Vicodin, Cigarettes, and My Fake Tits - from the diary of the Megan Fox of Ohio

Ravvenn_sl said:

Disclaimer/Warning: This is going to be long and probably depressing as fuck. I'll add a TL;DR at the end, for those who plan to actually read this whole thing, go ahead and make a fresh pot of coffee before you get started. Furthermore, I have had about 4 hours of sleep in the past 3 days, so this post will likely be an unorganized clusterfuck of my jumbled thoughts (and woes).

I don't even know where to begin. I haven't slept, which happens more and more as time passes. I feel like a zombie, with the exception of wanting to eat people. I've actually been on a pretty solid Zebra Cake & Coffee Diet as of late.

About two or three weeks ago, I was in mIRC talking to the other RR Mods. I was on my laggy turd of a laptop, locked in my bedroom, listening to my brother in the other rooms of the house having a full-blown passive-aggressive conversation with himself in between the bangs, slams, and crashes from the things he was destroying. That happens a lot with him, sometimes it's just him mumbling rude things while he's on the couch, with a random object thrown here and there, and other times it's more extreme where he destroys the entire house. It got so bad the week mentioned above that I shamefully paid for his drugs because I was afraid of him, because I wanted one day where I wasn't walking on eggshells, one day where he'd be somewhat "normal" (or at the very least, not aggressive). I know it's bad, and I was terrified it would be the day he died from the drug abuse.

While I do love my mom, our relationship has never been good, and I'm going to take this time to come right out and say I'm going to throw her under the bus in this post. My brother is our family secret. Before the substance abuse started, it was anger (now it's both). I remember when I was 9 years old, she (mom) was at work and he beat the shit out of me -- again. My brother took sibling rivalry to the extreme, he hated me and made that very clear. He's split my head open with a 2x4, bruised my ribs, broke my wrist, broke several fingers (several times), left knots the size of golf balls on my back, killed my childhood pets (cat, kittens, and hamster); pulled guns, bows, and knives on me, too. That day I snapped and couldn't take anymore. I called her at work (which was something I did daily, sometimes multiple calls were made) begging her to come take him away, and/or threatening to call the cops on him. She said what she always did. She'd tell me that she would handle it when she got home, but only one time did she actually stand by her word/promise(s); he was gone for a little shy of 2 weeks (he went on VACATION to Florida with my paternal grandparents). My paternal grandmother has been my brother's biggest enabler, apologist, safety net, bank, and all other things you can think of. She treated him like the golden child since he was born, he's 36 years old and she still gives him money weekly.

What cracks me up about her, is how she will come to me for sympathy for him. Talking about his terrible childhood, as if I weren't there or something. Things I had to do on my own (first car, first place, college, etc.) she paid for him, numerous times for some things. He's gotten I believe 6 vehicles from her, one was from her friend who evidently claimed "The Lord told her to give him a car" - I guess the Lord didn't care about his DUI or suspended license!

My mom and I agreed that I would take over the house when I moved back to the Midwest. I even told her before I moved, that my brother cannot be here, she said he wasn't. Not only did she leave a huge mess and her two cats here for me, she left my brother here, too. He hasn't worked in over a decade, except an odd job for a few hours here and there. It put me in a position to provide for him, like I do my child, out of fear. He gets stoned and eats everything, including breaking into my bedroom (which I keep locked) and eating my sons lunch food and drinks. I buy groceries to make meals, and he splits them up. Opened my shells & cheese and used my fucking noodles as poker chips. As some of you know, I spent about 2 months hospitalized and have been pretty sick. I can barely support myself and my son, but supporting my older brother has made it even worse.

He knows I'm afraid of him and abuses it even more. I have to buy his cigarettes or he steals mine. I have to lock my valuables in my car, then put my key in my pocket or under my mattress when I sleep. If I don't, I'll get ripped off. He stole my bottle of pain pills and sleeping medication from my nightstand about 3' from where I was sleeping. When I finally do snap and confront him, he turns things around on me, and makes me second guess myself, or think maybe I did misplace whatever was missing. He will cry and say how much he's changed but since he fucked up in the past, now he's the first person everyone accuses of things, etc.. In my heart, I know it's a part of his manipulative personality, but it doesn't make things hurt any less in knowing that.

I had to call the cops. He swung at me to scare me, but he swung with all he had, and it would have probably damn near killed me if he did get me. He said he was going to cut my face up. He threw and broke some of my things. He set my only winter coat on fire. He's done more things than I care to list off here. The cops didn't do anything. I guess he has to try to kill me before they will help. They acted like it was just some family spat, despite myself and my son being terrified and hysterical. He even has a Felony Warrant, which is over Child Support. It is in Indiana, and we are in Kentucky. So I guess they don't want to drive him or something...they didn't say why they wouldn't arrest him for his warrant.

That night he then guilted me, telling me that when I came back he'd be dead, and was going to hang himself. Something he's done numerous times before (threaten to kill himself, that is, he's never once tried). I'm so ashamed to say it, because that day when he said it, though I stayed home to make sure he didn't harm himself...I thought about it. I'm terrible for saying it, but when I thought about it, imagining if he did do it...I felt a little bit of relief. I can't believe I thought it, or even admit to it now. I am ashamed of myself for both. I just want it to stop, but I know it never will. Even if he is drug free, he is still an angry person and flies off the handle so easily. I never worried years ago that he'd kill me. Now? I honestly think he would if things were bad, especially if he's going through symptoms when he is out of dope.

I've found a new place to go. If I kick him out, my family will blame me. I keep being told to help him, to talk to him; as if it's that easy. I've tried to get him help for over 10 years. He doesn't want help. He has a free home, free food, free drugs, and free everything...why would he want to change? He has it made. I don't even know why I'm posting. I know what needs to be done, I know I can't fix this. I just want to survive it long enough to get the heck out of here and never look back. I've given him so many chances, and get burnt every single time. I'm saving money up as I am able to for the new place, but I am saving to get my and my sons shit out of pawn, too (oh yeah, he did that also).

It would be nice if I had support from my family instead of guilt and pressure. Their burden was dumped on me at the worst possible time. I should post the texts I sent to my mom. I begged her to please come get him, she asked me to 'tough it out' for the weekend, because she and her boyfriend had plans with their friends (a dinner date...). My other favorite one was when she was too busy to listen to me because she only has like 8 more months to plan her wedding and was putting pictures on Pinterest. I say I'm afraid he's going to kill me, she tells me to look at the fucking cake stand she just linked on Facebook.

I'm so tired. I want to sleep, but I can't. I guess it's stress or just being paranoid/afraid, so I can't stay asleep. I wake up every 10-20 minutes because I hear a noise and can't go back to bed. When I'm not away from home, I am locked in my bedroom. I listen for him to be snoring and my son and I grab what we need from the kitchen while he sleeps. If he's out of dope and we wake him, words cannot express how scary he is.

If any of you have one of these people in your family, you're not alone!

If anyone has been in this position and happen to know of something I can do for at least his anger, please let me know.

Well, he's asleep so I'm going to take a bath now (if he has to pee when I'm using the shower, he will break something).

Thanks for reading/letting me vent.



TL;DR: My brother is a drug addict and kind of psychotic, I don't know what I'm hoping to accomplish and know no-one can help, so I guess I'm venting or something.


Edit: Forgot I didn't change the font back (I couldn't see the default on my tablet)

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