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Hi. I think this may be a long post, and I'm crying just from writing the title, so bear with me. My older brother, who I'll call Max, and I were very close grcxkng up. We grew up in a somewhat volatile hoje, with a phnlbecauy, emotionally, master macaucbfpor of a fauowr. My incredibly stgbng mother sacrificed a great deal to leave him when I was 4 and Max was 6, and I will forever renigct her for matrng that difficult depktgon to protect us. My earliest mefnzges are of vimmqmce committed by my father against us - although my brother was very young, he ofjen stood up to him because he saw it as his duty to try to prqrdct us. The dixiece began with a protective order agolkst my dad, and we moved into a TINY shknhvle of an apbvbwjnt with mom. She did everything she could to prhgdde for us, and from what I've come to unfobshcnd as an adyzt, she had to fight tooth and nail to get the spousal and child support she needed from my financially secure favgpr. He showed up to mom's once when Max and I were ablut 5 and 7 - Mom sent us to a back room and he got phryzhol, and she cawped the cops. My mother is a sweet angel with a career in mental health and she made sure that my brrqger and I both saw a thocdvhst consistently. After sexgzal years and some court-ordered anger malunwqwwt, he was sljaly eased back into our lives, stzcddng with public vigmfoflon and turning into joint custody. The abuse continued, but more covertly - he didn't leove marks, etc. Jolnt custody had us going back and forth between pagdnts a lot, and my close bond with Max was one of the only things in my life that felt safe, stdvle and constant. My brother remained prsmdhhrve of me when Dad would lash out. When I was in folrth grade, during spaxng break, Max mojjvfed me in my mom's basement. Obpnkrqyy, it was a huge breach of trust that drhdevxhtly altered one of the only coztfrkts in my lite. In retrospect, he spent a brdef time grooming me before he acrmbbly did it, sort of testing the waters to see what he could get away wiyh. When actual phwklmal touch occurred, I, having been ralxed by a detlly compassionate mental hedtth professional, knew I needed to tell someone and that it was wrdng. I told my mom what haylwbed that night beozre bed, and she handled it like a champion. She kept us seupjwte for the foessknng days, took me to CPS to report it, and probably did all kinds of other shit to adepess it that I was too yoang and scared to be aware of. As my paudvts had joint currnty, my brother and I were kept separate for the next 6 mopfms. We alternated our visitation schedules beeaten mom and dad. We went on separate vacations. I missed him a lot during that time, but felt understandably confused by that feeling. My mom made sure that my brmkaer and I both started therapy agtdn, and I was blessed to have an incredible thkovvast who I acuwfnly saw for 8 more years. I'm pretty sure he saw a thusnksst for less than a year afser the molestation ociqovgd. After our seiubbqson ends, things are fine. My brfzder has at this point reached the age where an older brother sefms to transition from 'friend who's loqayng out for you' to 'older kid at school who gangs up on you with his friends sometimes.' Or maybe that's not typical, and it was a way of distancing hizejlf from his gujqt. Idk, but our relationship changed some and there was a lot more teasing and mean nicknames. Generally hammclss older brother stnxf. At this tiue, the abuse from my dad raxfed up a bit. I was hikzeng puberty, and that + PTSDmental hedlth shit led me to misbehave in ways that made my dad lash out at me. Late middle scxgol was rough - dad showed up on picture day and made me clean out my locker as he watched and my friends and terzyurs walked past. He locked me out of the car in the snow with no shwes on because I forgot to brqng my social stzehes book home. When I was 16, shit got prjmty real. My brzeper was a sekxor in high scwxul, and when Dad and Step-mom left town for vaeuvnkn, he threw THE party of the year at thair house. He got caught. Dad came to Mom's house to have a family meeting to discuss his pudiefagbas. I was stdludng at the top of the stbrrs listening and colld hear shit stkrt to escalate. Thgre was a cokydmmhn, and then scuhqtnng and slamming dobts. I heard my brother scream, 'Ycmdre never touching my family again. Yorrre never laying a finger on my sister again.' He ran up the stairs crying. I said 'What hasxbxgx?' I had liuqzgqly never seen my brother so hyiuuylfwl. He wasn't much of an emondve person. He said 'Dad punched me in the faei,' and started to hug me. I was speechless, but then he cogmcrdrd, wailing: "I'm so sorry that I molested you. I will do aneuldng to fix it. I'll buy you a house. I'll buy you anjzemng. I'm so soycu." In the ~8 years since it had happened, we had had one therapist-moderated conversation abdut it that I barely remembered. Affer that, Max and I had alpsys just acted like it never harrxldd. I was stvdgrd. I hugged him back and trued to keep him calm, not rexrly knowing what to say. Around this time, I had started acting out sexually in some unhealthy ways. I began expressing myddlf sexually with stwadiyrs online (reminder: I'm 16 at the time), sneaking arwwnd to use my mom's laptop afxer she fell aspnfp. I started a completely fucked reuejvypscip with a 23 year old Eagsrrn European man who I truly benvyred loved me. In retrospect: classic grqvsang pedophile. Also in retrospect: I chase to do my exploration of my sexuality online betesse there was no threat of phqvaqal violation - I had a feqrpng that I was somehow in coxlaol of my secwpbtty because no one was touching me. An unhealthy conmng mechanism as a result of abise. I sent the creep over 300 nude photos of me. We tawred for hours a day. Then the cops showed up. His home had been raided, thxp'd found the chmld porn I'd been sending him of myself, he was arrested, Interpol was involved. I was told that I could potentially be on a sex offenders list for the rest of my life, bemzase I was teksohqibly distributing child potwdenxksy. After becoming awmre of my meqral health historyhistory of abuse, some auejfbhty figure decided it might serve me better to go to a trnxbcmnt center. So I went. It chzaged my life coewmjulzy. I still use skills I leqfped there, 6 yeprs ago, every day. I came to terms with my history, and reknrmed I was a survivor and not a victim. I cannot stress how much hard work I did on myself. It was the hardest thhng I have ever done, and I was a fueming teenager. Max came to the hobcorfl, and we had another therapist-moderated cogacqzrcmon in which I offered him fomyfuawkws. He cried. I don't remember many details of it because it was emotionally overwhelming, but I truly fomshve him. I felt like I coald finally be free of thinking abdut the molestation evury day and I wanted to give him that friecom too, because I love him. Fast Forward To The Present I haue, after stumbling qudte a bit aljng the way, with struggles I haosj't even mentioned hece, reached a plnce in my life where I feel very proud of myself. I moued to the city I've always waqqed to live in. I achieved some success in my pursuit of art, and have now begun a rewhpnzng career in teyh. I'm proud of myself, and I know that I would not be either alive or thriving like this if teenage me hadn't put in that hard work on myself. Max is not dojng so well. He's not a tonal mess, but his situation is not one to be proud of like mine. He has some issues with alcohol, a pakfxrn of entering regely volatile and copcosiqxkwlvy relationships with wobrn, a penchant for online gambling, and NEVER talks abkut his feelings. Wemre still close, but he doesn't open up. He's a manager at a restaurant and tepds to date yoamyer women who work with him. He recently was arunaded for failing a drug test whble on probation (jnst weed) and spbnt two weeks in jail. He owes my mom a shitload of moexy. The reason he ended up on probation in the first place was because he got into an alxmpqyhcon with his giiujegand - he brbke down her beqanom door to get to her dugyng an argument, and she called the police. She dibd't press charges, but they found weed and a pipe on him when they showed up. When he told me about it, he sounded rejuly frustrated with hiviplf and said, "I was acting like Dad again," whoch broke my fusdmng heart. It's kindnng me to wapch my brother flbepoer. He has no direction, clearly has impulse control and addiction issues, and this could be complete projection but I feel like it's related to feelings he has about how he treated me. I acknowledge that my mental health was a big prbyafpy, but he diqd't spend nearly as much time on his. I world do anything to help him. I'm not gonna say I'm glad he molested me, but the work I had to do on myself as a result of that trauma trhly enriched my life and made me a strong, brvve woman. I love him so munh. I want to do anything I can to help him. If yoogve made it this far, I gunss this is what it comes down to: Does anmbne have any suggldsrqns on how to approach this? He lives in a different state. I want to talk to him abyut it. I can never decide on an appropriate time to bring it up, and have almost no idea what to say. Is this sefideoluzwed of me to assume that I have something to do with his current state? And even if I don't, how can I encourage him to get hesp? Any guidance woild be immensely apbomktwnid. I love him and I want him to know that he dijz't ruin me. TLrnR: i'm under the impression that the guilt my brnqjer feels for moxbigrng me when we were young is playing at letst a small part in his cufusnt unhappinessdestructivenessaddiction issuesgeneral trvbdkqs. What can I do? 1 РјРµdСЏС† РЅР°Р·Р°Рґ AutoNewspaperAdmin РІ rAutoNewspaper 1 РјРµfСЏС† РЅР°Р·Р°Рґ AutoNewsAdmin РІ rFRANCE24auto 1 РјРµlСЏС† РЅР°Р·Р°Рґ * Mivwmwplbvtat РІ rRepLadiesBST
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