Brian

I am Brian’s big brother.

I need to explain why this statement has meaning for me.

Several months ago Brian posted to his Facebook page. It had something to do with the Cleveland Indians. (We grew up in a suburb of Cleveland.) In the post, he mentioned going to games “with my big brother.”

The phrase struck me. It was different than saying “my brother” or “my older brother.” To him, I was his big brother. He reiterated this when I invited him into this project. He wrote, “You were my big brother and I always looked up to you.”

These words caused me to reflect on how I held myself as a big brother. Did I do what I could to protect my little brother? Did I take on the role of big brother? Did I even feel like a big brother to my brother and sister?

I’m not proud of the way I have to answer these questions.

Had I saw myself as a protector, I might have stood up for myself as well. Had I saw myself as someone my siblings looked up to, I might have experienced more pride in myself. Had I treated them with more kindness and attentiveness, I might not have been so self-centered.

One of the things I remember most clearly about my relationship with Brian is that I hit him when I got frustrated with him. It was an open-handed smack, but he would cry and crumple into a heap. I couldn’t understand why something that didn’t physically hurt much would always make him do this. I never realized that it was the psychic pain, not the physical pain that was most hurtful.

He would continue to cry until Mom or Dad noticed. I thought this was really why he cried—to get me in trouble. OK, there’s probably some truth to that, just not the whole truth. I remember one time, Mom and Dad weren’t home, so he lay in the front yard where I hit him and cried and cried until they came home. I watched him through the window from inside the house and fretted for probably an hour.

This isn’t the way I saw myself as a child when I started this project. As a bully. A bully? Me? I saw myself as a loner and a victim. I was bullied myself. In the sixth grade I was peed on in the boys’ bathroom. In the eighth grade I was cornered by my bully at wood shop with some sort of woodworking tool. In desperation, I lunged at him. He neatly sidestepped me. He responded by ordering me to meet him after school so we could fight. I was terrified. But I showed up and refused to throw the first punch. He said I wasn’t worth it and walked away.

So it’s hard to imagine myself as a bully. I don’t think I bullied out of a sense of meanness. (Brian was kind in saying that the bullying didn’t define our relationship.) But after writing both Sandy and Brian’s letters, I realize I often lost control and lashed out physically when I got angry. I wrote in Sandy’s letter that I felt angry for most of my teen years, and didn’t know where the anger was coming from. I couldn’t take my anger out against who I was angry at, so I took it out against the people who would let me get away with it.

There’s a saying in 12-step groups that goes like this: “Hurt people hurt people.” And I was hurting. I had a terrible self-concept. I don’t know if I could have believed that my little brother looked up to me, that I had qualities worth looking up to.

This doesn’t excuse what I did, it merely explains it. Brian, I apologize for not acting like a big brother. Thank you for seeing me as a big brother anyway.

As for me, I do feel worthy after many long years of personal growth. It’s been hard work. I have to remind myself that I spent the first four decades of my life beating myself up. When placed in this perspective, I’ve made amazing progress in the last 15 years.

Looking back, I do see that Brian did look up to me, because he got involved in many of the things I did, both good and bad. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Like my brother, I was raised Catholic. And like my brother, I am now agnostic. When Brian and I were teens, our family was selected by the Knights of Columbus as Catholic family of the year for entire state of Mississippi. It’s hard to question one’s faith in this environment.

While I was still a practicing Catholic, I judged Brian for having a civil ceremony instead of getting married in the Church. Being judged is a huge trigger for me, and yet I did it to Brian.

Brian, I’m sorry for my role in making you and Carla feel like outsiders to the family. I have a habit of judging. I picked it up from childhood when Dad judged me. I didn’t like it back then, and it fundamentally changed the way I see myself. I’m working on being less judgmental and promise I’ll continue to do so.

A year ago I started a web site called Healing for Heathens (healingforheathens.com). I have yet to do much with it because my partner in this endeavor took time to finish graduate school. Its audience are those who have been hurt by the judgment and exclusion of people who embrace orthodoxy (literally “right belief”). That includes orthodoxy in all its forms, not just religious. Funny how I’ve ended up championing the cause of people who—like my brother—I used to judge.

As penitent as this letter has ended up being, I don’t speak from the perspective of shame. Not anymore. Instead, I take accountability for what I did. This letter has opened up an unexpected area of self-reflection for me.

Brian and Carla truly love their only child, their son Benny. If love could guarantee a positive outcome, then Benny will have a very happy, successful life. Brian and Carla had him later in life. So Benny’s been a very young cousin to our children; more of a nephew than a playmate. Benny was by far the most excited one at our family Christmas gatherings!

Even as a child, Brian had a free-spiritedness about him; whereas I was more inhibited. I remember we both liked the same girl. He asked her out, while I didn’t tell anybody, not her and not him. Even after they stopped dating, I still didn’t ask her out.

Brian is open-minded and egalitarian. He views issues from a perspective of fairness and kindness.

Brian is sensitive, empathetic and compassionate. He stands up for the weak and oppressed.

I’ve somewhat lost track of Brian over the years, what he’s doing and how he’s doing. I get updates occasionally. It would be nice to have a second chance to be a big brother. Frankly, I’m not sure what a big brother is “supposed” to look like now that we’re adults. But I’m willing to at least be a friend. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from coaching others, it’s that it’s never too late.