Originally Posted Wednesday, November 17, 2010
About a week and a half ago, I went back over to the place my mom & I had been splitting and my brother had been taking over since he started crashing there. I was there to get the last of my furniture. The event started with my getting “hit” by some second-hand marijuana smoke on the city bus, then “hit” by more when I walked into the foyer of their apartment building. For those that don’t know me, marijuana and I don’t get along. At all. It does’t like me. I react very badly bio-chemically; even a few whiffs of second-hand marijuana smoke off of someones clothing causes me to suffer random uncontrollable rages and psychotic episodes. I tried to brush it off, thinking I’d be fine; get in, get the stuff, and be out. Duncan would be there with his truck in not too long, anyways.
I got into the apartment, and mom and I started packing some of the things I’d missed that she’d been gathering on my bookshelves. Shawn was playing on his PS2 and Britney was in her & mom’s room. That stupid, cheap, POS exercise bike I’d pulled out of the dumpster before I moved out and left for them to use or sell was still there; Mom couldn’t use it, Shawn wouldn’t, she couldn’t lift it to throw it out and, again, Shawn wouldn’t. It was kind of in the way of moving my stuff out, so I went and asked him to move it into the dumpster as he wasn’t too busy. He kept playing and proceeded to make excuse after excuse as to why he shouldn’t do it; it was too heavy for him by himself, Britney was on the other end of the house, He didn’t feel like it… It was when he started to berate me in a hugely condescending manor that it wasn’t his job, it was mine, and I shouldn’t be pawning my responsibilities off on him, why should he have to be left to deal with my responsibilities…
>_< This from the guy who, for the last 10 years (longer, really), has run away from his responsibilities and pretended they didn’t exist or left them in MY lap rather than clean up his own messes. I flipped out and started yelling for him to shut his FUCKING mouth about a subject he knew NOTHING about. He kept talking, still condescending about me not following through with my responsibilities. I just kept getting madder and madder, even to screaming like a maniac for him to just STOP SPEAKING, STOP OPENING YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, STOP MAKING ANY FUCKING WORDS COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, SHUT YOUR SHIT-HOLE, EACH TIME YOU FUCKING OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND SPEAK YOU’RE PISSING ME OFF MORE, JUST STOP FUCKIN’ SPEAKING but noooooo he had to keep opening his mouth, keep pushing his point.
I lost count after the 8th insistence that he stop speaking. I even grabbed a random stuffy that was around and told him if he didn’t stop speaking, I was going to shove the stuffy down his throat and make him shut up. He just kept speaking. Until, of course, I started beating him in the head with the stuffy and jumped at him.
He got a good right hook in that I wasn’t expecting (more on that later). We wrestled, I got the upper hand, got him in a headlock and started cutting off his air supply in hopes of 1) making him shut the fuck up finally, and 2) forcing him to calm down through lack of oxygen and stop the fight. When I finally agreed to let him go, he was still very much conscious and then proceeded to punch and kick me some more while I was down on the couch still since letting him up. I grabbed him and we wrestled more, hit each other more, etc., etc. It must have looked like a sorry excuse for a UFC match.
When he FINALLY tried to get away and stop fighting… I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t let go of him and couldn’t stop kicking him. I can’t explain any of it. Not why I let myself get that mad, why I actually started hitting him, and why I couldn’t stop. It was like I wasn’t in control of my body half the time.
When mom and Britney were finally able to separate us and Britney took Shawn to his bedroom, I tried calming down but I… I just couldn’t. I was just so angry about… HIM. So, I don’t know where the thought came into my head from, but I took his game out of his PS2 as well as the memory cards then SMASHED THE FUCK OUT OF IT and threw it out the 3rd story balcony window.
That was about the time I finally started to calm down and my mom told me she’d been doing research online about my meds and found out, guess what, they cause uncontrollable rages, just like marijuana does in me. Great. So no more taking Biphentin for my ADHD. That’s gonna make school uber interesting 😛
So I went out to the parking lot, my knows incredibly sore but thankfully not bleeding… the pain was getting pretty bad, though. Duncan was there, and he was kind enough to drop me off at the hospital. Where the Police were waiting for me.
I was formally placed under arrest, though because by then I was very calm and very co-operative, they didn’t put me in handcuffs and didn’t take me downtown. The officer that met me there was just the one that was in the area to make sure I didn’t flee before the investigating officer was able to get there. We talked, and he was very nice. When the “Arresting Officer” arrived, same thing; we talked, no handcuffs, no going downtown. I signed a couple papers, promising to come in in a week for fingerprinting etc. and to appear in court on the 16 of December, and I was free to go.
So I went in to the ER (this stuff with the police was all happening in the ER parking lot) and texted a couple people to give them the low-down. The ER doc sent me for x-rays and, sure enough, MY BROTHER BROKE MY NOSE!! Broken in 2 places, no misalignment though, so no having to put it back in place.
So now all I have to worry about is the criminal charges.
WHAT!?!?! CRIMINAL CHARGES!? First off, before anyone freaks out too much, I can probably get them thrown out of court. The fact I might have to try to if my brother doesn’t drop them is what pisses me off. I practically can’t get a license for practicing Clinical Psychology if I have a criminal record. That would destroy all my plans for the rest of my life. All because of one fight that he can’t let go of and he’s gotta be the “top dog”. Because he’s insisting he has to “teach me a lesson”, he’s gonna destroy my life and my dreams. Because he insists on making sure I “do as he says” and get help to HIS satisfaction, he’ll destroy every reason for me to WANT to get help and leave me with nothing else to lose. Because he’s always gotta be better than me but refuses to work at being better. He just expects me to concede because he’s… well, him. As if him being himself is enough reason for the world to ow before him and give him everything he wants without any effort on his part. He’s not man enough to take out his frustrations on me directly; he’s gotta smack me down, then when I smack back he cries “foul!” and runs behind the first police officer he can find. He has NO understanding of the damage to the rest of my life he’s causing and doesn’t give a shit.
Now, I’m not saying I should be let off. Frankly, if he wants to get a restraining order, I totally understand that. He wants me to go to a doctor about my meds and my allergy? I did that today, and have a referral to a psychiatrist here in town that specializes in ADHD treatments.He wants me to stay away for a year? Two? Four? I’m down with all of that. Charges on my permanent criminal record that could destroy my chances at my career and my dreams? NOT right!
For years, he’s run around, treating people like shit, treating his family like shit, Making enemies, making his family look bad… and all with MY FACE! All the months as a kid we were getting tested and diagnosed with learning disabilities, I was always the afterthought, always left on the back burner. People who knew us both rarely saw us as separate people, they usually saw him and I was the echo. I’m tied of being treated like shit by him because of everything I’m getting in my life that HE’S NOT that I had to WORK MY FUCKIN’ ASS OFF TO EARN! I’m tired of people flocking to him and giving him sympathy and telling me I’m a selfish asshole because of his lies about what’s REALLY going on. When I DO get a chance to just state the facts and my FEELINGS, I’m told I’m right. But that’s ONLY when people bother to give me that chance. Both he & they use his disabilities as an excuse for him to get away with shit, but I can’t do that. Why? I DON’T KNOW!! Frankly, I’d LOVE to be able to use my disabilities as an excuse for something AND get away with it; he and I have the same disabilities even! But I can’t. I get told I look fine, that people can’t tell I’m “disabled”, so I must be normal. Then HE jumps down my throat for “denying who I really am”!
If he insists on pressing the charges, even if I get them thrown out of court… He’s dead to me. Destroying everything when I AM working on becoming a better person is NOT the act of a brother.
I have no brother.