A Drunk has an Epiphany

Everything happens for a reason - in my mid-forties I can now say that I agree with that statement. I've heard the phrase my whole life and up until recently always questioned it. I thought - why me, why this, why now, why again? How can one human endure so much pain and suffering, what could possibly be the reason? I feel like I've grown a lifetime in my nearly 8 years of sobriety, with the biggest changes happening in the past couple years. It's like the sky opened up, the clouds disappeared and I am finally starting to get it. Bloody hell it's about time!

March 5, 2024 was a big day in my family as it marked 20 years since my brother Joel passed away from an accidental overdose a month after his 21st birthday. His passing crushed us - 2004 was a tough year, this was one of three big losses we experienced. Personally, Joel's death was a catalyst for my alcoholism. It gave me an excuse to drink daily and by myself (because duh, poor me), which didn't stop until 2016 when I cut the bullshit and quit drinking. I come from a blended family and Joel was my only full blood sibling; I have always felt responsible for him and harbored incredible guilt over the way things went down as we were growing up. I left the home that I lived in with Joel at 13 years old, he was 8, and it was messy, at best. The state of NH pulled me out of the home due to sexual abuse. I lived in a foster home for a short bit and then moved in with my grandmother who was awarded temporary custody as I entered high school. Despite all that turmoil, I had a lot of things going for me; I was very smart and an exceptional athlete. Basketball saved my life in many ways, I was lucky to be good enough to have people pay attention and offer me an outlet. As a young girl I had a coach that would pick me up for practice, games and tournaments, even though it was totally out of his way. We spent Saturday's in the gym working on free throws for hours because he knew I needed to get out of the house. He never asked questions and always showed up; that man was sent from above. Basketball carried me through the awkward stages of high school and helped me acclimate when I moved to Florida after 9th grade to live with my Dad. It helped me meet life long friends in college because we'd all show up to run full court behind the dorms (I was typically the only girl, but I kind of liked it that way). Basketball and brains saved my ass. I'm still crushing unsuspecting young victims even today at 45, who think I couldn't possibly beat them. Pffft, I still got it! Clearly not lacking any humility here.

Joel didn't have the academic aptitude that I had, nor did he have the drive or desire to be a part of team sports. Maybe things would have been different if he did, but he didn't and that's that. He was shy and struggled to make friends, he lacked confidence partly because he grew up in a home where he didn't feel loved or wanted when it mattered most. I have been through countless hours of therapy to help relieve myself of the guilt that this was my fault for leaving him in that home, knowing he felt unwanted and like an outcast there. Life was a struggle for him, the whole way. It wasn't my fault or his fault. We know what we are taught and we act based on how we are treated as children; when needs aren't met it creates trauma. He experienced some pretty terrible shit in a dysfunctional household. What happens then? The child acts out as a way to get attention and love, and so begins a cycle that can only be stopped with the help of professionals and some serious effort and intention. There is no finger pointing here, that's the thing with generational abuse - it's passed down because as I said, we only know what we are taught and how we are treated growing up.

Joel did not graduate high school, and around 19 years old he moved down to Florida to live with our Dad. He and I always thought that if only we could live in Florida with Dad things would be great. It was our promise land and I got there long before he did; I had already graduated college and left Florida to come back up north to start my career when he made it to the sunshine state. In case you were wondering, just because Florida is sunny most of the time it still has all the same challenges as New Hampshire for a kid growing up, probably more. Shocking, I know.

Life was not easy for my brother. He wasn't book smart, he wasn't really street smart either but he was adorable and we loved him. Joel wanted to fit in so desperately that he would do whatever anyone wanted him to do - codependence at its core. He got into trouble, he did drugs, he did whatever the group was doing whether it was right or wrong. There's so much more to the story (stay tuned for my book), but the bottom line is that life was going to be a tough road for my brother. Dad left for work on the morning of March 5, 2004 and Joel was snoring on the couch; when he came home in the early afternoon Joel was gone. At some point when he was sleeping his heart stopped because of the mix of drugs in his system - no pain, no panic, he was simply no longer alive.

Devastated doesn't quite cover it, but that is the word I will use. It was a big loss for me, my father, my mother, my grandmother and most of my family. Every March 5th has had a black cloud over it. This year I had an epiphany: It was a blessing that Joel passed away at 21 years old. Life was not going to get better for him, he was not headed down a good path and I think we all know it doesn't get easier as you navigate early adulthood and onward. My shift was that he was likely headed down a road where I envisioned more trouble, was unsure how he would earn a living, potentially have children that he couldn't properly parent (hello generational abuse!) and who knows what else. This life we have takes a whole lot of strength, sacrifice and effort to survive and I don't think he was cut out for it, period, end of story. We have a photo of Joel smiling big and having fun with Dad and their neighbor Kevin from just before he passed. He was happy then, maybe the happiest he'd been in his entire life. He was spared the potential misery that lay ahead, and I think that was a blessing for him and maybe for us. For that, I had gratitude when March 5th came and went this past year. Everything happens for a reason.