This is what I remember of my older brother. Always teasing me. Never protecting me. In fact, my first week of grade 9 I had so many strangers coming up to me to tell me how weird my older brother was. That he ate his own boogers in class. GREAT. Like it doesn't already hurt that I'm in grade 9. Now I have a loser older brother's reputation to deal with too.
I've been dreaming about him lately. Or nighmaring. If I could stick a fork into my brain and kill any and all memories I have of him I would. There isn't one that comes to mind that is heartwarming or kind or nostalgic in ANY way.
Once we stopped for ice cream as a family and I too eagerly was licking my ice cream. The whole thing fell off the cone onto the ground. Of course, I was NOT getting another one. So I started to cry. My brother, (I refuse to utter his name or even type it) started to laugh and then continued to exaggerate his licking his ice cream cone right in front of me. Like WHAT AN ASS! If one of my boys did that, they would lose their ice cream cone right then and there to the younger sibling. But I would have refused. Or thrown his on the ground too. ASSHOLE.
He's always been an asshole. And always needed "help". But that doesn't excuse what he did to me. My whole trust system was built on an experience of the only two older men in my home taking advantage of me. Think about that for a second. How was I taught to trust men? How was I taught how to be treated by a man? The people who influence you the most are those who you are exposed to on a regular basis growing up, right? Well, the men in my life sucked.
I love my father. I think he is a good man. But he has some SERIOUS demons that ended up fucking me up pretty damn bad. I believe he has tried to atone for his sins and do better. My brother is just fucked up and thinks everyone else is to blame. That's why he left the family. I mean GOOD RIDDENS!!! I wouldn't have a thing to do with him if he were still a part of the family. Thank GOD for small miracles.
Thanks to my mother, Kiefer now knows about my older brother. And his name. Oh yippy! And he wants to meet him. I try to explain to him what a horrible person he is. And that Daddy hasn't even met him. That my job is to protect him and that there is NO WAY I'm ever letting him meet him as he hurt me very badly as a child. But Kiefer is pure love and innocence and sees no way that someone related to me could possibly want to hurt him.
sigh.
I thought I was over what he did to me. But clearly working on this therapy and digging into the past is bringing up a lot of shit for me. A LOT OF SHIT.
Paul has been super supportive but he wants me to get a full-time job. I don't think he realizes just how much I do around here. And how things are barely holding on right now as it is!
Or maybe I'm afraid of how barely holding on I am.
I'm angry about the life that was stolen from me. A life where a little girl has a protective older brother. A life where a little girl doesn't feel awkward dancing with her father at a wedding because she is SURE that everyone will figure out what's going on if they dance close to one another.
A life where she felt FREE to express herself and open to be who she really was. Instead, she was shy and scared and bit her nails and tried to be a tomboy because then maybe I wouldn't be as desirable.
I wonder what kind of confident assured successful person I would be today if I wasn't so broken when I went to University.
Ya so I guess that's the unresolved bit. I'm still angry.
But I'm working on me. I am working on healing that little girl inside me and letting her know that she CAN be free. She CAN be confident.
Because no one is going to hurt her again. I won't let that happen.
💜
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