Pick up the pieces

On my last day of vacation, I was able to sit down and watch Oprah. I haven’t been able to do that in many months. And I am so glad I caught today’s rerun episode featuring an interview with author James Frey. I am smack dab in the middle of his drug rehab memoir A Million Little Pieces. As I listened to him talk to Oprah about his excruciating experience, I found myself crying a little nearly sobbing. From the first page of the book, I couldn’t help but think that I could be reading all about my own brother, also named James. While my brother has not gone through rehab, he has been in similar situations with drugs and alcohol and getting into trouble, and from a very early age, just like Frey. He’s also angry and raging on the inside (and outwardly, as well), so much that it often affects the ones who love him. I alluded to some of this awhile back, that he’s gotten himself into trouble again, and as I’m reading the book, there are just too many parts ringing true. I actually bought the book back in September after it was announced as Oprah’s next book club selection. My mom came to visit in October and started reading it when she was here. She also noted the similarity between the author and my brother. Right away, she was sucked into the story. She couldn’t put it down, so she stole it from me before I had a chance to read it. I got it back when she visited for the holidays last week. Now that I’ve read more than half of the book, I’m wondering how my mom was able to get through certain sections without bawling. Maybe she did cry, like I did during the part when Frey must endure two root canals and other dental work without novocain, anesthesia or painkillers. Like Frey’s parents, my mom wants so badly for my brother to grow up. To wake up and stop being so angry. To realize that his life isn’t so bad after all. That at age 24, the alternative to straightening up would be spending significant time in jail, or worse, finding himself dead. There were times not so long ago that this was a real worry for my parents. I, too, have laid awake at night thinking about this very notion. I worry about my brother, because like Frey, he’s not a stupid person. He’s better than the lowlifes and losers he surrounds himself with. He’s witty and intelligent and charming, and yet somehow he finds himself in the worst situations involving drugs and alcohol and getting into trouble. He told me over the phone a couple weeks ago, “I am not criminal.” It nearly broke my heart, because I know he has the wherewithal to change his life. And yet, there is nothing I can do. I’m not sure that my brother is an addict who needs rehab. But I know that he’s seen friends get hurt and go to jail and even die from drinking and drugs. He himself has dealt with the repercussions of his fast-living lifestyle many times over. Something I’ve learned from the book. though, is that it’s going to take him making his own realizations about his life in order for him to change. And I don’t think it’s too late for him to wise up. One of the refreshing parts about the James Frey interview was when he talked about his now everyday, ordinary life 13 years after getting sober. He is married with a young daughter, living in New York and enjoying a successful writing career. I see that for my brother, I truly do. I so want to send A Million Little Pieces to him on the off-chance he’ll read a few pages and realize that he’s not alone in his fury and rage. That there are people who love him and want nothing more for him than to succeed in life. My brother is not yet broken into a million little pieces, beyond repair. This much I know is true. I’m thinking about you, Jimmy.