Facing the Music And Living To Talk About It (4 page)

My body and my mind couldn’t have taken it. I used to allow negativity to overwhelm me, but I can’t physically do it anymore. I have to take care of myself. I have to protect myself from situations that might send me back into that black hole of depression again.

I struggle every day with the emotional aspects of losing my sister to drugs and alcohol. It’s a daily battle for me to stay away from them myself. Leslie knew that I loved her just as I love everyone in our family. They are my blood, but loving someone doesn’t mean you have to take abuse from them. Being there for family is important in most cases, but if the situation is unhealthy and could hurt you emotionally or physically then you need to protect yourself. I’ve had to learn the hard way to recognize which situations are not good for me.

I USED TO ALLOW
NEGATIVITY
TO OVERWHELM ME, BUT I CAN’T PHYSICALLY DO IT ANYMORE.

I thought Leslie and I were making some progress on our relationship before she died. I loved her and I know she loved me, despite our differences. It is a horrible feeling to lose a loved one in any situation, and even worse to lose an important person in your life with hard feelings still lingering. I’ve made peace with my memories of Leslie now, but it took a long time.

I would encourage you to never be put in the same position. Don’t let disagreements or feuds keep you apart from those you love. Forgive them and ask their forgiveness because you never know when they might be gone forever.

RISE ABOVE

Leslie never learned that we can rise above our circumstances. We can change our lives by changing our attitudes and the ways in which we respond to things that happen to us. I can’t tell you for certain what was going on in her mind when she took the pills that they say killed her. But I know that Leslie never fully grasped something that changed my life—and could possibly change yours too.

When I was a boy living in a dysfunctional family, I couldn’t control my circumstances. The fighting and drinking were inescapable. As I grew older, I did finally get away; I escaped physically by leaving the house and emotionally by abusing drugs and alcohol. I was punishing myself for something I had no control over. Eventually, I found a better way—a way I will describe for you in this book.

YOU SHOULD NEVER LIVE WITH
A VICTIM’S MENTALITY

Understand for now that when you find yourself in a bad situation, you should know that what happens to you does not define you. By that I mean you can rise above a bad environment, a hurtful relationship, or anything else beyond your control that happens to you. What matters is how you respond. You have full ownership over your choices. You can make a decision, as I did eventually, to take charge and move on in a positive direction. You may not see a way out now, but there is a way. Do not give up. Do not punish yourself like I did for too long, or sadly, like Leslie did.

You should never live with a victim’s mentality. You may have been abused, but that does not mean you deserved it. No one deserves abuse. You should never allow others to hurt you physically or mentally. You can walk away. There are safe places for you to go, better places where you can command your daily life and never again be a victim. It is torture and torment to live that way.

I wish Leslie and I could have healed our relationship. I wish she’d accepted my offer to join me as I worked to become healthier. I wished the timing had been better and that I had committed many of my healing experiences to paper sooner. On so many levels, I can’t help but think that this book could have made a difference in her life. Although she is gone now, I do take some consolation in knowing that Leslie’s death was not without meaning. The loss of my sister inspired me to write this book. It may not have been available to help her, but it is my sincerest hope that it will help other people. Please, let’s do this together, to honor the memory of the sister I loved and lost, and to help you claim the best life possible—the life you deserve.

PERSONAL NOTES

CHAPTER TWO

PAST MATTERS

M
Y FIRST CHILDHOOD
home was an apartment above The Yankee Rebel bar in Jamestown, N.Y. Owned by my parents and grandmother, it was the area’s most popular bar and disco, and sometimes they had strippers too. My dad was the deejay, bartender, and host. We lived upstairs, so our place was party central after the bar closed. My parents and their friends were big drinkers. I’m not judging them. That’s just the way they were when we were growing up.

Going to college and getting an education weren’t priorities in my rowdy family. Things like building character and taking care of your mind, body and spirit were rarely discussed around the dinner table. It seemed like there was always a party going on, or a fight.

Family legend has it that when I was two years old I crawled into one of The Yankee Rebel’s liquor storage rooms where I was caught drinking for the first time. My parents always laughed at that. I laughed too, for a while, and then I didn’t laugh at it any more.

I know now that it’s possible to drink responsibly. If you can do that, more power to you. But I didn’t see much of that kind of measured behavior growing up. I didn’t practice it much either. These days I try to think of alcohol as a drug—one of the biggest and most abused in my opinion. Certainly, that was the case in my family.

We moved to the Tampa, Florida area in 1986 when I was six years old and my sister BJ (Bobby Jean) was two years old. My parents bought the Garden Villa Nursing Home, where they did everything from caring for patients to making the beds, tending the landscape, and cooking the meals. We lived in a little place on the grounds. Leslie was born in the nursing home that first year in Florida, and the twins, Aaron and Angel, arrived about a year and a half later.

By then, we had moved to a house across the street. There was a lot of pressure on me to take care of my younger brother and sisters because my parents worked such long hours. I remember freaking out a little when Aaron and Angel were born. I went into their room the day they came home from the hospital and felt a sudden surge of panic when I saw their little cribs next to each other. My first thought was, “Now I’ll have to be in charge of them too!”

I was scared of being left alone with them while my parents were out. I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to do, especially if there was a problem. When I described that scene to one of my therapists, he stopped me and said, “You know it was illegal for your parents to leave you at home alone when you were that age, don’t you?”

I didn’t know that back then, and even if I did, what good would it have done? I just thought it was normal for me to babysit the younger kids while my parents worked. I didn’t know any better. My big objective back then was to keep my parents happy so they wouldn’t yell at us, spank us, or get into a fight over us. When my dad came home from work each day, I worried about whether he would be upset or happy. Usually, on the days he was happy, he’d been drinking.

Sad to say, some of the best times in our childhood were when my parents drank and partied because at least then they weren’t fighting. Of course, sooner or later an argument would start and things would turn ugly.

STRESSED OUT CHILDHOOD

As the oldest, I felt responsible for maintaining everyone’s happiness. I guess that’s why I’m an entertainer now. Back then, it was all about keeping the peace and not getting into trouble. Really, when I think about those days, we had the most fun when Mom and Dad were at work and it was just us kids at home. My sister Bobbie and I were in charge and we’d come up with all of these great games to play. The bonds forged in those days were strong, and I’m sure they are what still gives us hope that one day we’ll all be able to get along better than we do now.

When our parents were gone, we were free to pretend that things were normal. Those times formed the basis of our love for each other. I got to be the big brother to Aaron back then. We spent hours jumping on the trampoline in the backyard, having a blast. I think he looked up to me at the time because I was there for him and we were best friends.

Those times will always remain special in my mind, but I also remember being afraid my parents would come home and find something to upset them. I scrubbed the linoleum floors on my hands and knees until they were shiny because I thought it would make them happy. We all wanted to please them, to win their love and approval, which is normal for kids. I just don’t think most kids had to work so hard for it.

…I FELT
RESPONSIBLE
FOR MAINTAINING EVERYONE’S
HAPPINESS.

At night, we’d go to our rooms to get away from the arguing. We could hear things breaking all the time—furniture, glasses, and anything else they could throw. My dad owned a gun and he’d shoot it out the window sometimes when he got really mad. Fear was an everyday part of our household. My dad ruled by intimidation. We never saw physical violence between my parents, but Dad would spank me with a belt in front of the littler kids. I was always the example. He’d pull down my pants and hit me. Dad clearly took out his stress on me. Discipline isn’t all bad—kids need rules and boundaries and consequences, but the extent of the discipline Dad doled out on me was wrong.

My parents didn’t have college educations. They were blue-collar people and they had to work hard to provide for us. They always stressed about money, which is another reason they turned to alcohol so much. I’m shocked to see home movies taken when I was nine and ten; in them, I’m pretending to be drinking. Clearly I’m mimicking my parents.

In one home movie my cousin and I are acting as if we were going out to a bar like two adults. We danced and feigned we were partying. Looking back at how alcohol was part of our playtime, I realize just how deeply my parents’ drinking affected me. It was as if I was programmed to drink. Their volatile relationship also negatively affected my perception of how adults should act and what relationships should be like between men and women.

HOUSE DIVIDED

Sadly, our parents didn’t hide their battles from us. Mom and Dad often brought their fights into my bedroom or BJ’s because we were the two eldest. They would say, “We’re getting a divorce, which one of us do you want to live with?” This happened many times over the years. BJ and I would tell them that we’d go with either one just to get it over.

The threat of divorce was always present in our home. We lived with it constantly. My oldest sister and I had to adapt to our parents holding a breakup over us until it got to a point where we actually hoped it would happen. Privately, we’d think:
Just get divorced already.

My therapist says it’s no wonder I have commitment issues. I was 23 years old by the time my mom finally filed for a divorce. My dad came to me and asked what he should do. I said, “You need to break up with her.” It shouldn’t have been my responsibility to tell him that. They both asked the younger kids the same thing and it affected them badly. A parent is supposed to lead by example, and teach and guide their children. They shouldn’t have put that sort of responsibility on their kids.

SADLY, OUR PARENTS
DIDN’T HIDE
THEIR
BATTLES FROM US.

We all felt that my parents were bad for each other. Their drinking and fighting never subsided, even when money was much less of an issue. During the divorce battle, they fought over who would have custody of Aaron. My little brother made his first record at the age of ten, and by the time the divorce proceedings had begun, he’d already earned millions from albums and concert tours. Aaron was only 15 years old when he filed a petition for legal emancipation because of the way our mother was managing his earnings.

During their fallout, he made public comments about our mother stealing $100,000 from him. Then shortly after that, he withdrew the petition. I don’t know exactly what happened in Aaron’s case, but I eventually hired professionals to manage my career so I would never find myself in the same position.

The turmoil and drama just never seemed to end with my family. Havoc ruled most of the time, and we all paid a price for it. Because most of us couldn’t handle it very well, it ultimately drove us apart.

You could make a strong case that I had fewer reasons for turning to drugs and drinking than anyone else in my family. My career with the Backstreet Boys and the financial rewards that came with it should have given me enough fulfillment and motivation to stay straight. I should have focused more on my work and all of the opportunities that came my way because of it. But instead of going with the good, I couldn’t seem to shake the bad.

STOPPING THE NEGATIVE CYCLE

I’m fortunate to be living the dream as far as my career is concerned, but for the longest time I was unhappy because I didn’t take the time to examine my feelings, really think about what I hoped to accomplish, or prepare myself for the kind of life I wanted. That’s what therapists and psychiatrists mean when they talk about beginning
from the inside out
.

Until you do that, you’re bound to just keep repeating the same self-defeating patterns that have made you feel unhappy and stuck in the first place.

So many people repeat self-sabotaging and harmful behavioral patterns like alcoholism, drug use, or physical and sexual abuse without knowing why, until they come to terms with their past and see just how their own patterns mirror those of their parents. In my own search for answers, I’ve learned that my father came from a household similar to the one he created for us. I loved my Grandpa Carter, who was actually my dad’s stepfather. (Dad never knew his real father. I’ve tried to find out who he was, but so far I haven’t succeeded.)

Grandpa Carter mellowed as he got older, but he was abusing alcohol throughout my dad’s childhood. He fought with my grandmother because of his drinking and, as a result, Dad saw lots of drunken violence as a boy. My dad was also disciplined in the old fashioned way, which may explain why he took the belt to me.

Like my father, I repeated many of the same patterns. Drinking, drugs and anger led to embarrassing incidents and even to arrests for fighting and drunk driving that I’ll write about later. Things really got out of control when I began doing cocaine so I could stay awake and keep partying longer. I became that guy staggering around the club at the end of the night as the lights switched on and the deejay played the last song. (For some reason it always seemed to be “Don’t Stop Believing,” which is ironic, because Journey was our family’s favorite band.)

OUR HOUSE
WAS WILD.

Too often on those crazy nights, people would recognize me, and I’d be ashamed to be seen so gacked up. I was a serious mess there for a while—drunk, stoned, high on coke, overweight and mindless. Eventually, I realized that heavy drinking and drug use was endangering my career and causing serious health problems, but before then, it seemed as if I was hell-bent on destruction.

I began drinking heavily in my teens and then moved to drugs at eighteen or nineteen, starting with marijuana and moving up to cocaine, Ecstasy, and prescription painkillers among other substances. Its defenders say that pot is not a gateway drug, but for me and for many of those I know, marijuana definitely led to other drugs. Mine is not an unusual story; in fact, it’s all too common.

The real gateway to alcohol and drug abuse, though, was my childhood and the environment my parents created for my brother, sisters and me. I’m not saying I’m a victim of bad parenting or that it’s an excuse for my own mistakes, but it does help explain a lot of my behavior.

My parents have their good points. My mother especially was very encouraging and supportive of my singing career. I love both of them. I just wish there had been more emphasis on education and character-building and less on drinking and partying when my siblings and I were growing up. I also wish there hadn’t been so much arguing, fighting, and yelling. There was just way too much drama and not enough nurturing in our lives.

Our house was wild. My entire family tends to think that normal communication involves screaming at each other. Conflict resolution was never in our vocabulary. We tended to fight like pit bulls, make up with floods of tears and bear hugs, and then within a short time, set back to fighting again, repeating the cycle over and over.

SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET

Everyone has skeletons in the closet, things they’ve done and regretted or things that happened to them that they are ashamed to talk about. You and I have to accept the fact that we are human and we make mistakes, and that there are times when we can’t control what happens to us. We don’t choose our families or the tragedies that occur in our lives.

Like the old country song says, “Sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug.” We get blindsided at times, and other times we sabotage ourselves. That’s part of life, part of being human. There is freedom in accepting that, just as there is freedom in forgiving those who’ve hurt you and also in forgiving yourself for making mistakes. Now that doesn’t mean we can just do whatever hurtful things we want and then make it right by forgiving ourselves. We have to take responsibility, and then try to do better.

Several years ago, I realized that all my issues and skeletons were piling up to the point where they were like huge stones in a backpack I was carrying around with me all the time. They were weighing me down so much that I could hardly make a move. You can’t believe what a relief it was to talk through those issues with someone who was supportive and encouraging and who had very practical ways for dealing with them in a positive manner.

I am not a professional therapist and it is not possible for me to sit down with you and guide you one-on-one through the process that helped me. What I can do, however, is encourage you to find someone you trust, someone with experience in counseling and therapy, or at least a very good friend or a nurturing family member to help ease your burden.

I fought the idea of going to therapy for a long time. It seemed like something for messed up people, or for someone with more money than sense. Like many folks, I was not willing to admit that I couldn’t handle my own problems. I had the attitude that
I’m good. No help needed here. I’ve got it under control.