I got into a fight with my brother today. Not really a surprise, since he’s always right and I’m always wrong. But still. Words were said and naturally, I walked away more hurt and shattered than I was before it all started. How he has that affect on me, still to this day, I have no idea. His world is so miniscule – and inside his world, his perception of reality is seriously skewed. Because, of course, he’s the victim – the martyr – the innocent one – the king of all things right and correct.
I got my tears out of the way. Brandy and Cassie brought me back to earth…their love for me erased the sting of my brother’s words. I love that I have godly friends I can turn too when I feel like chaos has enveloped me. When talking to Brandy, she mentioned that she sometimes forgets that I have a brother – because I rarely mention him. In all honesty, there’s not much to say about him. And rather than blogging and venting about today, which really won’t make me feel any better – it’ll merely bring back the searing pain I was feeling earlier – I’m going to share what’s been said before. Why recreate the wheel? It’s cathartic to go back and re-read what’s been written…to see the growth…to see that I’ve processed through all of this before. I’m sure there are more posts out there, somewhere, but I’m emotionally exhausted and want to see the inside of my eyelids. But here’s step 1 to transparency…
What’s your damage? 03.09.05 (7:23 am)
I realized the other day that my car is the epitome of me. When she gets hurt, her exterior doesn’t show it, but her interior is much more fragile than you would think. I was in a car accident back in September, my car sustained minimal cosmetic damages, but boy, did I walk away with some pain. In fact, I’m still in physical therapy because the lumbar support in my seat hit me at a pretty high speed (I was rear-ended while at a dead stop). Her exterior held up pretty well, it was her interior that wasn’t quite the same after. Just like me.
What’s your damage? Self-inflicted I think. After therapy, after EMDR, after re-processing the messages I was sending myself, I realize now that most of my emotional hurt has been self-inflicted. I didn’t have a horrible childhood. I have two very loving, wonderful parents, who are still together after 33 years. Sure, we had our bobbles in the road of life, but who doesn’t? My life wasn’t horrible, but I think my witnessing my brother’s emotional roller coaster is what did it in for me.
We’re nearly four years apart, so while he was testing every proverbial boundary as a teenager, my emotions were very rocky thanks to pre-teen angst. You can ask anyone who knew me when, and I do admit to being overly-sensitive during that period in my life. That’s when the first glimpses started to appear that I was chemically imbalanced (prone to depression). But I ignored that because my family chalked it up to me just being a “teen girl.”
All this background aside, one can easily see how impressionable I was at this period in my life. I did not handle it well at all when my brother decided to rock my perfect world. I always thought we were the picture-perfect family, so I couldn’t understand why my brother thought differently. We were in the same house, we had the same parents, we had the same rules. So why was his reality so much more different than mine? No one knows this answer except for him, because again, it is HIS perception of reality, not mine.
I don’t like the hurt and pain my brother’s actions caused my parents. I couldn’t understand it. I wanted to protect them because they are good people who didn’t deserve this phase in our lives. To cope, I delved deeper into MY perception of reality, creating an almost fairy-tale setting. Denial was a great state of mind for me during that time. In fact, I’ve blocked out most of those couple of years where home life was rocky because I was too busy thinking it was status quo. My brother was replaced by some pod person, it wasn’t really him doing all this damage.
Sometimes, I want to push him to answer WHY all this happened. What’s your damage?! I want to scream that at him, get him to confess where he was at during that point in his life. But I can’t because the 13 year-old girl that is trapped in the cobwebs of my mind doesn’t want to relive her reality from long ago.
|09.07.05 (7:06 am)|
One of the things that has been holding me back has been me bringing my brother up to speed on the haps in my life. I adore my Bubba – always have, always will. We are completely opposite people – our temperments couldn’t be more polar. It’s amazing. But we’re in the same industry. Funny how that works out.
Anyway, I’ve been avoiding telling him about me having to move back in with mom and dad because I am in no mood to have him confirm my feelings of failure. I know he won’t do it – but, there’s no telling what his wife will say. Typically, I could care less about what people think of me – but for some reason, his opinion really matters. And my SIL has a strange hold on this man who is a bear and just as bullheaded as me.
Let me back up the bus a little bit. Remember me feeling like a 13 year-pld girl trapped in the cobwebs of my mind? She’s still there, and she was put there by my brother. Growing up with him was rough, especially when he hit high school. I’m sure it was the drinking and drugs that turned him into a completely different person and made him unbearable – but I was also a newbie teen…which is when hormones are unstable (even more than normal) and the psyche is so incredibly fragile. Imagine all the development that takes place during that time. There’s a lot there. What happens to us in those precious moments shape us for the future.
There are many a hole in the wall thanks to his fist missing my face. My bedroom door no longer locks or shuts properly thanks to his brut force. My feelings of unworthiness and insecurity came to life during this time. His threats, physical and mental, made me be the girl who cowers in the corner. I’ve done enough therapy in this lifetime to heal those wounds, but the scar tissue hasn’t healed and sometimes those wounds open up and bleed all over again,
We’ve come to a good place over the years…but I thrive on his love and attention and acceptance, simply because it was lacking in my nurturing years. I know he envied me growing up, I was the “good one.” But I was the good one because of his doing. Had he not been a royal asshole, he wouldn’t have had the label of being the “bad seed.” That’s a result of his actions. He chose to do it.
So – off I went the other night, crying silent tears because I knew it was time to tell him what’s been going on. Sooner or later, he was going to figure it out – especially when my phone no longer worked. But the fear of possibly having him confirm my feelings of failure have kept me from saying a word.
I know he won’t say that. I know it, I know it, I know it. He’ll be completely supportive of me and this decision, and he’ll do what he can from afar to make it a peaceful decision. But, still that fear is there because the what-ifs that are rolling through my mind have the potential of coming true.
Do we ever truly heal? I’m beginning to think that we don’t. We can forgive but we can’t forget because our emotions are tied to the memories…a wise person said that there are too many senses involved to ever completely forget, that we need to learn to let go and let it fade over time.
So why, after 15 years, has it not faded?