What's it like living with a person with a disability. It can be chaotic, frustrating, enjoyable, saddening, weird, and at times normal. My brother and I are separated by a year, came from the same set of tools yet it feels like he's miles away. Mentioning that I like him better asleep is how we live.
Our relationship has never been the best - he hates me and at times that feeling is reciprocal. Then, there's this guilt: I shouldn't hate him because it's not him, it's his disability. Yesterday, I claimed him to be dead and the destroyer of my happiness and sanity. Unfair, yesterday everything seemed so unfair to me and to my family; he has burdened our lives. My schoolwork, jobs, and social life have suffered greatly at one point or another at the injustices he's done. But, today I woke up and came back to my Ma's and saw him asleep in his mess - it's not all him in his fits and break downs of rage. It does however take mountains of effort to remember that.
In the past, I have tried to offer him some assistance so he can live the "normal" life he craves. He doesn't budge and is set in his ways of making life decisions. He also doesn't trust me or anyone. Paranoia - part of his disability - is causing a wedge in bettering himself. This continuous cycle of his good and bad days are making this family break down more than ever. How can you help someone when they can't differentiate reality from fantasy.
So how do the parents decide to settle this new situation? Give him the honor of seeing me out of Ma's home and onto a couch, excuse me, new futon at my dad's. They think by keeping us separated he'll be able to keep his calm. But he wont. It's not like I want to live with him either - he's impossible at times.
I admit it, yesterday he has defeated every inch of my living breathing soul. I cried at my misfortunes and how it's always me taking one for the family. Through my tears I packed. It felt like abandonment being placed in the second priority part of their lives. Not seeing my brother have another fit makes my parents think he's better. He's not better. I say, let him have a fucking fit. Let's finally do something about this situation instead of avoiding it. Let us work through this as family.
I get it. Until I resume my apartment hunt and figure out a way to pull in more income, I will never have a place that will be my own. Can't even call the couch my own. But, I'll deal with it. I'll cry and then get over it and figure out my plan of action.
I just wished they understood, or at least my Ma understood, that he needs to get help because if my Ma does get worse who, in the end, will take care of him. She cried and cried when I brought that up and my heart breaks, but I want good for him and don't want her worrying and stressing when she should be focusing on getting better herself.
So, that's been my life for the past 28 hours.
