Well, it's been a long time and a wild ride. I came to terms with a lot of things in my life and it has left me riddled with anger and other easily-mismanaged feelings.
Let me setup the situation for you all, since so few of you know what the heck has been up with me.
My parents came to visit Colorado on May 27th and stayed for about a week. Their arrival date is my brother Robert's birthday. So naturally they spent the night with him and called me. I didn't go there for dinner or cake. Or even wish him a happy birthday. I will tell you why shortly. I had not spoken to him in a while...at least several weeks, approaching 2 months. His lifestyle was enough to repulse me. He hasn't had a job in years (he's only 37 now) and he has holed himself up behind a miserable defense. He doesn't have a job because they good jobs require a driver's license. Which is a crock, but anyway. And he doesn't have a license from a parking ticket in New Jersey that he still owes money on. And he won't pay that because it's "the man" trying to hold him back. Interesting, eh? And he figures if he MUST have a job, he isn't going to waste his time with a menial task or a low-paying job. So that's that. And I think he beats his wife. And I know he smokes pot and does other drugs. Kinda enough to make me not like him, right? Yeah. It gets better.
So my parents told me that I need to heal from whatever wrong he did to me and forgive him and let things be OK. Riiiiiight. The next night, I told my Mom on the phone that he did something I could never forgive him for. Never. When I was a child. My Mom said she could imagine some horrible things, and that she hoped he hadn't done them. So I told her to imagine the gayest, most non-consentual thing she could, and that was my relationship with my brother from about age 4 until age 10. It was quiet for about 2 minutes. I thought she passed out. The next morning, we talked about it at breakfast at their hotel a little. And then some more during the day. And then a lot at night. The next day got interesting.
They were going to leave (I skipped a couple days somewhere in the re-telling!) the next day, and they wanted to spend their last night with me. So they dropped Andrew (my brother's 16-year old son from his previous lover) off at a friend's house for the night. You see, my parents are trying to take custody of him due to his lack of having a decent family to grow up in, and they took him back to NJ with them. See? I told you it keeps getting better. So my folks came over around 2 and Beth was here (remember her) still. She left a couple days after they did so that she could move back to NY for the summer then come back here to finish school in the Fall. Still with me? Good. So my folks and I started talking about what they wanted for Robert And I said I didn't want to hear it. They had been providing for him for too long, and now is the time for them to ask what I need. They saw the point, but mentioned shortly thereafter that they saw Robert earlier in the day and hadn't told him that they knew!!!! So he treated them like everything was OK and vice versa. Beth almost died. She turned her classic cardinal and said she had to leave. So she did. And my parents tried to stop her and asked why she had to leave suddenly, and she said "Because I love Richard and you're breaking his heart". I love Beth. We talked some more and I told them I want my brother to have a miserable life. What he did was criminal and he should be treated like one. This went on for a little while, then Beth came back inside. Having her there, I felt stronger. She knew EVERYTHING about it for many months. She helped me immensely in this whole ordeal. So I laid into my parents and told them what I need and why. I told them some of the things he did. I told them how sad it makes me when they even mention his name. I told them how angry I was that they didn't talk to him yet. I told them all kinds of stuff. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beth's jaw drop. I came through. I told them everything I needed to. She couldn't be prouder of anyone.
So it was an interesting trip. And my brother is claiming emotional trauma as the reason for it all. When my parents finally told him on the phone after they returned to NJ, his words to my Mom were verbatim: "Fuck you. Don't you dare ever call here again." So that was a week or so ago. My father started trying to call a couple days after that and finally spoke to him last night. He told my Dad that he doesn't remember his childhood at all. That there were too many times in his life that he was abused in Boy Scouts that he blocked most of it out. Well, I don't believe it. Here's a good reason. You have to be around 11 to get into boy Scouts. Which would put me at age 6. Nope, too late, brother. I was 4 when it started. A couple months before 4 actually. So you were a ripe, just-turned 8. So, my brother is claiming an odd defense. Maybe it was precognitive mental trauma? Yeah, sure. Not in this idiot. So I asked my Dad tonight...what about Taryn, my 6-years-younger-than-I cousin, who told her Mommy that Robert touched her one time he was babysitting when he was about 10. And what about Pam's daughter who got her Mommy to press charges against him last year! Incidentally, Colorado still allows polygraph tests...so he passed one and the case was closed. And what about all the odd injuries his wife Sue sustained throughout their life together..odd as in internal bleeding necessitating stitches inside her vagina. Several times. And why would Sue have had abortions rather than have a child with him. 3 times that I know of. Odd, huh? Seems like a pattern.
So my parents are angering me by telling my brother that it will be OK so long as he gets help, but he won't volunteer for help. He says he blocked it out for a good reason, evidently, and that's good enough for him. If this was anyone else, my father would have killed the man. My mother would have sought revenge. My goodness, how crappy this has begun to feel. They talk more about feeling bad for his current state than feeling bad for mine or my history. Amazing.
Well, that's all. Sometimes I feel like a dog. You see, I was watching these 2 girls skipping down the sidewalk today. They stopped across the street to pet the odd little dog behind the short fence there. He was happy...he always is. And then the one picked up a stick and played with him for a minute, then tossed it to the other side of the yard and the girls walked away. By the time the dog ran on its stubs to get the stick and returned, the girls were gone. They didn't look back, even. So sometimes I feel like a sad, litte dog.
Let me setup the situation for you all, since so few of you know what the heck has been up with me.
My parents came to visit Colorado on May 27th and stayed for about a week. Their arrival date is my brother Robert's birthday. So naturally they spent the night with him and called me. I didn't go there for dinner or cake. Or even wish him a happy birthday. I will tell you why shortly. I had not spoken to him in a while...at least several weeks, approaching 2 months. His lifestyle was enough to repulse me. He hasn't had a job in years (he's only 37 now) and he has holed himself up behind a miserable defense. He doesn't have a job because they good jobs require a driver's license. Which is a crock, but anyway. And he doesn't have a license from a parking ticket in New Jersey that he still owes money on. And he won't pay that because it's "the man" trying to hold him back. Interesting, eh? And he figures if he MUST have a job, he isn't going to waste his time with a menial task or a low-paying job. So that's that. And I think he beats his wife. And I know he smokes pot and does other drugs. Kinda enough to make me not like him, right? Yeah. It gets better.
So my parents told me that I need to heal from whatever wrong he did to me and forgive him and let things be OK. Riiiiiight. The next night, I told my Mom on the phone that he did something I could never forgive him for. Never. When I was a child. My Mom said she could imagine some horrible things, and that she hoped he hadn't done them. So I told her to imagine the gayest, most non-consentual thing she could, and that was my relationship with my brother from about age 4 until age 10. It was quiet for about 2 minutes. I thought she passed out. The next morning, we talked about it at breakfast at their hotel a little. And then some more during the day. And then a lot at night. The next day got interesting.
They were going to leave (I skipped a couple days somewhere in the re-telling!) the next day, and they wanted to spend their last night with me. So they dropped Andrew (my brother's 16-year old son from his previous lover) off at a friend's house for the night. You see, my parents are trying to take custody of him due to his lack of having a decent family to grow up in, and they took him back to NJ with them. See? I told you it keeps getting better. So my folks came over around 2 and Beth was here (remember her) still. She left a couple days after they did so that she could move back to NY for the summer then come back here to finish school in the Fall. Still with me? Good. So my folks and I started talking about what they wanted for Robert And I said I didn't want to hear it. They had been providing for him for too long, and now is the time for them to ask what I need. They saw the point, but mentioned shortly thereafter that they saw Robert earlier in the day and hadn't told him that they knew!!!! So he treated them like everything was OK and vice versa. Beth almost died. She turned her classic cardinal and said she had to leave. So she did. And my parents tried to stop her and asked why she had to leave suddenly, and she said "Because I love Richard and you're breaking his heart". I love Beth. We talked some more and I told them I want my brother to have a miserable life. What he did was criminal and he should be treated like one. This went on for a little while, then Beth came back inside. Having her there, I felt stronger. She knew EVERYTHING about it for many months. She helped me immensely in this whole ordeal. So I laid into my parents and told them what I need and why. I told them some of the things he did. I told them how sad it makes me when they even mention his name. I told them how angry I was that they didn't talk to him yet. I told them all kinds of stuff. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beth's jaw drop. I came through. I told them everything I needed to. She couldn't be prouder of anyone.
So it was an interesting trip. And my brother is claiming emotional trauma as the reason for it all. When my parents finally told him on the phone after they returned to NJ, his words to my Mom were verbatim: "Fuck you. Don't you dare ever call here again." So that was a week or so ago. My father started trying to call a couple days after that and finally spoke to him last night. He told my Dad that he doesn't remember his childhood at all. That there were too many times in his life that he was abused in Boy Scouts that he blocked most of it out. Well, I don't believe it. Here's a good reason. You have to be around 11 to get into boy Scouts. Which would put me at age 6. Nope, too late, brother. I was 4 when it started. A couple months before 4 actually. So you were a ripe, just-turned 8. So, my brother is claiming an odd defense. Maybe it was precognitive mental trauma? Yeah, sure. Not in this idiot. So I asked my Dad tonight...what about Taryn, my 6-years-younger-than-I cousin, who told her Mommy that Robert touched her one time he was babysitting when he was about 10. And what about Pam's daughter who got her Mommy to press charges against him last year! Incidentally, Colorado still allows polygraph tests...so he passed one and the case was closed. And what about all the odd injuries his wife Sue sustained throughout their life together..odd as in internal bleeding necessitating stitches inside her vagina. Several times. And why would Sue have had abortions rather than have a child with him. 3 times that I know of. Odd, huh? Seems like a pattern.
So my parents are angering me by telling my brother that it will be OK so long as he gets help, but he won't volunteer for help. He says he blocked it out for a good reason, evidently, and that's good enough for him. If this was anyone else, my father would have killed the man. My mother would have sought revenge. My goodness, how crappy this has begun to feel. They talk more about feeling bad for his current state than feeling bad for mine or my history. Amazing.
Well, that's all. Sometimes I feel like a dog. You see, I was watching these 2 girls skipping down the sidewalk today. They stopped across the street to pet the odd little dog behind the short fence there. He was happy...he always is. And then the one picked up a stick and played with him for a minute, then tossed it to the other side of the yard and the girls walked away. By the time the dog ran on its stubs to get the stick and returned, the girls were gone. They didn't look back, even. So sometimes I feel like a sad, litte dog.
posted by Rich at 6/13/2004 08:04:00 PM
3 hairballs coughed up
