[natasha911]

I have to write this out. I have to scream this out. I hate my brother and I wish he would pass on. He doesn’t know how much I hate him. I expect no one to read this as it’s a diatribe but at least I expect someone here to understand.

My brother is 47. He was rebellious as a teenager in many self destructive ways, but he got out of that and became very successful at his work. He’s very intelligent, much more so than me. He’s always been a smoker, so I guess addiction has been an issue, but 10+ years ago he began to escalate his drinking. He started with 3-4 beers, then added on wine and then it went into hard liquor – 3-4 glasses. It obviously escalated – while we were all uncomfortable with his drinking, we didn’t realise he had turned into an alcoholic. Things went wrong at work – so his identity crumpled. His marriage has always been volatile and as we found out, he convinced his wife to agree to some open marriage pact a few years ago though both of them are literally the least suitable candidates given their immaturity and volatility. That obviously went south in many ways, her resentment of him increased though she enjoys the money too much to leave (she doesn’t work). Their relationship got more and more toxic. Over the last 10 years, she would frequently harangue me – it started as a way to confide in someone she trusted but slowly just escalated into verbal abuse. She began to drink more.

They would have violent fights that involved the police. The final time she called me was so abusive that our once close relationship was completely broken.

When he came to visit me in 2019, he drank like a fish. He couldn’t step out, he refused to walk anywhere, him and his wife barely spoke to each other. Overall it was a shitty shitty visit and I was glad to see the back of them both.

A month later in December 2019, he had a full blown mental breakdown (looking back now it was all leading to this). Hed started drinking through the day and obviously his work noticed and manuevered to sideline him. This pushed him to the brink (he literally has no self awareness. He still talks about what happened at work as if his behavior had nothing to do with it. He tells me stories of how he used to sleep in meetings and wake up and solve endless discussions with some clever idea. He thinks they all should be grateful to him because they agreed with his amazing idea, when in reality the whole table was probably embarrassed for him).So he basically just didn’t leave the bed or stop drinking at this point, and stopped eating. His inlaws were in town. He became bedridden. A couple of times they found him unconscious in the bathroom having soiled himself. The stories I heard about this time were sick, hurtful and demented.

He was supposed to come to my city for Christmas, but didn’t get out of bed – he missed a first class trans Atlantic flight which cost thousands of dollars. His wife asked me and my parents to come (I was 8 months pregnant) and we booked flights immediately – my parents, me and my family.

When I saw him, he was a wasted figure in his bed. He refused to seek medical help. He was basically going to die. Somehow we got him to an emergency room and after a few days he came back home. He refused to go to rehab. The scenes over those next days – I cannot describe the ugliness of that time adequately. I hated every moment. We were all – his in laws, his wife, us – stuck in that damn house as he went about his addiction blissfully. his wife had confiscated his bottles and me and my husband took them to be thrown. We threw out 50 bottles, empty and half full. I can still hear the harsh clanging noise as the glass hit the bin. It still fills me with horror. He just sat there as we all tore each other apart because of the stress. The revelations that came from his wife – about finding pictures of him naked with prostitutes – made me sick to my stomach. His behavior just killed all the relationships in the house.

I got back. And for the whole of 2020, this same scene played out during the pandemic. He was admitted twice or thrice more to the hospital. As if he hadn’t done enough damage , he messaged a former friend of mine on Facebook asking to send him nude pictures. This woman hates me. She told all my friends. My friends contacted my husband who messaged my brother to stop. No one told me because I was in labour. The whole world had just gone into lockdown. I was stuck in the hospital by myself after a c section with a newborn having panic attacks about COVID-19. Meanwhile, this guy was messaging people I knew for nude pictures. The woman – who hasn’t spoken to me forever – contacted me 2 days after I returned from the hospital. I guess she was worried I wouldn’t find out and she needed to experience some glee in telling me herself. I was devastated. I was sickened to my stomach. To ruin his life was one thing but to do this within my circle of friends was something else. And the creepiness of it all – asking for nude pictures, while being married and sitting in his own shit in the bedroom not even being able to get out of bed and fix himself a dinner as he puts his wife, his in laws, my parents and me through the winger. Bastard.

So it went for 6 months – every evening was a panic attack for me and my parents wondering what he’d done through the day, if he’d land back up in the hospital. He put us through the wringer. We couldn’t do anything because of lockdown. I missed so many precious moments with my kids during this time because of worry and anger and anxiety. Moments I will never get back.

Finally my mother, who had come to help with the baby but who’d gotten stuck due to lockdown, went home and rejoined my dad. A few months later – his wife somehow managed to drop him at my parents place. He couldn’t even walk – this healthy 47 year old was like a 95 year old. He was all bones. He continued drinking.

He put my parents through hell. One episode lasted for 10 days. My worst fears included him killing my parents from stress (both in their 70s), running through his money, running through their money and becoming a homeless alcoholic. It was inconceivable to me we had gotten.to this point and yet completely conceivable.

My mother finally got him to take anti addiction medication by stealth. He regained some of his senses. She cooked and fed him relentlessly..by mid 2021, he had somehow turned into a functional human being again.

He went back to his house and my parents came to visit me. While they were here, he flew down for a surprise visit. I pretended to be happy to see him, but I cannot deceive myself or lie to myself. I hate him. His selfishness is staggering. His indulgence of himself makes me sick. Even before his addiction, he was selfish. He never did a single thing for anyone if he didn’t want to do it. A case in point, he finds reading to my toddler son boring. He’s fond of my son, but won’t read for him. Even small things like that – he won’t undergo the slightest inconvenience for another person.

Anyway, the visit was fine. But he drinks 2 glasses during lunch and God knows how much whiskey during the night. One night he finished half a bottle of whiskey in his room. We found out because he suddenly lurched into our bedroom at 3 in the morning and fell. He had no recollection of it the next morning and I noticed the empty bottle. He won’t take anti addiction medication r “because it won’t help.” even though it probably saved his life.

He apologized to me and my husband for what he did the previous year. But what is the point of his apology? The only aspiration I have for him is that he stays a functional drunk without burdening my parents again. Plus, he really has no clue (because he doesn’t care to find out) how much he has impacted us.

Anyway, he’s back now in his home. I found out yesterday his cat died. And it triggered panic in me that he will use this as an excuse to go batshit crazy again.

I hate him. I want to say that aloud to somebody because I can’t verbalise it even to my husband. He is very fond of me. I know that. But I hate him. I hate who he is and who he has become. I find myself thinking of all the people who died in the lockdown. The young people who had so much to live for. The doctors and nurses who died saving lives. And I think of him, selfishly drinking, living a privelged existence because he’s made so much money, but still can’t find it in himself to even be happy and content with that – and I can’t help but wonder why he deserves to live when he contributes so little to society and costs his family so much.

I feel numb about him. I feel no affection. I only feel anxiety, anger and repulsion. I feel a little guilty because it would hurt him if he knew my true feelings.

If you read this, thanks. I wanted to scream into the void.

[hje]

I have just read your post. Although I can’t find the words right now, I hear you and even though my situation isn’t exactly the same I understand how frustrated they can make you x

[natasha911]

Thank you. That means a lot. I really appreciate you taking the time.

[careaboutyou]

Hi, the anger that you carry is typical for people close to or directly dealing with an alcoholic. I am the widow of an alcoholic, he died in 2012. I hated him at the end, he hated me and he hated his family, even though we’d all rescued him repeatedly and tried to help him.. to no avail.

I would say it took me 7 years for the anger to subside. The amount of stress that they put you through is phenomonal and like you, instead of seeing this as a disease, I believe that it was always my husband’s choice to stop, but he didn’t. They are totally selfish, completely unaware of what they’re doing to everyone around them and in denial that they have a problem.

You mention that he soiled himself. My husband was regularly incontinent due to heavy drinking ( usually urine not the other ), but this is one of the most difficult aspects of the condition to talk about. This is typical of an addict, with hindsight I know this, I didn’t at the time. He once urinated all over a leather sofa that cost £2k by accident of course…but it was ruined. It makes your skin crawl and it’s the horror of it. I too hated my husband for years.

I eventually reached a place of forgiveness, but it took years. I still have flashbacks of what I went through with it, but I’m now living a happy life.

But I have tremendous empathy for you and I’m writing to you, as when I was dealing with it, there was little to no support for partners and families. Al-anon were useless.

I would advise you to cut all contact with your brother, he doesn’t deserve to see you or your Son. It sounds like he is in a very advanced state of alcoholism and cannot be helped unless he does it himself.

I really relate to your pain and your anger…why should he be doing this to you, it’s affecting you. Just try to cut him out, tell him he’s never welcome again at your house. I do feel sorry for his wife, although you say that she is unstable as well.

You will just have to leave him to it and not get drawn into it. At least you are not living with him every day!! As you say the visit was bad enough, imagine what it’s like every day!.

I’m hoping that you can find peace for yourself and your family, and block out the menace. xx

[alexellis41]

Hi, I read your post a few months ago now and have wanted to reply for so long but wasn’t sure what to write and how to describe the way I’m now feeling. My older brother passed away last year at 41 years old due to alcohol abuse. He had an episode of drinking, decided to stop and had a seizure. This was a regular occurrence but this time the ambulance took 2 hours to get to him and by the time they did he was in cardiac arrest. I could have wrote your post, it’s how I felt, your story is so similar to mine. How he destroyed his marriage, lost his highly paid job, caused nothing but upset to our parents, tortured our Mum until she gave in to his demands. The countless times I screamed at him to stop his drinking and couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t stop not even for his beautiful 9 year old daughter. I can’t tell you how much I hated him just like you do your brother. Except now all I feel is guilt and would do anything to have him back even if it meant going through all we did again. I often thought about him not being here and told myself I wouldn’t care, that he would only have himself to blame. How wrong was I. My Dad passed 4 years before my brother. I would often tell him how he ruined the last few years of our Dads life. I hoped by telling him this he would stop. I begged him not to do the same to our Mum. He did worse, he died and she will never be the same again.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you this but I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I use to try and understand why he would drink when he had everything. A wife, a little girl, a lovely home, a great job, money, family that would do anything for him but he didn’t understand himself. The alcohol just takes over and they don’t think.
I hope your brother is doing better then he was and please God he will change and one day be happy again.

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