Becoming Duchess Goldblatt

by Duchess Goldblatt

And some of my favorite people have been alcoholics, but the disease turns a lot of people into liars. If you’re an addict, and you tell the truth about what’s happening to you, people will try to get you to stop, and the disease won’t allow you to stop. So the afflicted person will often become a chronic liar, and the people around him will become liars, to cover up for him and to keep him comfortable or keep him calm or employed, or keep themselves safe from

if you were raised in an alcoholic home like I was, you might understand that we tend to put an inappropriate premium on longevity in relationships. Someone could be a terrible friend to you, they could do real and lasting damage to you, but if you’ve considered them a friend for a long time, that could be enough. You’re not going to let them go.

“It’s my job, as your mother, to make sure you grow up into a good man who has a loving place in his heart for all living creatures,” I used to tell him when he was small. “It doesn’t make me feel good to hear you have hatred in your heart for anybody.” He’d pour out his reasons, his explanations, his ideas. “I understand exactly what you’re saying,” I’d say. “I understand you have strong feelings, and I can see why. You’re entitled to have your feelings. Your heart belongs to you. Nobody else gets to decide who lives inside your heart. You choose who you want to love.” It’s amazing how simple truths resonate with

“If I’m doing my job as your mom, then your heart will grow so big that you’ll be able to find at least a tiny bit of space in it for every person in the world,” I’d say. “You don’t have to love everybody. But if you can start to feel your heart turning hard against someone, I hope you will try to find three good things you can say about that person.”

I understood intuitively as a small child that my voice was a gift—not a gift in the sense of a talent, but a gift because it was divinely given, just like anybody else’s: the voice is the mingling of the soul, the mind, and the body together, expressed through breath, which is life itself; how could any human voice not be sacred? I saw clearly that no one could demand a share of it. It was absolutely mine.

I kept my eyes down, but I heard every word she said, and I knew she was dead wrong. I knew in my bones, had always known, that my brother would eventually commit suicide, I knew he was a child of God just as much as anybody else, and I knew that when he died he would be welcomed into heaven. If she’d ever seen despair up close, she would know what I knew, that God understands the nature of a broken heart. The saddest people will always be allowed to go home first.

I’m also aware of a quote often attributed to Freud: “All family life is organized around the most damaged person in it.” I wasn’t even standing near the front of that line. In my family, in my home, in the time and the circumstances in which I was raised, anyone who could do nine years without speaking outside the family was a champ and a blessing and a bullet dodged, not a problem to be solved. I’ve drawn a line down the page here, in invisible ink, between the part of the story that’s mine to tell and that which belongs to other people, both the living and the dead. I put my ear to the ground over here and over there. I have to if I want to see how the pieces of the world fit together.

It’s best if you decide to be true to the relationship rather than being true to the person. Because when the person lets you down (and he/she will!), you’ll say to yourself, “All bets are off!” And you’ll feel free to break a trust or breach privacy or be disloyal in big or small ways. It’s a justification. If you commit to the relationship, you’re being faithful to that. Same with friendship. That’s what I endeavor to do.—PJ