My Brother / Our Story…

My Brother is a painful topic for me. I can’t talk about where we presently are without talking about the past and what got us to today. This is our story and there is much to resolve….I’m not sure how to do that….but I’m gonna give it one last try….one last….

My older Brother Jason was adopted because our parents not only had difficulty conceiving, but because they suffered several miscarriages. I know more about my older Brother’s adoption then he ever cared to know, simply because I asked…Jason never did. From the hundreds of baby photos of him you could see that Jason was wanted from the moment he arrived. He was adopted from birth. The photos reveal a curly blonde haired boy with stunning blue eyes. My parents tried several fertility treatments in the 60’s – one which included some sort of radiation therapy…or so I have been told. About a year into their happy life as a family of three my parents learned that they were pregnant…again…perhaps this pregnancy would go full term and they would joyfully have 2 children. Their wishes came true and they had another boy - Jeffrey. Jason and Jeffrey were only 2 years apart and would grow to be best friends. The photo album grew. These two best buds watched the first snow fall together in their footsie PJs, tippy-toed up on the sofa in front of the picture window, they took baths together and shared a bedroom. Four years later my Mom became pregnant again, with me…their third child. During the early stages of her pregnancy with me she did have a few scares with spotting. But nothing could ever prepare a parent for what they were about to face with one of their beautiful boys. While they were pregnant with me they learned that Jeffrey had a brainstem tumor. He was about 4 years old at the time. My Mother asked her ob/gyn if she should abort her pregnancy with me due to all of the stress and the spotting – plus fear that I would be sick too. Obviously, that did not happen. I was born into a very sad household. How do you welcome one child into the world while one is dying? There are only a handful of baby photos of me. It was not a joyful time in our home. When I was about a year old and the boys were 5 and 7 years, my Father’s sister was checked into a mental institution for one of her bipolar meltdowns (gee, I wonder where I get it from) – she was a single mother and my parents bravely stepped in to welcome a 3rd boy into the house (the same age as Jeffrey – 5 years old)….even with Jeffrey dying. I may have only been a baby…but I swear I remember this time. I loved having three older boys around. From family photos that I have kept…because they were too sad for anyone to keep on hand – you could still see the youthful joy in Jason’s face. He was the oldest and loved his 2 best friends – his brother Jeffrey and his cousin Daniel. The 3 musketeers – they all slept in one room (right next to mine). They dressed the same. Eventually Daniel’s Mother got better and Jeffrey got sicker. Daniel went back to California to be with his Mom and Jeffrey went into the hospital. Jason was left alone with a baby and a housekeeper. Mom and Dad were at the hospital most of the time. We did have relatives to pitch in on our care. Jeffrey died when he was 6 years old. A parent never recovers from losing a child…and Jason at only 8 years old lost his roommate, best friend and brother.

Was it the radiation therapy or the stress that made my Mom sick? We’ll never know. At only 37 years old my Mother was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I was 4 and my Brother was 10 years old. The photos from that time (and there aren’t many) reveal a family that was forcing a smile. When Jeffrey died my Mom and Dad got a summer home on Cape Cod – mostly to give them peace. I love Cape Cod – but it also stirs up painful memories of my Mom being sick and our fight for happiness. In my fourth birthday photo…my Mother, Brother and I are gathered around my beautiful homemade cake (my Mom loved to bake…even when sick). I was in my favorite lavender dress and I looked sad. My eyes were red with tears, my Brother looks awkward and angry and my Mother looks exhausted. That would be our last summer with our Mom on Cape Cod. The house was filled with her artwork from that summer for the next 20 years. She did everything she could to keep beauty around us – even after she was gone. The following summer she was too sick to return and in the fall of 1976 she died at 39 years old. I was 6 years old and Jason was 12.

I remember looking through pictures that were tucked into a drawer in our dining room when I was about 8 years old. I found a picture of Jeffrey, but did not know who he was. He had the same eyes as me…I was confused…I did not remember. All I knew was that I had one brother –who was 6 years older then me, and seemed to hate my guts.

From the moment my Mother died…my Brother shut down. First he was adopted, then he lost his best friend, then his mother died. He told a therapist that everything he loves, dies. He never spoke to a therapist again - he just shut down. I have spent my entire life trying to love him and be loved back. I have always been awkward around him, I looked up to him, and I also feared him. Jason quickly turned into “trouble” by the time he was 13 years old. He was hanging out with a shady neighbor. He lit a garage on fire with firecrackers when he was 14 and was having big parties at the house when he was just 15 and our Dad was busy dating. He would leave me at home alone when he was supposed to be babysitting me. He would hit me…but the yelling and ignoring me was even worse. He had a way of just looking at me that would make me cry. I longed for his love…I still do.

In the albums of every major family event you can see me crying in the photos. The back-story to those tears ALWAYS leads to my Brother. It was not always something he said, sometimes it was what he didn’t say. I am extremely sensitive, he is extremely insensitive. His Bar Mitzvah was less then a year after our Mother passed. He managed to smile in the photos, but it was a lot for me, I was still just 6 years old, wearing a blue dress that our housekeeper picked out for me…I wanted my Mom. My Brother called me a baby…and I cried. "Click". At our Dad’s wedding to our Stepmother I was 11 years and awkwardly wearing a white crape dress that my future stepmother picked out for me. At that time I was often forced to wear whatever she bought for her daughter who was 9 months older then me…whether I liked it or not. Us kids were about to walk down the isle, my Brother called me a baby, I started to cry. "Click". At my own Bat Mitzvah…I was chubby and wearing a brown and black checked wool coat-dress that my Stepmother made me wear (yuck!), my Brother called me a fucking baby (he was getting older and meaner), I started to cry. "Click". When I was 2 weeks shy of my sweet 16 I got a day pass from fat camp to attend my Cousin’s wedding. It was rare that I got to see my Mother’s side of the family. My Mother’s sister pulled me aside in the ladies room and apologized for not being there for me…but she bluntly admitted that she couldn’t stand to look at my face because I reminded her too much of my Mother. I ran out of the bathroom in tears…up the hotel elevator to my Brother’s room – where his girlfriend Michelle, who I was very close with, was hanging out. She hugged me and tried to calm me down…within a few minutes my Brother was in the room yelling at me to pull it together, "Stop acting like a fucking baby!". Soon after my Stepmother was in the room too and told me to get down to the wedding. I was hysterical. "Click". From every major family event there are bound photo albums on a shelf and within them lies pictures of me crying…from those “clicked” moments.

Jason married that sweet girlfriend, Michelle, when he was 24 years old. She became my best friend. He didn’t really acknowledge me…but he didn’t yell at me anymore either. 6 years later I got cancer (Hodgkin's Disease). He never acknowledged that I was sick. I mean he seriously never said a word to me about it. His wife took care of me. Michelle alternated taking care of me with my Cousin from Connecticut (the same one who’s wedding I just mentioned). Michelle was wonderful. She was Jason’s representative. She would always say, “We are here for you” or “We understand”…it took a bit of the sting away.

When Jason was 33 years old he and Michelle had a healthy baby boy. I have never loved a child so much. I think Jason never thought he could ever feel love like that again…but his heart melted at the sight and touch of Matty. Jason was gentle and warm towards his son. He even told Michelle that when Matty would stare at a corner from his crib, he must be looking at the angel of his Grandmother (our Mother). He never talked about our Mom, so that was shocking. During this time I worked with Jason and Michelle at their special events company in New Jersey. I did everything from sales, to production management, to floral design, to event photography for their portfolio. Being in the office together and even sometimes alone in the van on our way to an events forced us to start talking. Never about anything heavy…but we were talking. I was very close with Jason's son and I was a big presence in their lives. Matty and I were best buds. I would baby-sit and sing to him for hours.

5 years ago was when my battle with my thyroid and mental illness began. It all came to a head when the combo of Synthroid and Prozac caused me to not only have sever anxiety, but crossed over to insanity. I could not function at my full time job. Faces started to look weird to me. I felt paranoid. My resting heart rate was about 105 and I could not walk down the street. I was to fly to Boston to shoot a big wedding. Not for the bride and groom, but for Jason and Michelle's portfolio. This was the big daddy of all weddings. Michelle was putting some of her own money into this event to get great photos and exposure. I was pacing in my apartment. My mental state was deteriorating…and I was expected to get on a plane the next morning. My bags were packed. Pacing. I knew I was too sick to go. I had to call Michelle and tell her…but telling Michelle was admitting that I was truly sick. Finally I did it. I called her. “Michelle, I’m so sorry, I am too sick to cover the wedding. Something is very wrong with me. I don’t know what to do…it’s worse then just a panic attack, I’m so sorry…something is wrong…” Michelle’s response was that of an over-tired and stressed out Wedding Planner, “I don’t care what is wrong with you, get on that plane before I have a fucking PANIC ATTACK!” (She said panic attack in a mocking tone). I was sobbing, “I know you want good pictures for your portfolio, but we know the bride, maybe you can pay her photographer extra money to take stills for you, or I’ll call around for a photographer…I just can’t get on a plane”. There was nothing I could say or do to help or get through to her. It was either get on the plane or that was it. She explained that she only trusted me to take these photos and beyond that compliment the rest of the conversation was mean spirited and selfish.

I did not get on the plane…as a matter of fact within a few days I was in the hospital with dehydration and began my official journey with mental illness. I have still not fully recovered. My parents tried several times to get Michelle and I to speak. She finally called to apologize about 4 months later. For me, it was too late. The one person I trusted and who knew my work ethic not only doubted me – but couldn’t even bring herself to admit she was wrong. I have sadly never been able to forgive her. She represented the gateway to my Brother and all of my trust and frustration was tied up in that friendship. I guess my way of taking my anger out on Jason has been through Michelle. (I see that now…this moment).


Jason and Michelle got divorced 3 years ago this month. By Christmas of 2005 my Brother was a mess. He was drinking heavily and borderline stalking Michelle. That is the only time Michelle and I spoke – was when she called me to “please help with Jason”. She needed me to be there for him. He was broke, behind on his rent and she was threatening to call the police if he didn’t stop calling the guy she was dating. Me, be there for Jason? I mean…I would try…but would he take my hand? I started calling him…no answer…his phone was “temporarily disconnected”. I tried the office…no answer. Finally a very direct email that if he did not return my call or respond to the email by 3:30 that day –that I was coming out to New Jersey to find him. Finally…I found him on AOL instant messenger. I said it again – “Pick-up the phone or I am coming out there”. He wrote me back. “I’m fine”. I responded, “I need to see it for myself, Dad is worried – please let me help”. I don’t recall the exact sequence from there, but I do recall being in his apartment for the first time. I noticed that Matty did not have a bed to sleep on - only a matt on the floor. I remember lots of vodka bottles and that my brother had picked up smoking cigarettes. He had always smoked a lot of pot…but now he was stoned all the time. That holiday season for the first time ever Jason joined me in Connecticut at my cousin’s house with Matty. I had been celebrating Chanukah and Christmas with my Cousin and her 3 kids for the past 15 years. For the past 15 years my cousin had invited Jason and his family up and he never came…not only did he never come…but he never even bothered to reply. This was like a dream come true. For the 2 hour trip there my Brother really spoke to me for the first time in his life. He was not only chatty…he was actually funny. I liked the person next to me. Matty was asleep in the back of the car and Jason rambled on about the girls he was dating and the anti-depressant he was on. (Perhaps he was a bit manic from the meds). We were able to share back and forth about topics we could relate to each other on. I felt high from the conversation and could not wait for my Cousin to see the new Jason. One that would let us into his life. I could also not wait for Matty to experience a real family Christmas. My Cousin even got him his own stocking to hang over the fireplace. The holiday was as magical as it sounds. The kids made cookies for Santa and we played games. When they went to sleep we wrapped gifts until 4:00am. My Brother was drunk most of the time…but we put that on the backburner…we were just so grateful to have him there. Christmas morning was early with 4 kids ready to go. The look on Matty’s face will forever be burned in my mind as one of life’s beautiful moments. He was so happy to be with his cousins. The trip back home was just as wonderful. We chatted the whole way – we picked up on our conversation from the way there. I was able to share about my mental health and I felt heard.

When we returned to my apartment Jason waited downstairs while Matty slept in the car. I went to get the air mattress that I had just bought myself. I needed for Matty to have a bed when he was at his Dad’s house. I also gave my brother $280 in cash. I could not afford it…but I told him otherwise. I even bought the gifts that he gave to our little cousin’s and told him to pay me later. You could not put a price tag on me finally having a brother.

Jason and I continued to speak at least once a week over the phone or via email for almost a year. If I called him – he would answer right away, even if it wasn’t a good time to speak. He sometimes even called me just to check in or to share a story. The weight of 30 years of pain was lifted. I finally had a brother.

In April of 2007 I became sick again. That’s what this blog is mostly about. Battling anxiety and depression…or shall I say…being bipolar. My Brother had a hard time with this. I went on medical leave from my very cool job and was talking about checking into a hospital to get off of an anti-depressant that was making me worse. He was almost begging me “Please don’t go into a hospital, that’s stupid”. May 24th of 2007 I checked into Columbia Presp Hospital and my Brother stopped talking to me. I was there for 12 nights. He never called. I sent him a long email explaining my illness when I got out and he simply replied that he was busy and would call me soon. He never did. If I called – it went right into voicemail. When Matty went off to camp I called for the address so I could send a care package…I got an email response with the address…nothing further. I finally decided it wasn’t fair to Matty and I needed to see him. By then it was winter again and it had been almost a year since I had seen Matty – they live only 20 minutes from NYC. (My heart literally hurts as I type this part of the story). I was having nightmares about Matty being all grown up and not letting me hug him anymore. I was losing time with this precious child who was 10 years old. I sent my brother an email that I knew he could not back away from:

Jason,

It is almost a year since I have seen Matty. Please look at your calendar and pick a date. I will meet you in the city.

Thanks.

He replied within a few hours with a date. I was still very sick and being out in public was hard for me…but I would do anything to see Matty. We met in Union Square on a cold day. We went to Max Brenner’s Chocolate. Matty and I talked for almost an hour straight while my Brother just nodded and look out at the crowd. I gave my nephew gifts, drawings I had done for him and told him stories. His face was beaming…and I am pretty sure mine was too. For dessert I ordered a chocolate fondue – I didn’t care that it was over-priced…I wanted to stretch the time together and watch this sweet boy roast marshmallows. Finally Jason spoke up, “Matty, why don’t you tell your Aunt about your hero letter?” - My nephew looked embarrassed…then a smile came across his angelic face. “I wrote about you in school…we had to talk about our hero and you’re my hero”. (I’m not gonna cry…I want Jason to see me for the strong woman I am now…not gonna cry…he can’t tell me I’m a baby anymore). Matty continued, “Every kid in my class had to do this project and bring their hero to school, but Dad said you were not able to come”. What? It was true that it would have been VERY hard for me to not only travel out to his school, but to speak in front of a class. But I would have fought like hell to try…had I have been given the option. As we parted ways in Union Square Matty hugged me goodbye and I promised I would see him again soon. We played a game where I kept waving from the street corner until he could no longer see me…I waved to him for almost 4 minutes as he made his way through the crowd in the park…turning back every few seconds to see if I was still waving. When they were finally out of site…I cried.

The below 4th grade project was sent to me a few weeks later…not by my Brother as he promised, but by my Stepmother.

My Hero – By Matty Z (10 years old):
(You don’t need Superpowers to be a superhero)

This is a story about my Aunt who is very generous. Whenever I see her she takes me somewhere special. Like the time in 2006 for my birthday she took me to the biggest art store in NY. The store is called Pearl Paint and she bought me tons of art supplies. I got 100 markers, a big sketch book and 3 special markers. Oh yeah, she also happens to work for the coolest kid’s channel.

My Aunt is also very thoughtful. She once took me to this big event in LA. It was amazing. I got to meet Jack Black and Ice Cube the guy from Are we Done Yet? She got me a VIP gift bag with a Fire Fly cell phone and a nice sweat shirt. My Dad and I got to go to the party afterward which was amazing.

My Aunt is always thinking of Me. She received a free game from work and gave it to me. It was a great game. I recommend it. I like to play it on my PSP video system.

Even though she lives in NYC I don’t get a chance to see her often. She works very hard with actors in kid’s television. It’s a really cool job and she works with a lot of famous people. Her office is a fun place to work and I always like to go visit her there. Thanks Aunt (blank), you are the top of my list! You really are the best Aunt I could have.

The above effected me on so many levels. It gave me great joy and at the same time made me very angry. How could he be kept from me like this? He obviously misses me and his Mom and Dad both helped him write this paper. Am I only his hero because I have a cool job? Or am I his hero because I love him unconditionally and show it through generosity and special moments? I wish his parents helped him with that message and I am not ever too busy working to see him! Ever. The other kids in my life know this - my little cousin from Connecticut wrote about me in school that same winter…I’m the cool Aunt that makes them feel special. He wrote about all of our holidays together and about how I am always there.

I have seen Matty only twice since last winter. Both times were family gatherings. He turned 11 years old on October 2nd. I sent him a video game – like I do every year. I emailed my Brother asking him where I can call Matty on his birthday and he replied to try Matty’s cell. I left a voicemail and have never heard back. I bravely left Jason a voicemail 2 weeks ago to call me. I was calm and warm…I simply said “Please call me when you have a moment”. My Stepsister told me there was a birthday party for Matty the Sunday after his birthday…I was not invited.

So now what? Do I finally forgive Michelle to have Matty back in my life? Do I confront my Brother one last time…balls to the wall…finally speak out loud and strong? What is my goal? To see Matty or is it to get the brother back that I only had for a year? It would be so much easier if I didn’t have him in my life for that one year. I would not feel the loss. You maybe asking yourself why Jason really stopped calling me…was it something more then me being in the hospital? The ONLY thing I can think of is a phone conversation with my Father where I told him that Jason does not call me back and my Father most likely said something to my Brother. That’s it. It doesn't take much for my Brother to check out when life gets too hard. From being afraid to love…because everyone he loves, dies.
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The above was written in Mid October – it took me a few weeks to post...it sat in my documents as it was very painful and I know the writing is not great (trust me…I know!). But the writing process gave me some clarity…..

Update:
I sent an email to both Michelle and Jason (yes…Michelle – his ex-wife). He was either going to respond…or I was going to reconnect with his ex-wife…my old friend. The choice was his…

Jason & Michelle-

Hope you are both doing well. I have been trying to get in touch with Matty since his birthday – via emails and voicemails to Jason and voicemails to Matty’s cell. I have not seen Matty since the family Memorial Day gathering in New Jersey. Matty is very important to me and I am pretty certain I am important to him too. Can you please help me stay connected with your awesome son? It is still hard for me to travel – but I will do whatever I must to see him. All of my weekends are free coming up other than 11/15.

I know things have been strained with each of us individually – for various painful reasons. I am not looking to fight or point fingers – only to move forward for the sake of Matty. We are all good people with lots of hurts. Matty is very loved – by many.

Please let me know how you would like to proceed as his parents. Please also let me know that you have received this email.

Thanks.

Michelle responded within minutes. She started with how much she loves and misses me. We picked a date to get together in the city. I finally saw Matty last Sunday 11/2/08. We had brunch with his Mom and her boyfriend. There were some old patterns from his Mom…like they were 40 minutes late for our reservation…and I didn’t know her boyfriend was coming…but I stayed calm and focused on Matty. It was painful for me to sit across from Michelle - but I now see that my anger towards her is not her fault…rather a default of my anger towards my Brother. We will see each other again soon. My Brother never replied to the email…it was sent 2 weeks ago.