The Tragedy of My Brother (1)
I've got a lot of ideas bouncing around in my head that I want to write about. It seems I'm incapable of connecting to myself outside of the really early morning hours. I'll start with the first one.
I have a brother. He is four years older than me. People often talk about older brothers and their sisters, so I thought my experience was/is normal. It's normal to physically fight your sibling. It's not normal for the cruelty displayed in childhood to carry on into our adult lives. He seems to have lost his kindness. The PJ I grew up with is not the PJ I live with today. I remember him turning on the radio and playing games with me in our room while our parents fought. I remember him apologizing when he did something that genuinely hurt me. I remember him taking me out of the house when I would fight with my mom. He ruined everything I used to like. I guess it's always been inside of him, the capability to become my mother. It feels unfair. I miss the brother that used to explain video games to me while I watched him play. I miss when he respected me.
If I had to pick a word, I guess I would pick trauma. PJ thinks some of my triggers are stupid, and that they make no sense. To him, I guess he feels like he's helping. I guess he thinks that I'll "snap out of it" and realize my fears are irrational if he forces them onto me and ridicules me for my response. Maybe he thinks that he's teaching me how the real world works by picking apart everything I enjoy. I think he forgets that he's the reason I like(d) some of those things.
I don't know what I did. I don't know what's wrong with me. We used to speak the same language, and now he pretends he can't understand me. Why doesn't he want to see me happy? I tried so hard to save him. I knew that I was younger and cuter and they needed me to look good for the pictures. I never expected unconditional love from our parents. I never expected PJ to always be there for me. I did expect him to try. There must be something wrong with me. I am the least common denominator in my own life. I don't feel abandoned, I feel betrayed.
I don't even want to be loved, I just want to be understood. Some people say that's the same thing. I don't really care how someone feels about me, I really only care about how they treat me. I don't think I know how to love. I know how to sacrifice and listen and show up and change and empathize. I know how to manipulate language in a way that approximates how I feel about someone, but I don't know how to love someone when times are good. I know how to give everything and want nothing in return, but what do I do when there's nothing to give? Back to the dog analogy, what does a sheepdog do when the farmer sells his farm?
I can't finish this tonight. I apologize to my readers. I'm too dissociated to form a coherent thought. (It's taken me 10 minutes to write this apology.) I'll make another post that continues on the topic of shame, either inside or outside of the ways my brother has reinforced it for me. Thank you for being patient with me.