More Words, Still No

Today, I’m torn. I’m unsure about whether I would get anything positive from writing about what happened yesterday and how I feel about it. This place feels like a safe space for me to vent about things, make confessions, and discuss how I want to tackle things that I find difficult going forwards, but this is a little bit more difficult.

I have issues – very serious issues – with both my brother and my dad. My mother is the most gentle, caring, compassionate woman in the world, and that’s what holds me back from just saying “I give up.” I feel trapped between the fear of losing all of them completely if I stand up for myself, and the second option which is that the entirety of all our familial issues are my problem and I’m the one exacerbating the situation. I don’t want either of those to be the case.

But how do you sit down and tell people that you care about, that if they weren’t related to you, you wouldn’t want anything to do with them?

I love my dad and my brother. A lot. I think of my brother as my best friend, and my dad is my sounding board for practically everything. As I’ve said, I’m living with a chronic condition, and both of them are super accommodating and worry about me. Driving me places, taking me to the train so I don’t have to worry about my luggage. I know they both care about me.


Then they do things like yesterday.

My brother is unemployed and lives at home. He also has a weed habit. He regularly calls me and asks for money, and, knowing that I’m lonely because it’s hard for me to go out, he agrees to things like “I’ll spend x amount of time watching something with you, or playing a game online with you, and you lend me some money.” So I lend him some money. And then he doesn’t spend any time with me. Days trickle past. I’m lonely but now I’m both lonely and dealing with the fact that my brother knows I’m lonely and doesn’t care because he got what he wanted from the deal so his part doesn’t matter. He’s my brother, so he can say “sorry, man, I wasn’t feeling good so I didn’t talk to you for three days,” and I’ll be OK with it, right?

The part that really gets me in this scenario, though, is that this is the way it happens every. Single. Time. And so now, when it happens and I get upset about it, and want to know when we’re going to hang out, what he tells me is:

“One thing though, if you treat other people like this dude you’re going to be really lonely and as much as you might lie to yourself and say you’re OK with that it’s only because you’re lonely that you’re asking me to do stuff with you in the first place.”

(By “treat other people like this” he means tell them “why aren’t you spending time with me like you promised?”)


I don’t feel loved by my brother or dad. I don’t feel like I’m a part of the family equation anymore. I feel like I’m the fat potato they drag around with them, or reluctantly spend time with, and it’s killing me. My brother repeatedly and frequently makes comments about how alone I am and that I essentially deserve it. My dad continues to make snide remarks about my eating and appearance. And I sit here feeling that the fat potato is how they really see me, because it’s certainly what’s reflected in their words and actions.

Maybe all of this is a natural part of growing up, and growing as a person, that I’m seeing these things about my family now. Maybe I am an awful person and they’re doing this because I make them feel hopeless, and I make them wish they weren’t around. Perhaps I deserve it. So, my battle right now is trying to figure out if it’s me that’s the problem, or them, or both and we all need psychological help (I’m putting money on the latter).

The balancing issue here is about whether I should stick up for myself or not. Neither my brother nor my dad likes being in the wrong about anything. My dad got it from his mother, my brother (and I) get it from dad. It’s a complete inability to hear that they have done something that is either wrong or has hurt someone. I mean, I can see it playing out in the future right now.

Me: Dad, I need to talk to you about something that’s bothering me.
Dad: OK, darling, what’s going on?
Me: You made a comment earlier about something I was eating and it made me feel bad about myself because…
Dad: Well, I mean, come on. You’re overweight and you’re eating white bread.
Me: It was the first thing I had all day…
Dad: I’m just thinking of you. You know you don’t always make the best choices. You always do this to me.

It’s just not possible, with either of these men, to sit down and have a conversation that involves them saying “you’re right, I do that, and I’m sorry I didn’t realise it made you feel bad.” It’s just not an option. Everything is going to be my fault, and in a lot of ways I just feel like it’s not worth it.

Normally I try to write my blogs in a way that has a positive ending, or gives me a lesson to look back on and hopefully change my perspective on things. but this fucking situation… Ugh. There’s no happy ending to this shit show. God, I don’t even know where to go from here…

I’m just going to sign off here, with no further insights, and no idea what I should do now, because that is exactly how I fucking feel.

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