Siblings of damaged children

[Guest guest]

'The Normal One': The Siblings of 'Damaged' Children

September 15, 2002

By REEVE LINDBERGH

In ''The Normal One,'' Jeanne Safer has given us a

disturbing and persuasive examination of the considerable

effect that ''damaged'' -- handicapped, troubled or

otherwise impaired -- brothers and sisters have upon their

''normal'' siblings throughout life. According to Safer,

this is an area of study all but ignored in her own

profession, with its intense focus upon parent-child

relationships. ''Psychoanalysis, the talking cure, is

strangely silent about siblings,'' and yet ''having

siblings is one of the defining experiences of childhood,

with lifelong reverberations.''

In a chapter acutely titled ''Everybody's an Only Child,''

Safer, a psychotherapist for close to 30 years, attributes

this long neglect in part to Freud himself, a favored

eldest son in a family whose only other boy, a mere nine

months younger, died when Sigmund was a year and a half old

-- an experience she characterizes as a ''guilty triumph''

and that he himself said left him with ''the germ of

self-reproach.'' Though Safer sees some evidence of change

in the profession today, the ''vicious cycle'' of neglect

in psychoanalytic theory dictating neglect in

psychoanalytic practice ''keeps every new generation of

clinicians blind and deaf to what was originally

excluded.''

Her analysis of the ''Caliban syndrome,'' as she calls the

psychological condition affecting normal siblings in

families with damaged children, is supported with some 60

interviews with siblings of impaired family members. The

syndrome, named for the Miranda-Caliban relationship in

''The Tempest,'' has four distinct elements: ''premature

maturity,'' ''survivor guilt,'' ''compulsion to achieve''

and ''fear of contagion.'' Normal siblings are

characterized this way:

''Cheerful caretakers, mature before their time, they are

supposed to consider themselves lucky to be normal. They

feel tormented by the compulsion to compensate for their

parents' disappointments by having no problems and making

no demands, and they are often unaware of the massive

external and internal pressure to pretend that nothing is

amiss.''

In case after case, the trials of normal siblings are

documented: the young woman who could not persuade her

parents to protect her from an autistic brother attempting

to strangle her; the sister whose bed was made up with a

damaged sibling's urine-soaked sheets so that ''the maid

wouldn't think badly'' of the 14-year-old bed-wetter; the

man whose retarded brother kept the family awake playing

loud music all night long. Daily sacrifices and disastrous

family gatherings are standard fare, as are stories of

parents routinely missing school graduations and

performances in order to stay home with an impaired child.

''Home life is a series of little murders of privacy,

pleasure, peace of mind,'' Safer writes. ''Beloved

possessions get ruined without repercussions -- the

carefully constructed train display wrecked, the prom dress

bought with a hard-earned paycheck hung back in the closet

besmirched with pizza. Either because they could not

understand or are exempted by parents, the culprits are

rarely punished.''

Safer makes a strong plea for recognizing honestly and

working skillfully with the profoundly difficult

circumstances affecting siblings in families with damaged

children. She is wary of the tendency in our culture to

sugarcoat the experience of living with a handicapped

family member as ''a blessing,'' no matter how severe the

impairment or how traumatic the impact upon the family.

Though she does not deny the genuine devotion felt, and

practiced, by many of these families, Safer worries about

the damage that can be done by false scenarios parents

invent, consciously or unconsciously, to cope with the

presence of difficult children. ''Contrary to

appearances,'' she argues, ''parents' emotional needs, not

their children's, determine whether a Caliban (or a

she-Caliban) is designated as central or peripheral in a

family.''

Another, subtler issue emerges in this book, one that

clearly merits further attention. In an unnerving but

compelling first chapter, Safer reveals that she had, and

still has, a brother most people in her life have never

heard about, whom none of her friends have met. Her

brother, , ''was the classic problem child: obese,

truculent, picked on by his peers and troublesome to his

teachers.'' , she states baldly, was an embarrassment

to the family, an impediment and a burden. She, on the

other hand, was her parents' darling and delight.

As the reader becomes increasingly uneasy, wondering what,

if anything, was ''wrong'' with , and who, if anyone,

was ''normal'' in the Safer family, the story gets worse.

We learn that only a handful of childhood photographs was

ever taken of Safer's ''difficult'' brother, that he fought

constantly with his parents and got terrible grades in

school, for no apparent reason in either case. At the age

of 11, and for five years thereafter, was sent off

to sleep in the attic, separated from his sister and his

parents in their ground-floor apartment by another

apartment on the second floor. All of this, amazingly,

occurred in the absence of diagnosis. In fact, there was no

hard evidence, Safer says, that was ever truly

''impaired'' at all.

Ultimately, years too late to establish a real bond with

him, Safer came to know her estranged, now adult, brother

differently. She saw him as a talented musician, a man with

friends and work of his own, someone she is sorry not to

know better. She realizes that in spite of the trouble in

his childhood, ''gets along fine with people outside

his immediate family; how can the problem have been all

his?'' How indeed?

Because of her own experience, Safer seriously, if

incompletely, addresses the impact that parental and

sibling behavior can have in establishing the Caliban

syndrome in families where impairment plays a far less

central role. A fuller exploration of this phenomenon, one

hopes, will come in time. Meanwhile, ''The Normal One''

provides a great service for the siblings of truly damaged

individuals, those quiet, self-denying brothers and sisters

who, perhaps for the first time in their lives, will

recognize in Safer a passionate advocate from the world of

psychotherapy, speaking out on their behalf with a deeply

intelligent, fully informed and thoroughly welcome voice.

Reeve Lindbergh's latest books are ''No More Words: A

Journal of My Mother, Anne Morrow Lindbergh'' and ''On

Morning Wings,'' an adaptation of the 139th Psalm for

children.

http://www.nytimes.com/2002/09/15/books/review/15LINDBET.html?

ex=1085541275 & ei=1 & en=7380dacdcfb65401

[Guest guest]

I would suggest that behaviors such as described below are not the

result of living with a disabled sibling, but the result of living

with screwed-up parents. This book sounds like the finger-pointing

needs to be turned from the disabled sibling to the parents. Funny

at Allie's school for disabled children virtually every employee has

a sibling with a disability. If they were so tortured by their

siblings, why did they choose to make their life's career helping

those in the very same situation?

I hate to tell the little princess of her family that things

described such as toys being distroyed goes on in typical families

just as much, if not moreso. It's called life. How many times have

we been whacked by a big brother or watched a big sister paint

flowers on little brother's prized toy? She really needs to get over

her self-pity and get on with life.

Debi

> In case after case, the trials of normal siblings are

> documented: the young woman who could not persuade her

> parents to protect her from an autistic brother attempting

> to strangle her; the sister whose bed was made up with a

> damaged sibling's urine-soaked sheets so that ''the maid

> wouldn't think badly'' of the 14-year-old bed-wetter; the

> man whose retarded brother kept the family awake playing

> loud music all night long. Daily sacrifices and disastrous

> family gatherings are standard fare, as are stories of

> parents routinely missing school graduations and

> performances in order to stay home with an impaired child.

>

> ''Home life is a series of little murders of privacy,

> pleasure, peace of mind,'' Safer writes. ''Beloved

> possessions get ruined without repercussions -- the

> carefully constructed train display wrecked, the prom dress

> bought with a hard-earned paycheck hung back in the closet

> besmirched with pizza. Either because they could not

> understand or are exempted by parents, the culprits are

> rarely punished.''

[Guest guest]

Most of the parenst I know who have a disabled child and other

children, The " other " children are the most compassionate loving

kids I know! My sons adore each other, The only thing my son ever

complained about...(Hes alomost 20 yrs old) He said I was over

protective of him.....And this is not true, He raced dirtbikes!! I

agree its the parents, Not the disabled child, and thier kids would

have had problems with or without a disabled sibling. Im going to

type in a story from the readers digest, a friend gave it to me

years ago when my boys were young, Some of you might have read

it..Its about two brothers, and the " healthy " son wrote it..

My Silent Keeper

My brother, Harter, was born in Hollywood on Dec 9,

1956, a month before his due date. Doctors told my parents only that

because he was premature, it would take some time for Mike to catch

up.

However, six months after Mike's birth, a nurse noticed his slow

mental`and physical development. It was more than a minor

disability, she told my parents. He was retarded, and he also had

cerebral palsy.

Overwhelmed, my mom and dad went to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester,

Minn., in the spring of 1957, looking for the kind of medical

miracle they believed the clinic's doctors performed. But they could

do nothing for Mike, nor could they ever fully explain why he never

lost his baby teeth, never grew taller than about 30 inches and

never weighed more than 28 lbs. They did estimate, however, that he

would not live to see his 12th birthday.

In May 1958 I was born in Austin, Minn., a blue-collar town framed

by cornfields, I was healthy and grew up to be big and fast.

As a boy I learned to feed and clothe Mike. As a teenager, I babysat

for my " big brother " and learned the proper dosage of medicine to

prevent the seizures that caused him to stiffen and tremble.

In my favorite photo we are on the steps of our new home, wearing

red baseball hats and toothy smiles. I am standing next to Mike, and

between us are Midge, a pomeraian, and Happy Hank, a basset hound.

Animals understood Mike. If other kids pulled or dogs tails or ears,

they would move out of range or snap, but never with Mike. And if

the dogs thought he was in danger, they always came to his defense.

Mike found special things he loved to hold and play with: a yellow

rose, a small flag, a pinwheel, wind chimes.

The ideal for Mike was to sit near the window with a bowl of M & M's,

sunshine streaming across his face.

Many people said he would never walk or talk, and should be

institutionalized. He never did learn to walk, but he did learn to

talk-not flawlessly or even in complete sentences, but he had the

basics down. If he was hungry, thirsty, happy or sad, we knew. Cake.

Cookies. Candy bar. water-water cry.

He knew names too. I was Kagun, not . But that changed with a

beard I grew during the summer before college. Family members said

it was ugly. The name stuck.

" Look who's home. Who's that? " they'd say to Mike. " Ugly, " he

would respond, and squeal with delight.

All of which-to-me-was normal, for he was the only brother I knew.

The only time I thought of the diffrences between us was when others

pointed them out. A stare in a restaurant, a pointed finger on the

street, a comment by another kid in the schoolyard, or the rubber-

necking gawks of strangers at the county fair.

His effect on some people was special, however. Big, tough men

crumbled when he smiled, giggled and winked at them. One in

particular, a bear of a man who had been on the wrong side of the

law more than once, always asked after him. He'd often give mom a

few dollars and tell her, " get something for the little guy, will

you? "

For anyone who took the time, Mike softened them like butter in

the afternoon sun.

My circle of friends widened when I entered high school. One day

mom asked if my new friends would have a problem seeing Mike for the

first time. " If they dont accept Mike, they dont accept me and they

aren't welcome, " I said.

And if I didnt think of him as diffrent, I never thought about him

dying either. That changed on a warm fall night in 1975. I had made

my first varsity football start. We won, 7-6, and after the game I

celebrated with my friends at the local hangout. The phone rang and

I was paged. " No need to worry, everything is okay, dont rush home, "

said my mom, " but Mike had a seizure and is in the hospital. "

With this first seizure, Mike's life was begining to fade. His

immune system was defenseless. His seizures intensified and became

more frequent. His bones would break with little cause. His lungs

often filled with fluid.

As his arms grew weak and his life flickered, Mike lost the

strenght to lift a rose, and the resistance to sit by an open

window. Like the flowers he loved, Mike was to fragile to stand a

frost.

As his health faded and college took me away, Mike would show his

disapproval of my absence by ignoring me and pouting when I

returned. My greatest sin was growing up and moving out. Maybe it

was then that HE realized there was a diffrence between us.

Toward the end of his life, the promise of Spring was near, but

Mike would not make it through yet another hospital stay. A bout

with pneumonia quietly squeezed life from him. Mike slipped in and

out of a coma on March 15,1983-Dad's 50th birthday.

As though he knew the importance of the date, he battled for one

more day. Harter- Just 26 years old died at sunrise

the next day in my mothers arms, Dad nearby, surrounded by those he

loved.

I put a few things in Mike's casket to be buried with him.My

favorite picture of us with our dogs, a bag of M & M's, a stuffed

animal and a radio.

We never Had those great, soul-searching talks that other brothers

have about women, religion, work, parents and Vietnam. We never

played catch, talked about our dreams or double dated for homecoming

or prom. I would get older, maybe one day marry and have kids, but

Mike would be an everlasting innocent.

It has been 13 years since he died, but each year, in some way,

I find new meaning in my life as a result of Mike. He taught me

compassion and strenght. He taught me respect for those less

fortunate than myself. And he taught me an appreciation of the

beauty in the simplest things.

Children who come into the world with mental or physical handicaps

are considered by some to be abnormal. Others mat regard them as the

select children of God. Mike was one of those.

Physically and mentally, I was my brothers keeper. Spiritually,

Mike was and still is my kepper - a nearly silent, soulful guardian

angel.

> I would suggest that behaviors such as described below are not the

> result of living with a disabled sibling, but the result of living

> with screwed-up parents. This book sounds like the finger-pointing

> needs to be turned from the disabled sibling to the parents. Funny

> at Allie's school for disabled children virtually every employee

has

> a sibling with a disability. If they were so tortured by their

> siblings, why did they choose to make their life's career helping

> those in the very same situation?

>

> I hate to tell the little princess of her family that things

> described such as toys being distroyed goes on in typical families

> just as much, if not moreso. It's called life. How many times have

> we been whacked by a big brother or watched a big sister paint

> flowers on little brother's prized toy? She really needs to get

over

> her self-pity and get on with life.

>

> Debi

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Hi.. may I please share this story on another list and with friends?

Thanks

> > I would suggest that behaviors such as described below are not

the

> > result of living with a disabled sibling, but the result of

living

> > with screwed-up parents. This book sounds like the finger-

pointing

> > needs to be turned from the disabled sibling to the parents.

Funny

> > at Allie's school for disabled children virtually every employee

> has

> > a sibling with a disability. If they were so tortured by their

> > siblings, why did they choose to make their life's career

helping

> > those in the very same situation?

> >

> > I hate to tell the little princess of her family that things

> > described such as toys being distroyed goes on in typical

families

> > just as much, if not moreso. It's called life. How many times

have

> > we been whacked by a big brother or watched a big sister paint

> > flowers on little brother's prized toy? She really needs to get

> over

> > her self-pity and get on with life.

> >

> > Debi

> >

> >

> >

[Guest guest]

Hi ,

Yes, share it! Its really great for siblings to have as they get

a little older. And for parents to read about how a child feels

about having a disabled sibling. When my son read it, he cried. He

is very protective of his handicapped brother. His friends are GREAT

with his little brother.

Donna

> > > I would suggest that behaviors such as described below are not

> the

> > > result of living with a disabled sibling, but the result of

> living

> > > with screwed-up parents. This book sounds like the finger-

> pointing

> > > needs to be turned from the disabled sibling to the parents.

> Funny

> > > at Allie's school for disabled children virtually every

employee

> > has

> > > a sibling with a disability. If they were so tortured by their

> > > siblings, why did they choose to make their life's career

> helping

> > > those in the very same situation?

> > >

> > > I hate to tell the little princess of her family that things

> > > described such as toys being distroyed goes on in typical

> families

> > > just as much, if not moreso. It's called life. How many times

> have

> > > we been whacked by a big brother or watched a big sister paint

> > > flowers on little brother's prized toy? She really needs to

get

> > over

> > > her self-pity and get on with life.

> > >

> > > Debi

> > >

> > >

> > >