We are all about fake things in the world. So here is the most real status you’ll ever see from me.
My little brother isn’t speaking to me and every time a picture of us pops up on my news feed I cry. He isn’t speaking to me because he wasn’t a groomsmen despite the fact that he also didn’t speak to us for 8 months of a year prior to our wedding. I pretend I don’t care but I do. Although I can’t tell if I care because I care about him or if I feel the need to keep tabs on everything. Everytime I think about reaching out he contacts my Mom who contacts me and that just makes me mad. Can everyone please mind their own business? Enough with the triangulation.
Each one of these points of contact makes me hyperventilate or have a panic attack like I’m 10 years old again and have done nothing wrong – yet I’m being blamed for it. He deleted me from Facebook. He asked for peace and quiet and to not have any pictures. You can’t have your cake and fucking eat it too.
Speaking of the wedding. I was so excited to get those pictures but that ended as soon as I realized no matter what I did with them I would be shit on. I don’t want people to simply have our photos. I sent them to my Mom which was a mistake but now people are asking her for them instead of speaking to me. Am I really that invisible? Fuck. Fuck all of you. Fuck all of this.
I sent them to him and got this in return “your consideration astounds me.” You know what? I’m done. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a little brother. He’s dead to me. I’m done playing these games. I’m done being a pushover. And it’s mother fucking freeing. There are so many people in this world who choose me because I’m me. And it’s them – those people – who deserve my attention.
I have no money. I need counseling to deal with attachment trauma and PTSD from my brother being my brother for most of my childhood but I can’t afford it. Meanwhile, my parents pay for my brothers music, his rent, they lend him their car. But when I tried hitting them up for money last month because the reason I’m so fucked up is my childhood they told me I’m the ‘good one’ who doesn’t need therapy. For once, I want to be the bad one. I want to break shit and throw things and fuck up someone else’s life.
Essentially I’m a big broken fucked up mess. If I want to see my counselor I have to freelance. But I’m so fucking tired. I have a heart problem caused by stress.
Fuck it. Fuck this shit.
I spend most of my days convincing myself that quitting isn’t an option that is worth it, or lying in my bed with crippling anxiety and stress. Because I never learned how to stand up for myself.
Too bad. I’m standing up for myself now. Even if everytime I do it I shake for 12 hours and need to sleep and can’t focus. I’m done being walked over. I’m done. And unless he’s seeking reconciliation, I want nothing to do with him anymore.