Building Blocks

By Judith Akullian

THE BOOK IS A STUDY IN THE FAMILY LIFE OF EIGHT FAMIILIES LIVING IN A SMALL APARTMENT HOUSE IN A MAJOR AMERICAN CITY. THE STORIES PROVIDE A GLIMPSE INTO HOW EARLY TRAUMAS AND CONFLICTS EFFECT OUR LIVES, INFORM OUR LIFE DECISIONS AND HOW WE LEARN TO SURVIVE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491817735

Judith Akullian

I AM A CERTIFIED PSYCHOANALYST AND HAVE BEEN IN PRIVATE PRACTICE IN NEW YORK CITY AND NORTHERN NEW JERSEY FOR OVER 35 YEARS. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN INTRIGUED WITH HOW WE AS HUMANS STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE AGAINST ALL ODDS, AND HOW WE PROTECT OURSELVES FROM PSYCHOLOGICAL DESTRUCTION. I AM MARRIED AND LIVE WITH MY HUSBAND AND SON IN NEW YORK CITY.

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© 2014 by Judith Akullian Ph.D. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   05/23/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1771-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1772-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1773-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013917284

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

JOAN

THOMAS

LOUISE

KAREN

NICHOLAS

STEFAN

TERESA

CINDY

HAPPY AND UNHAPPY FAMILIES I

If all happy families are alike,

then so are the unhappy families

whose lives we celebrate

because they are motion and heat,

because they are what we think of as life.

Someone is lying and someone else

is being lied to. Someone is beaten

and someone else is doing the beating.

Someone is praying, or weeps

because she does not know how to pray.

Someone drinks all night;

someone cowers in the corners;

someone threatens and someone pleads.

Bitter words at the table,

bitter sobs in the bedroom;

reprisal breathed on the bathroom mirror.

The house crackles with secrets;

everyone draws up a plan of escape.

Somebody shatters without a sound.

Sometimes one of them leaves the house

on a stretcher, in terrrible silence.

How much energy suffering takes!

It is like a fire that burns and burns

but cannot burn down to extincion.

Unhappy families are never idle;

they are where the action is,

unlike the others, the happy ones,

who never raise their voices

and spit no blood, who do nothing

to deserve their happiness.

By Lisel Mueller

INTRODUCTION

IT WAS A FOUR STORY building like most others in the neighborhood, small and nondescript. Built during the post-war era when housing was in high demand, it was located in the center of the block, it’s red brick facade blending into the buildings on either side. Like many others in the neighborhood, there was nothing unusual about the building. The entrance-way fanned out to a tiled interior lobby. The colors of the lobby were muted; no brilliant hues met one upon entering its portal. It had a central staircase that led to the upper floors with apartments on either side of it. In earlier times the front door had been left unlocked, but in later years the buildings tenants became concerned about safety from would be robbers and/or predators, and a locked door policy prevailed. Visitors to the building had to be buzzed in. After ringing the correct apartment number on the intercom, and being found acceptable, guests to the building could push the door open and enter the lobby.

The maintenance of the building was under the care of the superintendent who lived in one of the building’s apartments. He would wash the tile floors and stairs, fix broken pipes, change locks when necessary and do odd plumbing, carpentry and electrical jobs. He also was the arbiter of squabbles and disagreements. In short, the super was an important and powerful figure in the life of the building. He knew everything that went on in his building. He was also the one who got paid-off when an apartment became available and someone in the building wanted to bring in a friend or relative. So, keeping on the super’s good side was in every tenant’s best interest. Each Christmas he got rewarded with gifts, usually in the form of cash from the tenants who wished to curry favor with him. The super, head of the family of tenants could be kind and understanding, or arbitrary and uninterested in the family member’s difficulties. Never knowing which side of him one would encounter, tenants would approach him with apprehension, anger or mistrust. He appeared to induce strong feelings in his charges as some people with authority often do.

Year after year the building kept it’s vigil on the block. Unchanging and consistent, the building seemed indestructible. It was as if it had stood there on that spot and would continue to do so forever. The composition of the building would at times be altered as changes occurred in the ethnic make-up of the city; at times solidly Jewish middle class, at other times Asian, Russian, Greek or Hispanic. The building had always housed the working middle class, the city’s civil servants, such as teachers, social workers, postal workers, as well as office personnel and people in managerial positions. The poorer classes were not represented in the neighborhood in which the building existed. In short, it was a stable urban residential area.

Everything about the building said solid, functional and steady. Each apartment door, on each floor, looked exactly the same as the next. Yet behind these doors great differences could be found. The lives of the building’s residents varied as did their hopes and dreams. Their lives were filled with struggles, heartaches, joys, sadness, loneliness, emptiness, the ingredients that create a life. The face that we show the world is like the façade of a building; it can be painted and made to look pretty or appear soiled and unkempt. To really know a building you must know something about how it was built, whether it can withstand the test of time and weather the storms. Is the foundation upon which the building sits sturdy and strong? Are the materials with which the building is constructed solid as well as flexible; do they bend in just the right places? So it is with people. What allows a person to survive, to maintain stability in their lives? What changes the course of a person’s life? What are the building blocks we erect to weather the climate of our experiences? Come inside, you’ve already been buzzed in. The residents are looking forward to sharing their stories with you.

JOAN

JOAN HAS LIVED IN APARTMENT 1A practically her whole life. Her parents moved there when she was three, right before her brother was born. With the expectation of a third child, Joan’s parents realized that they needed larger living quarters to house their growing family. So, forty five years ago Joan, her older sister Susan, and her parents moved into the building. The apartment, a large three bedroom, faced the street which permitted it to be flooded with sunlight during the afternoon hours; an occurrence that was very pleasing to Joan. Joan’s sister was eight years her senior, and although Susan was kind to Joan, the difference in their ages was too remarkable for them to be friends. Joan though, was very attached to her mother.

When her mother became pregnant with her brother, Joan and her mother spoke about how it would be when Joan became a big sister. To Joan a little brother or sister would be like having a doll, maybe like the one she played with during the day and slept with at night. She did not think it would change her relationship with her mother; she would be her mother’s little girl just like before. Reality though, can often shock and traumatize our senses. Joan was not prepared for the loss of her mother’s attention. She did not understand the enormous amount of energy and time her mother needed to devote to her infant’s constant demands. To state that Joan was jealous is to underemphasize the discomfort and even bewilderment Joan experienced when her brother Fred was brought home. Susan to her credit, tried to fill the empty space her mother left. She offered to play with Joan and spend time taking her to the neighborhood park. But Joan was inconsolable and Susan soon gave up. To complicate things further, Joan’s father was delighted that he now had a son, an heir to carry on his name; a very important and meaningful event in this Jewish household. Joan became aware that her brother, who occupied so much of her beloved mother’s attention, was also, it seemed, a preferred child.

Like most children, Joan learned to live with her interloper of a brother. She tried to like him in order to please her mother who enlisted her assistance by telling her she was mommy’s helper. Joan went along with it; it allowed her to spend time with her mother. Happy she was not. And then the event that was to change her life occurred.

It happened one week day afternoon when Joan, her mother and her brother Fred were in the kitchen. Her mother was preparing to feed Fred who was ten months old. He was sitting in his high chair, one of those old fashioned tall wooden seats with a tray attached where food was placed. Joan’s mother had her back to her children. Joan was teasing her brother by dangling a toy rattle in front of him. He was attempting to grab for it. He leaned forward with a thrust and over went the high chair, Fred and all. Fred was thrown from the high chair and hit his head on the tiled kitchen floor. Joan’s mother, startled by the crashed, turned to find her baby boy lying unconscious at her feet. Hysterical, she screamed at Joan, ‘what did you do?’ Joan, terrified said she was playing with Fred. Her mother screamed over and over, what did you do, what did you do? Panicked, Joan’s mother grabbed both children, and