I spent a lot of my younger days getting beaten by my brother. He 'kindly' stepped in where my dad had finished and when he himself became too big to be beaten and in doing so he took the role to a new level.
My brother hates my dad. He wasn't a brilliant guy when we were growing up and we were neither to be seen nor heard. The punishments he dished out were, by comparison to our 'crimes' usually very harsh. I am in the strong belief that I could easily survive life imprisoned living only off of bread and water due to the usual living under lockdown in the bedroom, only being allowed out for toilet breaks. Meals were brought to us. When we were very young, and after being caught playing frisbee with a butter lid, all our possessions were taken into the garden, and while we were made to watch, burned
As we grew and my dad got older he calmed and I made life choices which affected his relationship with me. Basically I chose whether to see the family or not and if things kicked off I would just get up and go.
My brother though lived through this and more with me and yet has evolved into more of a monster than my dad ever was, all the while bitching and moaning about how they (the parents) have messed his life up.
My brother bullied me from a young kid, always hitting me and going for my weak spots and enjoyed throwing his weight around at the school we both attended. I was usually held up by the neck, feet dangling, in full view of teachers, but due to his reputaion I think no-one ever said anything to him. Once, another kid kicked me as hard as he could in the stomach leaving me gasping for breath. My brother came immediately and hit him, knocking him over and shouting that no-one fucks with his sister... no-one but him. His reputation at the school was always bad and by proxy so was mine. He was suspended 7 times before they had had enough and expelled him aged 14 due to violence and a volatile nature. My mother kept this from my father. Even now I don't know what I would have done in that situation. Do you tell him and let my brother suffer the consequences or keep it from him and teach my bro that no matter what happens there will always be someone to cover for you. She chose the latter, something she had always done for him and something she continues to do to this very day. Meanwhile he blames them all for the way his life as gone and has never taken ownership of his mistakes and his choices. I on the other hand, wasn't graced with the same parenting techniques.
I think one of the last straws of that family was when, before Christmas in about 93/94, my brother was in a rage and he chose to kick me down the stairs using my chest as the pushing point. At this point I must tell you I have asthma and was born with a hole in my heart, so although tough, treatment like this can bring on asthma attacks or even infection which can be deadly if it goes to the heart.
In his rage, and after throwing an iron at my dad's head, he proceeded to smash the windows in my car. No-one did anything. My dad went mental and took his anger out on me and I just went and sat in a cupboard, where I could lock myself in the dark and think about happier times and getting the hell out of there one day. Just previous to this episode I had stepped in front of him when he went to hit my best friend, also his girlfriend, as I saw the same old look in his eye. This happened in a public place, a pub, and he had me in a head lock while pounding at my head with his fist. He then took my car and left me stuck in London. I stayed under the protection of my friend and her family that night and when my mum came to collect me she was given an almighty piece of my friend's mum's mind.
But get out I did and I spent a long time sleeping in my car and on people's sofas/floors. I slept in wooded areas and by the sea to avoid anyone giving me grief and asking questions. My parents had never given me a curfew when a kid and so I don't really think anyone noticed I was gone. I spent a lot of time as well at the stables sleeping in a stable and working 12 hour days for £15 to get food to feed myself and for petrol. From there I enrolled myself in Art School and paid for it by receiving a grant for tuition as well as working late nights in pubs. I got a job as a youth worker due to all the 'experiences' I had had, something I could help other kids with and after a few years working there I got a degree in Youth & Community and I could get help in getting somewhere to live permanantly.
I have lived in my apartment for 8 years. I have never in my life lived somewhere so long as we always moved around a lot when I was little, my dad disappearing for months at a time, we lived with friends and family and just about anywhere. Staying settled is odd to me, I don't always like it and get itchy feet to move on.
I made my peace with my dad years ago, everything that went between us just needed to go and I needed to move on. I was almost commited to a mental hospital in 2001 due to a massive nervous breakdown, my speech had become so disrupted by then that nothing I said made sense and I went daily therapy with a bunch of doctors scared that I was going to pull myself apart. That started the 10 years of treatment I am currently on. (I stopped my therapy in 2008, they told me they couldn't help with the issues I had/was facing) But through this I became aware that I needed to let go of the anger, resentment and negativity that had been plagueing me since I was in my early teens. As much of a pacifist that I was, there were times I could have killed the male members of my family. But then, my dad was no longer a threat right? It slowly dawned on me that he had gone though a way worse childhood than I had, he had fought in wars and seen such things that even the goriest horror stories couldn't conjure up and when it happened to him, no-one took mental health seriously. His mother had been commited to a mental hospital and given electro shock therapy, something which caused her mind to shut down for a long time and even now she is unable to remember a lot of her past.
By comparison, although 'ill', I was doing ok.
At about the same time, my dad made an ever so brief but very humble and heartfelt apology for our childhood; something that still brings tears to my eyes this very day as I write. And when he did I forgave him, I won't forget; I wish I could, but I just accept the way things were, not that I agree with them you understand but I can't go back and change things. Backwards time travel is physically impossible and anyway, I may not be me or such a compassionate person now...
My brother though is someone who always blames others, fists first, fuck 'em later and I find this situation a lot harder to tackle, a lot harder. What worries me is that he has a son and his son is and will be affected (especially as he gets older and understands more) by his actions.
At this moment in time I hadn't had contact with my family for over 6 motnhs due to something my brother had said and done to me. I was supposed to go and see them all today and see my dad who has spent the last 6 weeks in and out of hospital. This morning my mum tells me that my brother is going to their house as he hasn't seen his son in 4 days and wants to see him today. I phoned to tell them I choose not to go at all as my brother has said in the past week that he is 'going to kill me' for something I haven't and wouldn't have done. My dad was silent when I phoned to tell him, I think very upset, as his relationship with my brother is non existant. My mother was angry with me for spoiling things despite my protests that my brother lives across the street and could have seen his son yesterday or tomorrow. But then she has and always will choose her son. I guess I won't be seeing my family this year.
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