
"I love you" is a lovely sentiment from someone who means it. But from someone who has also told me "I never like you," it's a good reminder that I'm just being manipulated.
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