something personal
Today was the last day of our seminar on Capturing Kids' Hearts. Not the touchy feely hold hands and sing kumbaya encounter I thought it would be. Interesting tips. good ideas all around.
One thing we did: Sentimental Circle.
We were to bring a sentimental item and share the story behind it. I took a picture of my nephew. the picture itself wasn't the sentimental item. Neither, really is my nephew, even though he's very important to me. But what he represents. I need to share this, so please don't make fun of me, or roll your eyes or think I'm a sap.
I said in an earlier post that I haven't shared much about my personal life, and really there's not much to tell. But this is the story that the picture of my nephew represents. Most of this took place over ten years ago, so sequence may be off, and I know I"ll forget things, but overall, this is the way it went.
My parents divorced when I was 6 and my brother was 5. We moved 250 miles from our home to live with my grandmother. She was old, had my mother late in life and within four years of us moving here, she died of a brain tumor that had metasticized from breast cancer. I was nine.
After that it was just Mom, Alex* and I. Mom was a CNA and had to work all the time just to make the bills - and those didn't get paid sometimes, because she just didn't have it. We didn't have a lot of money, and not too many friends. Just the ones around our neighborhood, and they weren't in the best situation at home either. So Alex and I really had only each other. We were kids, and kids don't know about the world, at least we didn't, so we thought we had it made with little to no supervision, older friends, and lots of free time. We were also damn smart, both of us. We didn't struggle in school and rarely had homework, because we did it in school. There was nothing we had to be accountable for at home.
I never really developed self discipline. I never knew that I was hurting over my parents' divorce, so I ate, and read, and didn't do much else. I'm overweight because of that tendency. I still struggle with making the right decisions concerning self discipline. I still have issues with food, weight, work, friends. I started drinking at 15. Having sex at 15. I wasn't promiscuous; I had standards. But I don't regard sex as being the end all be all. It's not necessarily an emotional thing for me. Hmmm. I think of sex very much like a guy, let's just leave it at that. I managed to keep my grades up and graduate, but I did a stint in rehab. So did my brother. And that is the meat of this post.
My brother wasn't just hurt by our parents' divorce, he was angry. Angry with no outlet. He was so young, and had no idea, really what he was angry about. In 4th grade, he punched his teacher and threw a desk at the man. He got into fights all the time. He was very aggressive. When he got into middle school, he was about 13, because they failed him in kindergarten because he couldn't tie his shoes. Yes, that was the reason. Mom looked into it. Anyway. once he got into middle school, he started hanging with a different crowd of kids. He started drinking, fighting more often, getting suspended, getting in trouble with the law for vandalizing things and skipping school.
He went to court, told them about the drinking, and was ordered into rehab. He was 14. He spent 9 months in rehab, came out and got worse. He started smoking pot. He started stealing to get his drugs. He couldn't read, literally. His brain was so fried that he couldn't put letters together to form words, nor words together to form ideas. He could not read. He was busted several times and sent to jail for months at a time. He did a stint in Eckerd Youth Development Center when he was 15. He got out of there, and immediately went back to his old friends. He started hanging with the local trafficers in our area. Note I say trafficers, NOT dealers. He'd buy his drugs from petty dealers on the 'Beachfront', but one of his friends' mother knew the local cartel, so to speak. Alex became an enforcer. From there, he moved onto methamphetimines. He was 16.
Meth nearly destroyed my brother. He'd stay up for weeks at a time. Breaking into houses, cars, anything to get stuff he could fence to support his habit. He stole from me. I can't count how much he took from me. He got skeletal. He's an average size guy: 5'10" and at one point he only weighed about 115 lbs. From the time he was 16 to the time he was 18, meth ruled our lives. His personality changed drastically. Mom and I were held captive by his rampages, his outbursts, and his theivery, by his incarcerations. We even kicked him out of the house at one point, because we just couldn't LIVE with the way he was treating us and the things he was doing.
Then, he turned 18.
Everything up to this point, all the broken laws, all the drug related activities, all the charges had been while he was a juvenile. The summer after he turned 18, he was hanging with his friends after getting out of jail. He came out and told them that he couldn't be the same kid anymore, that at 18, anything he got charged with was going to go on his adult record, and was going to ruin his life. He WANTED to make the change. BUT. He was still doing drugs: rock, meth, and pot. The meth was getting hard to come buy, because several of the trafficers had been busted and sent up the river. But he was still smokin' pot, and basin' rock. But he still wanted to change, and was telling his friends that he couldn't do the things they were doing (stealing, B&E, fencing) because he didn't want to go back to jail.
Well. His friends got hungry. They ordered a pizza and had it delivered to our house. They passed off a forged check. Dominoes called the cops, the driver identified my brother as the one who passed the check (he didn't, it was another of his friends who looked enough like him at the time to confuse the driver) and the cops pulled him in. This part of the story - how he got out of that - I'm not really sure of. I think he ended up turning up some evidence against his friends for burglaries committed while he'd been in jail, but I just don't know. What ended up happening was the cops let him go.
But something else had happened since his return from that last stint in jail. He'd gotten together with his childhood girlfriend (with whom he'd run away at one point when he was 14.). He really loved this girl, and wanted to make a life with her, and something clicked in him, letting him know that he was never going to be able to do that here with his 'friends' around. He knew he needed to make a change. So he called our Dad, with whom he'd made his peace during his stints in rehab, and asked if he could go live with him up there, and if so, could he bring his girlfriend with whom he wanted to build a life.
My dad said yes, with some conditions: job, rent, responsibility. Understandable.
So Alex went and took his girlfriend with him. That was the beginning of the change. He stopped doing drugs altogether because he didn't have the money. My dad got him a job at the restaurant he USED to work at, because he was still friends with the boss. (Funnily enough, I ended up working there too, when I moved to go to school). Alex saved money. His girlfriend's family gave them a car. He became more independent. Then a position opened up at the chicken processing plant where my dad worked. Alex applied, and was hired. Shortly after that, he and his girlfriend were pregnant. They got married.
They moved into a modest TINY house. Started saving money again, and bought a better car. Moved into a bigger place. And settled into a life. A real life without drugs. Without crime. Raising a son. Since then, He's steadily improved his life: newer cars, better luxury items. About five years ago, they decided to move from the small town they were in to Jacksonville. They bought a trailer. Alex got a job as a foreman in a Pharmaceutical Warehouse. He works for Ranbaxy Pharmaceuticals. After two years of living in the trailer, they had saved enough money to buy a house.
Now, my brother is 30 years old. He holds a position of management at the company he works for - he's gone as far as he can go without a degree. He's paying on his own house, has two cars in his garage. His son is a successful kid in school, bright, independent, relatively well adjusted. Yes, they've had some issues in the last couple of years, almost to the point of divorce, but they've stuck it out. He still struggles with anger. But at least he feels it.
He's my inspiration. He's made a life for himself and his family and he FIGHTS to keep it. He works on his relationship with his wife and his son. He works on his mobility at his job. He's considering college to obtain a business degree. He WANTS things. He wants to improve. He's a success, in every sense of the word.
And no one in this town thought he'd amount to anything. Even I reached a point where I had given up on him. But he proved everybody wrong. And I'm so proud of him for that. I'm so proud of him as my brother, as a man, and as a friend.
Was that my story to tell? Probably not. But I want to put it out there for the simple reason that NOTHING is out of reach for ANYONE.
ETA:
My brother's name isn't Alex, but I'm trying to maintain his privacy. I can't remember if I've mentioned his name before in my journal, and if not, I'd like to keep it that way. His is a fairly unique name, and would probably turn up in searches, and I don't want that to happen. JIC.
One thing we did: Sentimental Circle.
We were to bring a sentimental item and share the story behind it. I took a picture of my nephew. the picture itself wasn't the sentimental item. Neither, really is my nephew, even though he's very important to me. But what he represents. I need to share this, so please don't make fun of me, or roll your eyes or think I'm a sap.
I said in an earlier post that I haven't shared much about my personal life, and really there's not much to tell. But this is the story that the picture of my nephew represents. Most of this took place over ten years ago, so sequence may be off, and I know I"ll forget things, but overall, this is the way it went.
My parents divorced when I was 6 and my brother was 5. We moved 250 miles from our home to live with my grandmother. She was old, had my mother late in life and within four years of us moving here, she died of a brain tumor that had metasticized from breast cancer. I was nine.
After that it was just Mom, Alex* and I. Mom was a CNA and had to work all the time just to make the bills - and those didn't get paid sometimes, because she just didn't have it. We didn't have a lot of money, and not too many friends. Just the ones around our neighborhood, and they weren't in the best situation at home either. So Alex and I really had only each other. We were kids, and kids don't know about the world, at least we didn't, so we thought we had it made with little to no supervision, older friends, and lots of free time. We were also damn smart, both of us. We didn't struggle in school and rarely had homework, because we did it in school. There was nothing we had to be accountable for at home.
I never really developed self discipline. I never knew that I was hurting over my parents' divorce, so I ate, and read, and didn't do much else. I'm overweight because of that tendency. I still struggle with making the right decisions concerning self discipline. I still have issues with food, weight, work, friends. I started drinking at 15. Having sex at 15. I wasn't promiscuous; I had standards. But I don't regard sex as being the end all be all. It's not necessarily an emotional thing for me. Hmmm. I think of sex very much like a guy, let's just leave it at that. I managed to keep my grades up and graduate, but I did a stint in rehab. So did my brother. And that is the meat of this post.
My brother wasn't just hurt by our parents' divorce, he was angry. Angry with no outlet. He was so young, and had no idea, really what he was angry about. In 4th grade, he punched his teacher and threw a desk at the man. He got into fights all the time. He was very aggressive. When he got into middle school, he was about 13, because they failed him in kindergarten because he couldn't tie his shoes. Yes, that was the reason. Mom looked into it. Anyway. once he got into middle school, he started hanging with a different crowd of kids. He started drinking, fighting more often, getting suspended, getting in trouble with the law for vandalizing things and skipping school.
He went to court, told them about the drinking, and was ordered into rehab. He was 14. He spent 9 months in rehab, came out and got worse. He started smoking pot. He started stealing to get his drugs. He couldn't read, literally. His brain was so fried that he couldn't put letters together to form words, nor words together to form ideas. He could not read. He was busted several times and sent to jail for months at a time. He did a stint in Eckerd Youth Development Center when he was 15. He got out of there, and immediately went back to his old friends. He started hanging with the local trafficers in our area. Note I say trafficers, NOT dealers. He'd buy his drugs from petty dealers on the 'Beachfront', but one of his friends' mother knew the local cartel, so to speak. Alex became an enforcer. From there, he moved onto methamphetimines. He was 16.
Meth nearly destroyed my brother. He'd stay up for weeks at a time. Breaking into houses, cars, anything to get stuff he could fence to support his habit. He stole from me. I can't count how much he took from me. He got skeletal. He's an average size guy: 5'10" and at one point he only weighed about 115 lbs. From the time he was 16 to the time he was 18, meth ruled our lives. His personality changed drastically. Mom and I were held captive by his rampages, his outbursts, and his theivery, by his incarcerations. We even kicked him out of the house at one point, because we just couldn't LIVE with the way he was treating us and the things he was doing.
Then, he turned 18.
Everything up to this point, all the broken laws, all the drug related activities, all the charges had been while he was a juvenile. The summer after he turned 18, he was hanging with his friends after getting out of jail. He came out and told them that he couldn't be the same kid anymore, that at 18, anything he got charged with was going to go on his adult record, and was going to ruin his life. He WANTED to make the change. BUT. He was still doing drugs: rock, meth, and pot. The meth was getting hard to come buy, because several of the trafficers had been busted and sent up the river. But he was still smokin' pot, and basin' rock. But he still wanted to change, and was telling his friends that he couldn't do the things they were doing (stealing, B&E, fencing) because he didn't want to go back to jail.
Well. His friends got hungry. They ordered a pizza and had it delivered to our house. They passed off a forged check. Dominoes called the cops, the driver identified my brother as the one who passed the check (he didn't, it was another of his friends who looked enough like him at the time to confuse the driver) and the cops pulled him in. This part of the story - how he got out of that - I'm not really sure of. I think he ended up turning up some evidence against his friends for burglaries committed while he'd been in jail, but I just don't know. What ended up happening was the cops let him go.
But something else had happened since his return from that last stint in jail. He'd gotten together with his childhood girlfriend (with whom he'd run away at one point when he was 14.). He really loved this girl, and wanted to make a life with her, and something clicked in him, letting him know that he was never going to be able to do that here with his 'friends' around. He knew he needed to make a change. So he called our Dad, with whom he'd made his peace during his stints in rehab, and asked if he could go live with him up there, and if so, could he bring his girlfriend with whom he wanted to build a life.
My dad said yes, with some conditions: job, rent, responsibility. Understandable.
So Alex went and took his girlfriend with him. That was the beginning of the change. He stopped doing drugs altogether because he didn't have the money. My dad got him a job at the restaurant he USED to work at, because he was still friends with the boss. (Funnily enough, I ended up working there too, when I moved to go to school). Alex saved money. His girlfriend's family gave them a car. He became more independent. Then a position opened up at the chicken processing plant where my dad worked. Alex applied, and was hired. Shortly after that, he and his girlfriend were pregnant. They got married.
They moved into a modest TINY house. Started saving money again, and bought a better car. Moved into a bigger place. And settled into a life. A real life without drugs. Without crime. Raising a son. Since then, He's steadily improved his life: newer cars, better luxury items. About five years ago, they decided to move from the small town they were in to Jacksonville. They bought a trailer. Alex got a job as a foreman in a Pharmaceutical Warehouse. He works for Ranbaxy Pharmaceuticals. After two years of living in the trailer, they had saved enough money to buy a house.
Now, my brother is 30 years old. He holds a position of management at the company he works for - he's gone as far as he can go without a degree. He's paying on his own house, has two cars in his garage. His son is a successful kid in school, bright, independent, relatively well adjusted. Yes, they've had some issues in the last couple of years, almost to the point of divorce, but they've stuck it out. He still struggles with anger. But at least he feels it.
He's my inspiration. He's made a life for himself and his family and he FIGHTS to keep it. He works on his relationship with his wife and his son. He works on his mobility at his job. He's considering college to obtain a business degree. He WANTS things. He wants to improve. He's a success, in every sense of the word.
And no one in this town thought he'd amount to anything. Even I reached a point where I had given up on him. But he proved everybody wrong. And I'm so proud of him for that. I'm so proud of him as my brother, as a man, and as a friend.
Was that my story to tell? Probably not. But I want to put it out there for the simple reason that NOTHING is out of reach for ANYONE.
ETA:
My brother's name isn't Alex, but I'm trying to maintain his privacy. I can't remember if I've mentioned his name before in my journal, and if not, I'd like to keep it that way. His is a fairly unique name, and would probably turn up in searches, and I don't want that to happen. JIC.