Daily Post 125: Sibling Rivalry​

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I think my aversion to writing stems from the fact that I process when I write, and at the moment I really don’t feel like dealing with anything.

 

Yesterday started off well enough, until I started messaging my younger brother. He said he was going to send me an email and that he was sorry if it made me cry, that wasn’t his intention, but he wanted to get some stuff off his chest so we could move forward with our relationship.

 

Great. So this is going to be an email where he bashes me…

 

And that’s exactly what it was.

 

He said I lied to mom.

 

In not so many words he said he thought I was a failure. He said he wants to go to Full Sail to prove that he’s better than me and that he didn’t agree with the choices I’ve made since I’ve graduated.

 

He said he’s mad that my loans are being forgiven. He thinks I should keep my debt because I deserve it, as  a form of punishment.

 

He said he’s still angry that mom helped me with school and not him and that he either can’t or doesn’t want to let go of that anger. I can’t remember what it was and I don’t want to re-read the email again because reading it once sucked enough to last me a while.

 

He said he wants to blame me for his depression and isolation in Germany because the only reason he joined the military was to get the GI bill for school which he only needed because mom wouldn’t help him with school.

 

He said the past four years any time we’ve hung out he’s had a mask on, covering up his anger and that he could only handle me in smaller and smaller doses.

 

Pretty much any fear I had he poked at or confirmed. I spent a solid hour feeling like an actual failure. And what sucked more was even though the only thing I wanted was for the pain in my chest to stop I knew I couldn’t kill myself because if I did he would twist it into something about how I was selfish and only thought of myself. My death wouldn’t have made him sad or feel guilty. It would just be another reason to be mad at me.

 

I didn’t want mom to die so my loans could be forgiven. In fact, I wasn’t even the one who looked into it. It never entered my mind to see if they could be forgiven. And I spent two weeks being furious with the Universe all over again because I didn’t want this “amazing” thing to happen to me. I  wanted mom back. I would gladly double, triple, quadruple my debt if it meant mom could come back.

 

And here my brother is, being upset at me because my loan forgiveness was something I had control over…

 

It got really dark inside of my head and I’m grateful that I was able to talk to Warren #1 shortly after getting Jon’s message. I don’t know what I would have done without his support. Nothing good I’m sure. While I was talking to him I remembered something that mom had said to me while she was in the hospital.

 

She told me herself she was proud of me.

 

She was proud. Even with all of the “mistakes” I’ve made she was proud.

 

My brother can go fuck himself.

 

Even he admitted that his therapist advised him to let go of the animosity over mom helping me with school, and he would rather hold onto that anger. Until he’s done casting himself in a victim role and labeling me as his persecutor I’m done. I’m done with being the target for him. This isn’t the first time he’s lashed out at me. I’m sure it won’t be the last, but I don’t have to keep putting myself in his line of sight.

 

Until he’s done being a douche to me I’m not going to interact with him. A fire can’t burn if there isn’t fuel, so I’m removing myself from the equation. Maybe one day he’ll grow up and realize that all of this pettiness that I legitimately had nothing to do with is just anger he’s allowing to fester inside of himself. I have / had no control over mom’s actions and choices.

 

I’m tired of reaching out and doing things for him and getting slapped in the face. Like how this past weekend I flew out to Vegas on Friday, after spending all morning in my CNA class. How I packed all of his stuff up in  mom’s apartment and  got it loaded into U-Boxes to be shipped to Orlando for him since he couldn’t fly out to do it himself, and how I flew back Sunday where my flight was delayed by three hours so I barely got any sleep before going back to my class on Monday. He’s not grateful for the fact that I answer all of the questions he asks me about Maya and how to do CG related tasks, or that I’ve hooked him up with several of my friends and former students already so he has help when I’m not available or can’t answer his questions. Or the fact that I’m trying to get him applied for a scholarship from the school since I’m an alumnus.

 

None of that matters to him.  Fine.  Then I’m done and he can figure it out on his own since he would rather be an angry, bitter child.

 

I’m  not a punching bag. I don’t have to put up with any of the stuff he said in his email, because there’s more that I haven’t written about. He’s not entitled to treat me like crap just because he’s family. In fact, I would think that being family obligates him to NOT treat me like that because we’re supposed to stick together. And I would expect after mom’s death that we would be closer, but instead he would rather let his anger ruin our relationship. I don’t even know if I want to try to salvage anything.

 

I had thought on the 28th I would finally have someone to spend an “important day” with. It wouldn’t be like the one month mark, or Mother’s Day where I had to spend all of these significant dates alone. I thought he and I would have been able to grieve together on mom’s birthday. But I’m not going to be able to spend any time with him, I’m not going to be able to even  see him, without thinking about how he thinks I’m a failure.

 

I don’t need negativity in my life. And if that means not being around Jon then I guess that’s how it has to be. I’ve done a lot to remove toxic people from my life, and if he’s so set on being a toxic person then he can enjoy his exile. I deserve to be treated better and I’m not going to take responsibility for his own actions. His emotions are his choice as well. He’s choosing to be angry over something that is four years old. That’s a really long time to hold on to anger.

 

At the moment I don’t care. At the moment I’m  thinking about how he blamed me on his only being able to see mom twice before she was hospitalized because he  was  in Germany, a place he chose to go to.

 

Pretty much the only thing he didn’t blame me for was mom’s actual death.

 

We’re all hurting. We all feel wronged by her death, and we all want someone to blame. Be angry at the Universe like I am. Stop making me your fucking target so you can keep being the “baby”. Grow up. You’re 25. You’re not a child, but people, all people, are going to keep treating you like one because that’s how you act. Like a jealous, ungrateful, spoiled, self-centered, thoughtless child.

 

I’m not mom. I’m not going to handhold you through life. If you are vicious to me then I’m going to remove you because I deserve to be treated better than that.

 

Tonight is another night where I have a drink in front of me that I’m going to finish in hopes that I sleep the whole night instead of staying up, struggling, fighting with the evil voice inside my head when it starts wondering if Jon is right and maybe I am a failure.

 

I’m not a failure!

 

I’m not! I’m going to do amazing on my test on Friday. And I’ll continue to do well in my classes, and I’ll find a job that I like and I’ll become a PTA and I’ll eventually find some form of emotional stability with mom’s death and I’ll keep living life and helping people and one day that purpose and drive will come back to me and it won’t feel so forced or fake or empty. My smiles won’t hurt as much. I won’t look to things like Pokemon Go as a distraction to keep me out of my room so I’m not reminded that I feel alone.

 

I will win the game of life by being happy and as long as I’m happy I’m not a failure because that’s the only thing mom wanted. Was for me to be happy. And she was proud of me. So yeah. Like I said, he can go fuck himself with his burning passion to prove that he’s better than me.

 

It’s not about being better. There is no “better”. There’s different. Maybe one day he’ll understand that. Or maybe once his name is in movie credits and he feels accomplished, and successful, and vindicated maybe he’ll be able to have some form of peace because he “proved” something. I don’t know. I wish him peace because anger takes a lot of energy and I can’t image what it’s been like holding on to all of that for four years.

 

A large part of me feels like he’s going to hold onto this until his dying breath and that he’ll pass away cursing me, blaming me, resenting me just for breathing. I have done nothing but make his life hell and insufferable apparently. Fine. I’ll hopefully make it marginally better by removing myself from it.

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