Monday, July 20, 2009


My sister has started a Blog, (click here) and she left a comment on my post from last week.
I don't know where she may take her blog, but she has started by commenting on my Journey, which she has felt deeply and been a part of.
Here is her comment, and I hope soon she has a post up...

She says:
"There is an enormity to this day.
Bullethole’s story from the prospective of his Sister:

I am bummed that I have to submit this in part’s because you can’t understand one part without the others. I skip around (I have ADHD). I couldn’t decide the order in which to tell our story. I think that I am starting with the worst part. I hope that as I go, I can explain how it got this bad. Then I want to talk about now, which is really the best part. Everyone else I have lost has stayed lost. This time though my brother who was lost to me has been refound.

I can tell by the wonderful responses that have been made to my brother’s blog that many of you care for him deeply. I thought that some of you may want to know more about this man, this wordsmith who literally IS Lazarus. To me, he has risen from the dead. As siblings our stories are intertwined. For many years I felt that there was little emotional connection between the two of us. In alcoholic families (yes, our parent’s were very high functioning alcoholics) siblings either grow very close to each other because they need to support each other. Or, they grow distant as one sibling wants to talk about it (me) and one sibling doesn’t (him). Kids from addictive families also get assigned roles. Who gets what role is the luck of the draw. There is the hero, the saint, the comedian, the scapegoat, the lost child. For those of you not familiar explains some of this.

What made our situation a little more insidious is that our parents where unbelievably attractive and gracious people. There wasn’t anybody lying around on the couch with a bottle of liquor in a brown bag. My father was a highly successful and admired man. He was a good friend of John Connelly (yes, the Governor of Texas who was riding in the car with JFK when he was assassinated. I have a great story of when I met the Governor’s sister who figured out that I was the daughter of bullet holes senior and her great admiration for him, but that if for another time.) In his prime, he was hand picked to run for the head of the Texas Railroad Commission. Bullet holes senior told me about, and I have some memories of frequent breakfasts at the Governors’ mansion in Austin. We came through the kitchen door.

So, I didn’t understand until almost 6 or 7 years after they died that there was a drinking problem. I learned about this from my mother’s best friend before she died. It was further verified by Dave Mow’s Grass’s mother, my sister in law. My mother was the primary alcoholic. Her friend Jean, wife of the infamous Bruce we all have come to love and laugh at had no idea that I didn’t know when I finally asked her about it. After I came to understand alcoholism I could recall incidents that spoke to our father’s romance with it as well.

Bullet holes drew the black card, the addict. I spent a lot of years being angry with him about it. A couple of years ago, I realized that I owed him. It could have been me. Oh, God. It could have been me.

It seemed that the endless string of losses sent my brother further into his addictions and me into mine. The fiend of a drug that would eventually suck my brother under and almost take him away forever.


bulletholes said...

Sister, 90% of the folks out there blogging are probably ADHD. Don't try to tell your story all at once....we can't keep up!
Your comment really touched me, baby; I was glad to take the hit for you. I wish I could sday my intentions were noble. You should cut and paste your comment to your blog. And keep writing, it doesn't have to be big, or even to make any sense. It helped me find my feet again.
And you'll find some friends too, friends based on things they post that resonate with you, and vice-versa. Its not a popularity contest, or based on what you used to be, but just on what your point of view might be toaday.
Its pretty cool!

West Texas Insomniac said...


I grew up with one of those, three years my junior. We didn't grow up "rich" by any measure, but we didn't want for much either. Though there weren't any drug/alcohol issues, my folks divorced the year she graduated high school. She still blames this event for her ultimate downfall...

She immediately got married, (the first of many), and had a baby girl. At this point she was an alcoholic, a drug addict and her life was out of control. I tried several times to reel her back in, but my help was not wanted. As a family we tried to get her help. Long story-short, she was given tough ulitimatum...and she chose drugs/alcohol over her family and even her child. Even then we gave it one last try and had her committed. She was out in 72 hours...She relinquished custody of her daughter to her ex-in-laws when the girl was 6 or 7 years old. She gave her child away. Here's what she doesn't know...

Her daughter graduated from Liberty University a couple of years ago. She now attends George Washington University Law School and works for a Senator. My sister? In-n-out of hospitals, jails, institutions and rehabs for the last 20-plus years. Three-time loser @ DUI but avoided prison...Her organs are failing. I'm certain I'll get a phone call any day that she's gone. She's 43.

I'm no angel. We all have our own crosses to bear. BH, I hope your sister does continue to write. I'd be very interested in how it looked through her eyes. Sorry I went on so long. I thought it was timely. Take care. tb

Barbara said...

This is very touching and sad all at the same time. My mother grew up in an alcoholic family. Her brother was the addict. She didn't touch a drop for fear it would get her too.

I hope you both keep writing. Just being able to put words around what has happened in your lives is so important.

Angela said...

Hi there, Bullethole`s sister. Glad to meet you. Sorry I`m a bit late, but your story touched me. I`m also glad your brother`s name is Lazarus now!

Bobby Jean said...

Dear Bullet Holes & Bullet Holes Sister,

Having just celebrated (quietly) my 11th year of sobriety, your story touched me on many levels. In truth, our stories are very similar.

In recovery, I began to wonder just how many folks in my family had been in my shoes. As a genealogist, I was familiar with charting family trees so I color coded mine for alcohol, other addictions and raging temper. From the 16th century through the 21st, my family tree took on a rather ..ah...festive appearance.

Reviewing ancestral occupations like scientists, lawyers, civil engineers, mathematicians and even patriots involved in the birth of this country, I realized addiction had no respect for intellect, gender or family.

I'm mentioning this because you are still struggling with the fallout of generational addiction. You cannot fight what you do not understand.

So, gather a few lined tablets and pencils. Write down your life story, name names, name hurts, name losses, name victories and joys. If you do it right, you'll fill several tablets over several days. Then, go to your local park or campground and find a barbeque pit.

Take water .. it's been my experience that first responders get rather excited about off-season bonfires. Throw a few pages at a time into the fire, setting the memories free. You will feel the burdens lift. If you are so inclined, dance around the fire. Again, make sure local first responders are not witnesses to the event. Sigh.

When it's over, your life will no longer be colored by past events. You're free.

e said...

What an amazing and loving thing for your sister to admit to and write about, Bulletholes. You are one lucky guy. Congrats on the one year, too. I hope you and sister have many more to share.

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