My addiction tore me and my brother apart after being inseparable

Sitting on the terrace of a café in the old town of Gdansk, my brother and I sipped coffee in silence. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Alex and said: ‘I’m sorry for leaving you for so long.’. He then turned to me, tears visible in both of our eyes, and replied: ‘Me too.’. It was a monumental moment that marked the end of a decade-long estrangement between us. Growing up, Alex and I were inseparable.

With only a year between us, I have fond memories of building dens out of sticks in our back garden, biking through muddy trails in the forests near our home, and endless weekends spent playing music in our bedroom, sketching band logos, and dreaming of fame. That all changed though when I left for university in 2013. I moved to Aberdeen – which was a two-hour journey by train from where we grew up – to study, but I promised that things between us wouldn’t change.

At first, we stayed in touch via the odd text. Then, as my addiction to alcohol began to take hold, our conversations quickly diminished. I deliberately distanced myself from my brother as I didn’t want him figuring out that something wasn’t right. Meanwhile Alex, still in high school, was facing his own challenges. He was battling depression and anxiety which, as I now know, was caused by me pushing him away.

By my second year of university, our bond had faded completely. At that point the hold my addictions had over me tightened and my brother’s depression deteriorated, and any contact we’d had up to then was now non-existent. On several occasions I did think about reaching out to my brother, but shame kept me from doing so. I convinced myself he was better off without me. Before I knew it, nearly 10 years had passed this way as I remained in the north east while he lived in our home town.

During that time, my drinking had become severely problematic but I had also become a father to my son, Neil. Sadly, I suffered from postnatal depression which drove me to continually choose drink over my new family. I’d often stay out late for days, leaving Neil’s mum to worry while looking after our son. Ultimately, it cost me our relationship and at my lowest, I had thoughts of taking my own life.

Finally accepting that I was an addict and needed help, I was desperate to confide in someone. I longed for my brother back. That’s when my mother urged me to reconnect. ‘You both need each other now, more than ever,’ she said. I reached out by phone – hearing his voice after all this time filled me with palpable joy. The call itself was brief. His responses were short. He told me that he wanted to speak but didn’t know how to get his words out. I told him not to worry and we left the call there, with the agreement that I would ring again.

After I did so a few more times we agreed that we would meet up in person. Despite numerous attempts, my brother would always get cold feet at the last moment and plans would get cancelled. We eventually decided we needed to meet on a neutral ground. For emotional support, you can call the Samaritans 24-hour helpline on 116 123, email jo@samaritans.org, visit a Samaritans branch in person or go to the Samaritans website.

Their HOPELINE247 is open every day of the year, 24 hours a day. You can call 0800 068 4141, text 88247 or email: pat@papyrus-uk.org. That’s when a friend of my mum’s and a friend of my brother’s recommended Gdansk, Poland. As we had no history, friends or family there, going would force us to stick together and confront each other. It would be the push we needed. We booked the trip for October 2024 but I wasn’t sure what to expect. A part of me worried that we had waited too long for any possibility of reconnecting.

But, as soon as I saw him at the airport, my fears eased. He looked older, obviously, but the mischievous glint in his eyes was unchanged. We hesitated for a second before throwing ourselves into a warm embrace. ‘I’ve missed you, brother,’ I said, the tears pricking at my eyes. Over the years, Mum had often hinted at his isolation, but it was only on our trip that I learned the true depth of his struggles.

During one particular walk along the embankment of the river Motlawa, he revealed years of crushing loneliness and depression, which he told me had started when I’d pushed him away. Learning that I had a large part to play in what my brother had gone through is something that causes me a great deal of pain to this day, and it’s something that I’m working hard to make right. This series aims to offer a nuanced look at familial estrangement.

Estrangement is not a one-size-fits-all situation, and we want to give voice to those who've been through it themselves. If you've experienced estrangement personally and want to share your story, you can email jess.austin@metro.co.uk. Much of the trip was like this: we spent the days walking through the city’s narrow streets, sharing not just our regrets but the painful truths of how life had unfolded.