The long-festering wound ... ahhhh ... let's see if I can explain this clearly, yet succinctly ...
My brother and I were really close growing up ... there's 4.5 years between us (I'm older) and we got along great. That's not to say that there weren't the usual sibling issues (we used to beat on each other like nobody's business -- I've sent him to the emergency room for stitches, and we both have countless other physical scars from roughhousing), but on the whole we were always there for each other.
Then, when I was 14 and he was 10, I entered the 9th grade -- at a 5-day boarding school 75 miles away from home (on campus from Sunday night through Friday, home on weekends). And, at the same time, our dad hit rock-bottom with his alcoholism and entered recovery.
The combination of my being a usual teenager causing my parents grief and our dad going through a really hard time put a lot of pressure on the family. Dad wasn't there for anyone but himself. I was self-absorbed and miles away, yet still causing repercussions at home. Mom was busy going through her version of recovery ... and there was my brother, left to fend for himself (which, whether actually true or not, is how he saw it)...
After high school, I got a scholarship to be an exchange student in Germany ... by this point, the 'heavy lifting' of our dad's recovery was behind us and things were on the upswing in general (my brother was entering high school, and I would've been out of the house regardless) ... while in Germany, I have to admit I wasn't very good at managing money. I was partying pretty hard and (unbeknownst to me) was causing my parents more grief back home who kept bankrolling the party ...
When I got back from Germany, I proceeded to start college only to find out it wasn't for me (I had much more success just jumping into the working world) ... the one year of college study caused more friction between me and my parents.
What does this all have to do with the relationship between me and my brother? In addition to feeling like I had abandoned him, he also felt resentment because he was the one who had to deal with the negative emotions in the house whenever I would screw up. I would get it while on the phone with my parents, but the minute I'd hang up, I would be back in "my world" ... and he would have to watch our mom crying about how I was a f*ckup and our dad be all sullen and depressed because he was adjusting to an alcohol-free (and thus for him, hobby-free) life ...
After I dropped out of college, I really got my act together. Basically all I needed was true independence. That was 6 years ago ... I leapt up the ladder at a multinational company, working like a dog (and loving every minute of it), getting job security and living the life I always wanted - including getting back over to Europe (and NL, no less!) ...
Anyhow, my brother had never gotten over his resentment of feeling like he got the shaft because of my choices. And the fact that I had succeeded essentially by ditching my family and making 'selfish' choices bothered him even more. Sort of a prodigal son syndrome. Because he didn't want to cause my parents the same grief I had caused them, he tried to be the "good son" and pushed a lot of his own wishes under the surface.
Toss in the ever-present sibling rivalry (we're both really competitive, and hate to let the other get the upper hand), and it was impossible for the two of us to spend time together for a while. We'd have a good day, but then end up having a rip-roaring argument in the evening about nothing at all.
Finally, while he was visiting, he and I ate some Mexicans (his first time) ... about halfway through the trip we just started talking. And we talked. Feelings that I didn't even knew he had came to the surface, I was able to share some of my perspective, we both had a big cry and for the first time in years really felt the brotherly love that we have for each other.
We talked for nearly 3 hours about everything that was standing between us without either one getting angry or defensive. We were able to have the rational, yet emotionally-deep, conversation we'd been needing to have for a long time. I think part of it was that the motivation for the unloading wasn't to hurt each other (as it had been in the past), but rather to put it to rest and move forward with the rest of our adult lives (he's 21 now) ...
That was 2 years ago. Since then, it feels like part of ourselves has gone back in time to when we were little kids and there was nothing in between us ... but with an adult perspective that allows us to really enjoy just being together. He's an amazing guy, a fantastic professional artist and musician ... and despite some frustrations when I don't "get" his work, we haven't had a serious fight since that magical evening.
I've shared this story with people who've never tried a psychedelic, let alone shrooms, and they just pooh-pooh the effect. They feel that the catharsis would've happened eventually, and that the fungus gave us "fake" feelings for the evening.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps we would've eventually buried the hatchet, but it would've taken way more time and who knows what would've happened between then and now (now we're still young enough to have crazy fun together) ... and the feelings were absolutely genuine, just put in a managable context. It was weird .. at times in the conversation, we were just totally wrapped up in the emotions with tears streaming down our faces, and then other times (particularly with the negative emotions) we were able to take a mental step back and just observe without reacting.
So, that is the elaborate description of the wound and the healing ... I hope it's clear!! Would be happy to answer any other questions about it ...
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