I’m going to keep this as factual as possible and not go too ”ranty”. Firstly, I’m really happy I found this forum because ALONE doesn’t quite manage to sum up the last 20 years.
My younger brother began drinking at 14, graduating to coke, and eventually Ket and brown over the last 7 years. When I say he is oppositional to the point of childishness, I mean it.
With this comes uncleanliness (urinating in jars and leaving them around the mattress he sleeps on, cigarette butts, plates of food, jugs of coffee, beer cans), poor hygiene (his breath smells of actual excrement), catastrophising (”nobody cares” every time someone upholds or maintains a boundary), deep pangs of anxiety where he is shouting ”woah, woah” and stumbling round the house to get his footing, and absolutely no regard for other peoples personal space or peace.
He behaves like a football hooligan.
At 32, he is now a fully developed man-child. I believe that lack of boundaries and appropriate mental health support as a kid means we’re now treading on eggshells around a man who’s mental health is precarious at best and harmful at worst. Because he was a problem child, my mum always tried to be his friend rather then discipline him, when my Dad tried to put boundaries in place, Mum basically binned them off in my Dad’s face, in full view of my brother which of course emboldened his behaviour.
Dad died in 2018 (alcoholic also – but a more pleasant drunk, but a drunk all the same), and we couldn’t find my brother for 2 days because he was on a binge.
In April this year, he saw fit to come in at 3am, leaning over our younger brother (disabled, wheelchair bound) regaling him with tales about his low mental health…and the things that come with that feeling.
I didn’t know who was in the house so I went in the room asking what he was doing. The boy screamed blue murder because he was scared (the paranoia kicking in from all the nasty things he’s done to people outside for a fix, no doubt playing on his mind), then proceeds to call me every name under the sun.
I’ve been called a ‘f@t slut’ (LOL, I’ll take the former, but the latter, funnily enough, s£x has been the last thing on my mind the last 5 years trying to keep everyone fed and watered in the house whilst our mum enables him and lets him financially mug her off daily), more times in the last 6 months than I ever have in my life – in fact, I’ve never been spoken to like this.
He pushed a door on my arm – arm was on FIRE all morning, I went to work as normal then my other brother pointed my arm out to me, it was black and purple – 25 cm long and about 8 cm wide.
I took photo’s and was actually wanting to go to the police. If he got time, he could get help and we would get a break from him, but I didn’t and have basically been no contact since then.
about a month ago, he comes in full of the joys as he’s had a skinful this time – when he’s drunk and spritely, we’re all supposed to be too. He sits in the backroom (which doubles as disabled brothers bedroom) 16-18 hours a day on live streams talking to Filipino’s on a live stream the whole day on loud speaker. It’s like an episode of Black Mirror…..squawking Tagalog and canned laughter and you just can’t turn it off.
Disabled brother was minding his business, and he starts tickling him, taking the mick out of his hair, then when disabled brother basically says alright, it’s not a joke anymore, he starts screaming at him.
Another brother came from upstairs to see what the commotion is about, Mum comes in going off at disabled brother, I’m there like ”wtf? Mum, you didn’t see anything so how have you decided disabled brother was the issue?”
Whilst that’s going on, addict brother goes for other brother who came in to check what’s going on because he was ”staring”.
I never know what this blokes taken on top of the drink so I jumped on him to get him off (stupid, but instincts have no logic at the time).
He gets off, so of course, I’m now the subject of the abuse – threats of violence, f@t sl*t and wished us all dead.
I just told him to remember all this when he needs a quid for a beer and if he was to hit me, he needs to make sure he leaves a mark because I would be calling the police so we can all get some f**king kip.
He has two kids and his Mrs basically said ‘no more’ and wants nothing to do with him, he tried to frame it like it was all her but coming in coked out of his nut at the time whilst his kids were in bed isn’t the life any decent mother wants for her kids.
So me and my Mum have got it instead. I can afford to move out but I can’t if I’m basically running my own home and hers because he wont go out and earn a crust to contribute to bills.
I’ve considered doing an anonymous referral to social, so they can house him, but when we got him housed last time, it was like a whole operation to catch a wounded bear. He got a place but he behaved like such an animal in the place, they wanted him out…basically all what he was doing to us, he was doing there.
My Mum has aged about 10 years, I’ve told her, if he was my son, he wouldn’t even know where I live. This Dot and Nick Cotton sh*t they’ve got going on, isn’t really my cup of tea. He really believes and has told her the rest of us siblings are ‘jealous’ of their relationship…..yes, this is the delusion we’re living with….in the last 11 months:
He has woke up in hospital after seizing in the high street, they let him go with a leaflet. All his ‘mates’ had left him at the scene.
He has also crashed his electric bike into shop shutters and knocked himself out in front of the police after driving under the influence.
He has been given a spiked spice cigarette and collapsed at home.
He is in and out all hours of the night, coming back under the influence of who knows what.
Getting blind drunk, shouting at people for putting boundaries in place, then sobers up and starts begging it…not like ”I’m sorry for XYZ”.
Basically, I’m at a point now where, I personally don’t care what happens to him.
He has ruined every birthday, Christmas and Easter since I was 17 – I just turned 36 last year. What I’ve realised this year is that:
- I truly have lost all respect for him.
- He is a user, as in liberty taker and sees people as expendable.
- Family means nothing to him.
- He uses ‘family’ to provide himself a veneer of respectability but he has no morals.
- His sense of justice only matters when he’s philosophising on his app (full of young Filipina’s looking for Westerners to profess their ‘undying love’ for) or a captive audience like other addicts.
- His ego is spider-web fragile.
- He believes time is an apology.
- He cannot take criticism (whether dressed in a bow, sandwiched within undue praise or otherwise)
- I deeply deeply dislike him.
- I believe he at least has ADHD.
- He doesn’t want to be clean
- He actively seeks chaos because dealing with himself is too much of a burden to bear.
We’ve had to keep this to ourselves for years, but naturally people see him about and ask questions. I’ve actually updated my voicemail to say, if you’ve seen him crawling the streets, don’t leave a message because I don’t care. I can’t talk to anybody else about this because they’ll be like what in the Jeremy Kyle is this?
I feel nothing. At first I felt bad for feeling nothing but essentially, I’ve been paying all the bills in the house. He has warmth, shelter, food and a bed because of me (these are standard things any human should have regardless of being an addict or not), but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t rankle.
I’ve not said a word about anything but other brother made a comment the other day when addicted brother went and made something to eat from shopping I brought and said ”why would you want to eat food a ”f@t sl*t’ has paid for?”.
Addict brother did his usual feigning contrition, and went back to his smelly little hidey hole and waited for Mummy to bring other shopping in.
It is what it is, eat what you want. I just feel so annoyed and numb.
Our mother keeps banging on about him getting his own place but he talks all over her making excuses.
As I say, I can actually leave and be alright, but what my wage doesn’t account for is running my home and hers because she has a son living with her that refuses to work or sign on.
It’s such a mess, and I am DREADING Christmas, honestly – the last two years, I’ve booked hotel rooms in August for the festive period, then on the day made out i’m ‘going to see mates” and spend a few hours in a peaceful hotel room eating crap out the vending machine.
I think I might have to do the same again this year and stick it on my credit card, even if it’s a last minute booking because I cannot take this anymore and I don’t know what I can do that is proportionate and supportive for all involved.
I’M SO SORRY, I’VE REALISED HOW EFFING LONG THIS IS…*SIGH*