Tag Archives: Credibility

THIS A TRUE STORY PART III~HOPEFULLY WITH A RESOLUTION

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My brother’s ex-wife was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer in September of 2018. Their son took a sabbatical from college to come home and help care for her. My brother as usual showed no emotion, he got drunk and called family members late at night still complaining about a woman who was just told she had less than 6 months to live.

My brother managed to go to a Vocational School and learn computer programming which can pay well if you leave your political views, racial views, raunchy jokes and ego at the door. He never managed to do this for long. His jobs were always contracted for a specific amount of time, IF a company really liked him they could decide to hire him permanently. This happened maybe twice and eventually he would go out drinking with co-workers/bosses and say or do something inappropriate causing the company to let him go.

The Court forced him to pay child support for his 3 beautiful children that he hardly visited unless he needed something from the family. I understood his childhood and the pain he was constantly feeling but it didn’t give him the right to pass it down to his children. Me, being the coward I am, usually said nothing. I was dealing with my own issues at the time. I wish things had been different.

I honestly don’t know what kind of trouble my brother is in now. I can only guess that it must be bad. After what he put me and his family through I no longer care.

My best friend and her boyfriend started to drive by my Dad’s house (the one I’m living in until it’s sold and have lived in most of my life) they would see my Dad’s bedroom light on when I had closed off the upstairs. Late at night I would hear cars coming and going in front of the house and my brother’s voice. One night I heard him talking to his youngest daughter about an incident at a party I had no idea had happened. I was furious. She was facing felony charges. When I asked my twin sister about it she wanted to know how I found out about it. I told her once again that our half brother was coming and going on the property and into the basement. It’s an older house with baseboard heating all along the floor, you can hear everyone’s conversations, you always could. She still didn’t believe me and said I could’ve guessed. I became angry and said “Would I know that the drugs were fake and she was holding them for a guy she liked if I was just guessing?” She hung up on me.

By this time my brother knew she didn’t believe me so he didn’t bother whispering anymore and brought his new girlfriend with him. I was disgusted. They still hid, for what reason I have no idea. I know he was obsessed with the idea of how he thought he was treated by our Dad and the house being his “childhood home”. He was kicked out at 16/17 for drugs/alcohol/fighting/expulsion from school. He’s also obsessed with how other people see him. He will repeatedly brag about how much money he makes. He forgets to mention how much he loses.

I began to eat less, sleep less, and became afraid to use my own bathroom. The front door had always had problems but now it wasn’t locking at all. I’d had enough. My twin wondered why I wasn’t outside in the middle of the night chasing him and his friends to get evidence. Maybe because I’ve been beaten by drunk men on several occasions, maybe because I still hadn’t had time to grieve for the one person who understood me and loved me the way I am, or maybe she should’ve gotten off her ass and chased them into the dark woods with a camera herself. I called the police.

His size 13 footprints were all over the property along with empty little liquor bottles and cigarettes. The older officers knew exactly who he was and who he might be with but he wasn’t on the property then so they couldn’t do anything. They did barricade the basement door for me so he couldn’t get in that way anymore. I could hear him swearing later that night when he tried. I felt some of my old self start to come back.

Early the next morning I heard a female knocking on my neighbor’s door. Then my neighbor started swearing at her and asked her who she was and where she lived in the neighborhood. I had started sleeping downstairs when my Dad became sick so I could hear everything. I do not think I have Super Human Ears. I did have to hear for 2 people for over 10 years due to my Dad’s tinnitus. It made it difficult for him to be in public places and hear the TV so I was used to hearing for both of us.

My brother wanted to know what had happened the night before so I yelled (the loudest someone like me can yell) “I called the police moron! I’m sick of it! Get off my property now or a restraining order is next!”. Ten minutes later 3 trucks show up at the edge of the property to give the poor guy some moral support while I had to pack to go to an Extended Stay Hotel with a very frightened dog (my sister’s idea).

After 1 night at the Extended Stay my sister came and gave me an ultimatum.

Go to Butler Hospital for the “hallucinations” I was hearing or she would no longer have anything to do with me. She told me that I “ruined her entire life and was starting to ruin her marriage”, I wouldn’t be allowed to see my nephews either. She held all the cards and I was terrified. She dropped me off at the hospital entrance and drove away with my beautiful dog.

A lot of not great things happened in the hospital that I’m not ready to talk about yet. I did get proposed to 3 times and the patients kept thinking I was the staff.

The day after I was admitted onto the highest secured floor (automatic when someone calls ahead to tell them you’re hallucinating voices) my brother called my sister and asked if he could move into the house. He also asked where all the keys were.

I’m home now and don’t know where he is, I assume running after stealing his ex-wife’s Pancreatic Cancer Fund. She has less than 3 weeks left. He’s a great guy isn’t he?

Thank You Everyone

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PTSD, Triggers, Keeping Silent And Remembering Trauma

The smallest things will trigger a response from me. A loud male voice behind me at the grocery store, the smell of beer and leather, bright lights and loud music, aggressive men in general, and even the way my Dad calls my name sometimes startles me.

Deep in the back of my mind I think I still resent my Dad for the way he handled everything. For the way he shook his hand and thanked him for bringing me home. For the way he called me a “drunk and a liar” as I was on the floor covered in blood in and out of consciousness.

I told myself I deserved it for many years. I allowed other men to treat me just as bad. Mostly because I was told by my own family that no one would believe me. I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been drinking.

It wasn’t the first time it was just the worst time.

REMEMBERING THAT NIGHT

I don’t remember the day. I don’t remember the exact year. I remember the apartment because I was there everyday. I remember the person because we had been as close as two people can be for over 10 years. We were both alcoholics. The only difference was I did my drinking between 4pm and 3am. I never drank during the day and I never drank alone. He drank whenever, by himself or with other people.

Over the years I had seen him be cruel. He had been physical with me on a fee occasions but I wasn’t a small girl and always thought I could handle him. I admit to drinking to the point of blacking out and having no memory of the previous night. I know during these times some things happened without my permission. I only know this by how I looked when I woke up and where I woke up.

I was undiagnosed Bipolar and doing anything I could to not feel emotions. My alcoholism eventually made this a million times worse. I also admit I wasn’t always nice while drinking. I could be obnoxious, jealous, and petty.

I would try to stop or slow down my drinking many times.

One night I took my cousin to the apartment with me, I wasn’t drinking. Someone thought it would be funny to put Rum in my soda. I took a big gulp and that was it. He was pissed and said “You better not get drunk because you’re not staying here tonight”. Of course this pissed me off and I thought “Who the hell is he to tell me how much to drink? He wouldn’t even have groceries or clean laundry if it wasn’t for me.” So I drank and drank.

At some point we started to argue. I remember asking him what the big deal was. Over the years he always said to me “You always hurt the ones you love the most”. And he did.

I turned my back to walk away from him and he picked up one of the heavy oak chairs on wheels that came with a beautiful table that turned into poker table and hit me over the back of my head.

I think I fought back and angered him because he grabbed my hair and pulled me to the floor. He got on top of me with all his weight, pinning my arms down with his knees.

He started punching me in the face, he wore a skull ring. With each punch he said a word “YOU, STUPID, FUCKING, BITCH” I remember spit flying out of his mouth and my nose swelling shut.

The blood started to go down the back of my throat and I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t get any air and I couldn’t move. For the first time ever I was terrified.

Eventually he pulled me up by my hair. I noticed one of the bedroom doors open and a girl I had known for years looked out at me and hurried up to shut the door. I know I said “Help” but maybe I wasn’t loud enough. I had bleach blond hair at the time and it was soaked with blood. My clothes were soaked with blood.

He dragged me to his apartment door which was always open and threw me down the stairs. I don’t know how long I stayed at the bottom of the stairs.

The next thing I remember he’s trying to get me to a car and I fall on my hands and knees in a puddle.

He had his friend drive me and my cousin to my parent’s home. He carried me to the door where he told them I fell. I kept trying to tell them it was him and I didn’t just fall.

It might have been the blow to the head because I wasn’t able to remain conscious. My Dad took this as a sign of being extremely drunk.

When I could speak and told my parents as much as I could my Dad said no one would believe me. I shouldn’t have been there and I was a drunk and a liar. They told me not to go to the Hospital and that I would be fine.

I wasn’t fine and wouldn’t be fine for the rest of my life.

The heavy chair hitting my head had actually caused permanent damage. I found this out 6 months ago.

PTSD is bad enough. When you have an underlying mental health issue like Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety Disorders, and Substance Abuse Disorders, it can turn into something much more complicated.

Dealing with Conversion Disorder has been as bad as coping with Bipolar. I never really know what is going to set it off. It’s embarrassing to start stuttering and have people stare at you. To start shaking and have your hands tremor so bad you can’t count change. To have no control over your body.

My family doesn’t like to talk about any of it. He admitted to a bar full of people what he did. A friend of my brother’s was there. He also called my brother that night saying “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re gonna hear but it’s not true” None of this made sense and my brother called wanting to know what was going on. My parents said it was a misunderstanding.

Two years later he was arrested for Domestic Assault & Battery and was sent to counseling. He broke the woman’s jaw.

These are some of the reasons we stay silent. We’re talked out of it, told no one will believe us or we see that nothing is really done about it.ddc04855251fa6c0f0d2cc95d4f717f1


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