Hi,

          I just came back to this site a few days ago to post about my agony of dealing with my AH and his drinking. Last night he went back to AA, this time to a different meeting. This meeting was in another town, other people. They were glad he was there and supported him. He came home still angry and defensive at first, but then told me how the people were very supportive and were even surprised when he started to clean up the place and take out the trash (he doesn't even do that at home, lol). He was quite proud of himself. So today I have some sliver of hope. And I am determined to change, too.

Today I was thinking about how I have a renewed relationship with my Aunt through facebook. We connected over the winter and I wanted to tell the story of how we connected on a closer level, something that was meant to happen. First, some background. 

When I was growing up, my Dad came from a family of three brothers. His Dad was an intense alcoholic. I never met either of my grandparents on my Dad's side, both his mother and father died at 57, before I was born. They obviously did not take care of themselves. I think my Dad worried over the years, since no one in his family made it past their late 50's. But now he is 73 and is going strong. He has always been a busy body, but a borderline alcoholic, or perhaps a functioning alcoholic.

 My parents just celebrated their 50th anniversary, but there has been much sacrifice and "protecting" and "justifying" and "covering" for him over the years by my Mother. He basically still gets his way and controls most of what they do. He held the same job for years and had a good retirement. She stayed at home all the years raising us, and everything they did was always his decision, even where they settled in their retirement. As a result, my Mom does not drive, cannot write a check, cannot do a lot of things for herself. She comes from another country, and through the years has told me that she felt like an outsider to my Dad's family.

As I was growing up, she would complain about my Aunt-- I will just call her "June." Aunt June was married to my Dad's older brother, Frank. He would wind up having a history of severe alcoholism that would eventually lead to his death at 60. My Mother would always say that Aunt June was rude, not accepting of her and jealous. My Mother actually spoke nicely of Frank, my Dad's brother. She would even make comments that almost implied that Frank wished he had a wife like her, that she could have been more accomodating, be the good wife, since eventually Aunt June divorced Uncle Frank. She could take no more.

I always liked Aunt June. She seemed strong, intelligent, not ignorant like some of the other family members. Even as a child, I always knew that her life felt complicated, chaotic. I knew this because of the way my uncle treated her and how drunk he was all the time. How racist he was and how much negativity and hate there was inside him for a man that went to church. I knew that he called my Dad up many times drunk and crazy and that my Aunt would even call my Dad asking for his help. And I knew from going to her house and visiting my cousins, who were always way out of control. And they had adopted two children who were brought into this turmoil. I was blessed compared to my cousins, who seemed to have so many issues with discipline, with conflict, with life in general. But I didn't really put it all together at the time. I didn't know it had anything to do with alcohol. Seeing lots of alcohol around me was just normal. I just remember my Mom's comments, which were always negative about Aunt June.

Years later, when I moved away from home, I went back to my hometown for one of my cousins weddings. My Aunt June was there and we had a nice conversation. My parents and my brother and I went to church every Sunday throughout my life. Today I do not attend church and I am not religious, but I remember going to my cousins wedding and sitting next to my Mother, and she was gossiping and talking negatively about Aunt June, all these years later and she was only in the next pew! I shushed my Mother loudly and told her later to stop saying hurtful things about her. She got mad at me any time I went against something she said.

Now many years later, after marrying my AH and having two kids, I now understand what my Aunt June went through. We found each other on facebook and she is amazing. And she told me the most horrific stories about living with my Uncle Frank that I could have never in my worst scenerios have imagined. We have a pact that we do not tell the rest of the family, because they have no understanding. But she understands my relationship to my AH, even though she has never met him. My mother doesn't understand at all.

In fact, it was my Mother who willingly gave alcohol to my AH when she visited last time, when I asked her not to tempt him (at the time he was sober for 3 weeks but still vulnerable)she thought I was asleep with the kids and then told my AH to hide the beer bottles. And it is my Mother who tells me that all those years Aunt June exaggerated. I cannot believe the sickness that my own mother still has. I know she would never understand. Aunt June and Uncle Frank had adopted two children. I never knew the reason why. And Uncle Frank always complained to my father that they never had sex, so that when their own child was born, it was a surprise. My own parents believed all of my uncle's lies. They couldn't see through to what Aunt June was going through. They just blamed her. Instead I now know that Aunt June went through tremendous emotional abuse and some maybe even physical. But I'm so glad we are able to understand each other now. And this cousin, her own son that was born, was always incredibly close to her. Closer than I was to my parents. I now know why. He stood by her, tried to protect her, and finally told her to leave him. He gave her the final courage to let go and heal.

My uncle remarried a few years later, and it was amazing to me that anyone would want to marry this man, he was so sick. So sick that when I would come home to visit and my Dad had invited him over, his bullying, racist remarks and drunkness would cause confrontations, and even fights with other family members, sometimes where they wouldn't speak for several years. I was often "kicked" under the table by my Mother, who told me not to cause waves, for fear he might lash out. The devastation that he wrecked through two families is amazing to me. And the one thing I always picture in my mind is a photograph my Dad kept in an album of Aunt June and Uncle Frank when they first married. They both looked so young and beautiful, so hopeful, so fresh. But it was not to be and life goes on and we learn to heal the pain. Just thought I'd share.

Minaret