The relationship I once had with my family as a unit feels irretrievably broken. With the exception of phone calls with my dad, I no longer speak to most of them because I’ve gone no-contact, and there are times when I feel like this effect has created for me such a great loss. Then there are other times when I can get by as if my family doesn’t exist.
Yet, the truth of the matter is that my family will always exist to me. Even if they physically die, they will always exist within my heart and within my memories. That’s why no matter how much time passes away from them, I still do hurt when I know they might be hurting too. My heart still feels the pain of a togetherness that has now become separation.
“My family is broken and in need of repair.”
This was my prayer to God on the night my father told me some concerning things about my brother. “My family is broken and in need of repair. My brother is broken and in need of repair. I don’t even know how to pray for him. I can’t change him. I don’t know what to do. I can’t help him. My God, will YOU help him? Please.”
I’d avoided calling my dad most of that particular day until I actually forgot to call him, but as the night rolled around, I felt a small tug that I should contact him after revisiting a text message he’d sent me earlier that morning. I had taken note that over a course of days prior to this one that my dad’s phone calls to me at odd times had become bothersome to me. One night he’d even called me with an urgency to pray for my brother, only telling me that my brother was hearing voices and doing odd things.
At first, the seriousness of it all didn’t quite register to me because my brother is always doing odd things. The nature of his entire life has been at odds in general and with my dad since I can remember, and I was sick and tired of being the one to always come to the family’s rescue for things that I didn’t consider all that serious. In reality, I considered their urgencies to be ways to manipulate me back into the circle that I was continuing to distance myself away from because of the toxicity.
Yet, this time was different. When I returned my dad’s call, my dad sounded resolute, calm, and even a bit indifferent. I did not hear the usual inflection or tone of a voice that always indicated he wanted something from me or that he just wanted to gab on about the usual people I didn’t know or the things he always talked about. Instead, this conversation was a lot more serious in tone and close to home and heart.
My dad explained that my brother had asked to spend the night with him for a few days. Although he didn’t tell me the reason, I had figured that something might have occurred between my mother and my brother – like their usual symbiotic argument, but I didn’t know for sure. My dad simply said that my brother requested a sleepover; so, he allowed him to do so.
Although my dad was hesitant at first, my brother’s pleading and kind behavior gave my dad a change of heart. Things between the two of them seemed good, and they had good conversation. However, later on, my father said my brother was just being very manipulative and cunning to get what he wanted in terms of shelter. There was a larger scheme on hand, and my brother was supposedly building up to that point.
Apparently, while staying with my dad, my brother was hallucinating and behaving strangely, claiming that he was seeing dead people. Although the first night was a usual visit aside from this episode, my dad thought nothing of it. Since my brother stated that he wasn’t on drugs, that was the end of discussion. Yet, the next night, my dad said that my brother behaved so strangely that he actually felt fear. He was still hallucinating – claiming to see dead people after him.
At some point during this episode, my brother suddenly stood up and walked over to where my dad was sitting and hovered over him with a menacing look. My dad said it was strange and made him feel uncomfortable. There was something within my brother’s eyes that just seemed off, but when my dad told him to sit back down on his side of the room, my brother did as he said with no hesitation.
However, when my dad got up to leave the room, my brother got up and lunged towards him. For an elderly man, my dad is still quite agile and physically fit. He sensed my brother coming at him before it actually occurred so that he was able to dodge the lunge. Since my dad is a lot taller than my brother, my dad was able to subdue my brother and hold him down. My dad said that he tried to hold my brother down with all his might but could feel the bulk of my brother, saying that he was very strong.
Unable to call 911 himself, my dad said he had to yell out for help because he thought if he let my brother go, it might be the end of his life. Fortunately, a neighbor appeared and assisted by calling 911. My brother was then taken to the hospital and placed to receive care within the psychiatric unit. He’d been there for a few days until he reached back out to my dad for a place to stay, but because of my dad’s concerns and fear for his safety, he refused to help my brother. In all honesty, I couldn’t blame my dad for his refusal.
Broken … In Need of Repair
As my father continued to talk about what happened, my heart began to “feel” again. Most often, I detach myself from the thoughts about my family and the emotions about them too, but this time I couldn’t hold the feelings back. Although my brother is a middle-aged adult, he’s still my little brother, and I love him. I could feel my heart pound as if a million pieces of it had been crushed, and I wanted to cry. In fact, I needed to cry, but I waited for my dad to finish talking.
I could hear within my dad’s voice a hurtful decision to go no-contact from my brother … that he would never take my brother in again because he was afraid of doing so for his own safety. He said that once my brother was out of the house, he noticed that a knife was missing from its place in the knife holder. He would later find the knife hidden between the pillows of the couch where my brother sat the night he’d made a lunge for my dad. Upon hearing this, my heart felt even more pierced, and I couldn’t bare it.
I told my dad the best thing he could do was to remain no-contact and that hopefully my brother would get the help he needs. The only problem is that both my dad and me both discovered that my brother’s use of the hospital proved to be another ploy for my brother to set up residence with my dad. When the hospital would release him, they wanted to release him in the care of my dad. Thankfully, my dad refused, and for whatever reason, a bell rang inside of my mind because I recall this being the same trick my mother used to attempt to set up residence in my home some years ago as well.
I do not know whether my brother intended to truly harm my dad or just use that as his way to get medical attention for the purpose of taking up residence with my dad by force. However, I don’t blame my dad for not wanting him in his home after such an occurrence. My brother’s behavior took away what little trust that was left between my dad and him away from their relationship. After all, my brother is an adult and needs to be accountable for his own well-being. Although autistic, he has been able to live on his own all of his adult life and already knows that his actions have consequences.
I was just saddened by hearing all this. In fact, I was so grieved that all I could do when I hung up the phone from talking to my dad was cry. I cried soreful and painful tears. I cried tears that I didn’t know that I had for my brother or my dad. When I tried to pray, I simply couldn’t utter a single word. All I could do was cry and think that being both a victimizer and a victim of narcissistic abuse is quite crippling to the point that one almost cannot escape if they don’t push for their own healing. They might remain stuck in the state of victimhood or become victimizers themselves as a way of lashing out.
I don’t want to make any excuses for my brother. His life is his own cross to bare, but I love him dearly. I love him so much that I’d do almost anything to relieve his pain if I could, but I don’t have that kind of power. All I can do is pray for him and hope that he comes to a place of desperation in getting the help he needs to begin the process of healing for himself. It’s the journey I had to take and anyone else who’s walking this journey of healing from abuse.
During the conversation with my dad, I wondered if my brother left the home he shares with my mom to get away from the toxicity, but I don’t know for certain. Maybe he still harbors bitterness for the negative parts in our lives that my dad also played, but I don’t know that either. I just know that my dad has reached the end of his dealings with my brother, and I hope that his decision to go no-contact doesn’t yield him greater harm. I pray for my family’s protection, but I feel absolutely powerless to do anything to help when there’s really nothing I can do.
My family is broken and has been broken for a very long time. We are in need of repair … in need of repentance … in need of restoration.
My Voice Unchained 