Thanksgiving, last year, was not anything to write home about. It was the first year that it was just my parents, myself, my brother, and his two kids.
I had to take the kids to another room, because my brother decided it would be a good time to complain what a “terrible” childhood he had. People would be so lucky to have such a “terrible” childhood. We weren’t well off, but not poor. We had what we needed, and sometimes what we wanted. It is nothing to complain about.
My brother is selfish. Wanting more than he has, wanting it now rather than working for it or being patient. For a while, he had his head out of his ass, he was a man, a husband, a father. He cared and thought of others.
The past few years, he has only cared about his next high. He’s detoxed, been to a couple AA, had therapy, almost died, and still believes he is okay.
Last Thanksgiving was miserable, and I believed that this year would be better. I mean, he was sober for a few months. But then I get a text to call him. I knew right away it wasn’t going to be good. I could barely make out what he was saying, but he wanted me to take him and the kids to the mall. Nope. Not gonna happen, it’s thanksgiving and there are plans.
I get to my parents with Guy, and I want to leave. My brother is lit up, and I’m livid.
Thank God he goes to take a “nap”, aka pass out. The kids don’t have to see him, my parents can eat in peace with their broken hearts, and I don’t have to see him.
So many changes should of happened this past year. It was like nothing has changed. I just want to cry. I miss him. I miss who he was. I can’t help him, he doesn’t want it. I can’t do it. It’s been going on for about 15-17 years.
I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to care for my family, and myself. My health, my emotions come first.
I love my brother, but where he is going, where he’s been is so far off his path that I can’t and don’t even know him.
I wish peace for my family, smiles for my parents, and strength for all of us.