Generational Pain ...

Lost his soul gained in his own world
Originally uploaded by B℮n
The speaker at my home group meeting tonight shared his story in a somber, quiet way while it still packed a powerful punch. In his fading yet recognizable Irish accent, he told a tale of drinking that began with stories of his grandfather, to his father, and then finally with him. Three generations of men in Ireland, perhaps many more before that he simply did not know of, all battled the bottle hard. His grandfather, he found out, was regularly beaten as a child. His father, in turn, got more of the same from his raging alcoholic father. Our speaker, the youngest of 5 boys in his family, was able to dodge his father's thrashing, due to the fact that by the time he was born, his pop's alcoholism was in the later stages and his trembling hands could barely pick up the pints of booze, let alone have enough strength for beating his boys.

Our speaker shared that, in spite of the fact that his father was always a rip-roaring smashed , incoherent, falling down drunk, he thought that this was "normal". It's just what Irish fathers do. He got his first pack of cigarettes for his Holy Communion at age 10 and was drinking pints with the other kids by the time he was 11. He was an alcoholic by age 18. He came to America shortly after and began tending bar as his career path. Got married quickly and began the same exact pattern as his father did with his family that his father did with his family and so on. The miracle is that he broke the cycle of generational pain. At the end of his share, he reveled in the fact that the rooms of AA gave him a place to let off steam, to express his feelings, to communicate what his father and grandfather never were able to because of the deathgrip the booze had on them. He shared that his college-age kids had never drank that he knew of and that he prays that the recovery he's been able to model for them will help keep them on a sober road as well.

Generational pain, however, is not found in the bottom of the bottle where select members swig from, but is instead embedded in the soil where the family seeds are planted. The more extensive and pervasive the history of pain, the more toxic the ground, damaging the roots and hindering growth.

In my family, the historic pain seemed to be most troublesome on my father's side. His grandfather was an alcoholic and beat his father. His father was an alcoholic and beat my father and his brother as well as their mentally retarded sister. My father's mother suffered from depression. Her mother had Schizophrenia. I only remember my grandmother as a sickly, bitter woman. My father became sickly and bitter too. While he did not physically beat us, we were pretty well bruised psychologically and emotionally as a result of my father's drinking.

My brother, sister, and I seem to have broken this cycle in our family. I was the only one of the 3 who became an alcoholic. My sister has the once-in-a-blue-moon Pina Colada for a special celebration. My brother may have a glass of wine every once in awhile. For the most part, none of us would be classified as drinkers. My sisters' children have experimented with pot and booze, yet do not seem to be in any danger. My brother's kids are a little too young yet, so we can only wish that they live clean, healthy lives as adults. While I do not have children, I have been able to be a model of healthy living for my students. I am "out" as a recovering alcoholic. I do not partake in the faculty happy hours nor cross inappropriate boundaries as some professors do and go out and party with the students.

More impactful, however, is that each of us, like tonight's speaker, has learned to communicate and express our feelings, slowly but surely. We have all experienced therapy, except for my mother. We talk more openly and honestly today. I have shared my vulnerability with my siblings and to some extent with my mother. The "secrets" are being let loose from their hiding places. I have been learning to "name" what I feel and see so that I can practice it within my family, rather than hold things in or ignore or deny that issues exist like what I experienced in my childhood and early adulthood.

It has been a long time in the making, but I can finally feel the healing of this deep-seeded generational pain. A new chapter is being written in the history books of my family. And I am one of the proud co-authors. May we each be smiling from the heavens on generations to come.