We all know someone that makes our blood boil with anger.
We all know the feeling of hatred.
But you have never, EVER, met a… p.. person.. No… He’s not human. I don’t know what he is. He is a thing. My big brother, the thing. The most despicable thing I have ever met. And I grew up with it. It traumatized me. It continuously humiliated me for 31 years. It beat me. It scarred me for life. It made me think I was worth NOTHING!
So lean back and let me tell you a a few stories.
Picture a football field behind a school covered in snow. Over 100 children playing, it’s recess and Christmas is around the corner. I’m standing on the center of the field, there’s loud voices all around and the smiles are contagious. I am with friends from my class and we have been playing fair for the whole recess; for once no one has gotten hurt or angry. Life was good for a few minutes. I enjoy being 9 years old for a change. Then I see my big brother, 3 years older than me, being beaten up by the schools biggest kids; it (he) is laying on the ground and was being kicked and beaten, the bullies are throwing snowballs hard as ice at his head with full force. With no fear or doubt I immediately run to aid it, and as I approach I notice my friends have followed me. I confront the bullies. I tell them to stop what they’re doing and leave it alone. With excitement in their voices they exclaim: “We have a brave one here!!” and they do as I requested. However I become their next target.
I was beaten, kicked, thrown to the ground. They stuffed snow down my neck and pants, rub snow in my face until I could barely breathe, pick me up and throw me on the ground again. As they leave I look for my big brother, the thing. It comes towards me, calls me a little spastic for my deeds, tells me I should have minded my own business, then turns around and leaves me lying on the ground. My friends pick me up, calls me brave and help me get the snow out of my jacket and pants. I am of course in tears and trembling with fear and disappointment over my brothers response.
But at the time I had no regrets. It was my duty to protect my family no matter the consequences and to this day I am still proud of my actions. I did what all in my power to help. The thing and I never discussed this. I wasn’t going to tell on it because at the time I feared it more than anything in the world.
Picture a small patch of forest behind a apartment complex in a ghetto. My childhood playground and my childhood home. I wander alone in between the trees in search of whatever was rumbling around in there. I find my brother and one of our mutual acquaintances, “Rasmus”, a real asshole as well but not anywhere near the cataclysmic level of asshole that is my brother.
They were building a fire which to me seemed like a pretty horrible idea since it was a hot and dry summers day. I ask them why they are setting the forest on fire and of course it tells me to “mind my own fucking business and stop being an idiot.” It was just about the only explanation I got.
Their fire grows quickly and smoke rises from between the trees and the thing flees to the swings while I’m left with “Rasmus” to try and put out the fire. I didn’t want the fire to burn down the forest; “This is our home!” I thought, and did my best to battle the flames.
At this time every balcony is crowded with all my neighbors watching, a few adults rush to the fire. “Rasmus” has fled and left me to deal with the fire alone. Panic grabs me and I flee further into the small forest, however I am unable to escape. A grown woman grabs my arm and drags me from the forest and starts screaming at me. She demands to now how I got the fire started. I could barely speak. I did not know this woman but she was causing me terrible pain, it was as if she was trying to rip my arm off while attempting to deafen me. I try to explain that I did not start the fire and that I was trying to put it out. She does not believe. I see my brother, the thing, laughing at me.
Then my mother comes forth on our balcony. She sees the woman mistreating me and screams at the top of her lungs: “WHO STARTED THE FIRE?!”. I knew it was my brother but I dared not rat on him. He was already making my life a living hell, I dared not do anything to make it worse so I kept my mouth shut. A few seconds that felt like an eternity passes before my brother confesses. “I did…”. It got off the swings and shows the crowd the matchbox it used to start the fire.
At the time I had never seen my mother so angry.
Afterwards I tried to comfort my brother by sneaking into the kitchen and grabbing some candy. He stole all the candy from me, blamed me for him getting caught starting the fire and slams the door in my face.
The it thing is getting old, so I am going to refer to it as if it was a person.
Picture a 13 year old boy in a shed with his older brother. The snow is knee deep outside and the boys are folding news papers and putting them in their carts. 28 magazines for each household. We both had a paper route to make our own money. I delivered to 160 households twice a week, I can’t remember how many households he had. Since there wasn’t enough room for the both of us we had to pack one route at a time. We started of with his. It took hours and my energy was already running low at the end of finishing packing his lot.
We finally finished his share and I started setting up 28 new stacks, my 28 stacks. As soon as I had set it all up he yawned, said he was tired, and left… I couldn’t believe it. We had a deal. What was he doing? I stood in awe for about 30 seconds before walking to his room. He was already playing PlayStation. I opened the door to his room and stared angrily at him. He looked at me carelessly and asked: “What?” with a mouth full of potato chips. I told him we had a deal. He laughed at me and said: “Well, deal’s off!” and pushed me out of his room and shut the door.
Picture a teenager coming home from school excited to play some Counter-Strike and forget about his problems for a little while. I was around 14 years old and was getting RRRREEAALLYYY good at Counter-Strike. I knew how to keep our mouse (you know, one of those old ones with the ball inside (and yes, “our” mouse; we had a shared family PC)), my aim was Godlike and my skills were growing everyday. I wrote guides for the different weapons and maps and uploaded it on forums for people to use. I received much praise from the community I was playing with and I felt accepted in a community for the first time ever.
Anywho, I come home and I find my brother using the PC. He was home alone before I came. I very calmly ask how long he has been on it, because I didn’t want to upset him. He tells it was none of my business, even though it was. We had agreed to use the PC for one hour at a time. I mention this to him and he claims he had just sat down, so I had to wait an hour. “Fair enough” I thought and I went outside to practice my football skills. I juggled and practiced for an hour before walking back in the house and up to the PC where my brother was still playing. I tell him that an hour has passed and that it was my turn to use the PC. He got angry as always and claimed that he had not been using the PC for an hour. He claimed he left the PC to go play Metal Gear Solid on his PlayStation the moment I left to go play football. He claimed he had just returned so he still had an hour to play. I got angry and said that he couldn’t be serious. Big mistake. He threw me on the ground and crushed my chest in with his fists. He asked what I intended to do about it. Of course I could do nothing. He was much stronger than me and he was still my biggest fear in the world.
My mother come home but I dared not tell on him. “What will he do to me if I do?” I thought to myself. I better not tell… It will only make matters worse.
The next day I come home from school and I am the first one home. I go to turn on the PC and make my way downstairs to make myself lunch. He comes home and sees the PC turned on, he turns around and walks into his room without saying a sound.
I eat quickly and launch my first game of Counter-Strike. After about 10 minutes he claims it is his turn to use the PC since I had been home before him and had been using the PC. I told him that I sat down 10 minutes ago and still had 50 minutes left before it was his turn. I remind him of what he told me yesterday when the roles were reversed. That was an even bigger mistake. He completely loses it, screaming in my face about school hours and how stupid I was for thinking I had any say in this. He forces me from the chair and takes over. I was powerless as always.
Let’s skip forward.
Picture a 22 year old man living with his girlfriend in a small apartment they could barely afford (stock market crash, economy was fucked). I worked between 50 and 70 hours pr week since I was in charge of the butchers department in a large grocery store, I wasn’t paid overtime due to my contract. Is was the last frontier, so as long as something needed to be done I had to stay and do. Someone calls in sick? Guess who was covering their shift. And there was a lot goddamn sickness.
But I loved my job, it kept me away from my thoughts. The store was big so there was always a shitton of stuff to do. We had electronics, fresh fruit market, clothes, you name it. I was unmatched in my skills with a knife, my products were close to perfect and my customers were always satisfied. I hadn’t mastered tutoring or understanding people in any way yet and I was quite frankly a shitty leader, but I got the job done. Mostly all on my own. Yet somehow I won the affection of my coworkers and pupils because even though I got mad and smashed things in anger almost everyday, but at the end of the day I took really good care of them. I made sure they were paid the amount they deserved, I made time for their personal lives if they needed it. I didn’t want them to feel unwanted. I wanted them to feel valued.
One week I had taken the weekend off to attend my brother’s birthday. I had become quite the photographer since I had been disappearing into the wild to take the pictures for close to 10 years. I knew how to take great pictures and capture moods, and my brother knew this. He had asked me to be the photographer at his birthday party and I had accepted. I still had hopes of us being close one day, and I was still doing all I could to reach my goal.
Saturday comes around, around 12:30pm, my girlfriend and I were watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother when I get a text from my brother. “Where are you?” it says. Baffled I answer: “At home?”
“When are you coming?”
“When the party starts? Invitation says 7pm.”
“You were supposed to photograph us getting make up on!”
I forgot to mention he and two of his friend were dressing up as the blue aliens from “Avatar”. Apparently he thought I wanted to spend 12 hours of my day, for free, shooting pictures of him and his body builder friends getting make up on and partying.
“That wasn’t the deal. I am shooting pictures for you are the party. Not of you getting painted blue.”
“We had a fucking deal!”
“You never specified that part. I can’t spend the entire day on this, I still have stuff to tend to”
But he didn’t care for that one bit. He revoked me and my girlfriend’s invitation, he cursed at me. He called me a ton of names as always, and we were no longer welcome at the party. My parents were invited to the party too. They tried as always to reason with him but to no result, as always.
Picture a wedding day at city hall. My brother is to marry his gold-digger wife. (Honestly she’s a nice person, but if it weren’t for his bank account she never would’ve gotten with him). They get married. We spend a few minutes in the hall talking before heading out. My brother wants me to drive with him to the party. BUT HE LEAVES HIS OWN WIFE, NEWLY WED WIFE, IN THE CITY HALL! He just headed for their car! Halfway there I stop and think: “DIDN’T YOU JUST GET MARRIED?! DID YOU JUST LEAVE YOUR WIFE WITH YOUR BABY TO FIND HER OWN WAY TO YOUR CAR?!” and… Yes. He did. I’m laughing as I write this.
I turn around and run back for her, since he didn’t want to. Yes, I fucking reminded him, and he didn’t care. “She knows where we parked” he said. She was walking alone in her white dress up the dirty inner city streets carrying my niece. A beautiful baby girl, barely one year old. I could see the pain in her eyes as she shrugs it off with: “Well, I suppose he’s a bit stressed.”
I fold out my umbrella and shield her from the rain until she gets to the car.
She gets in the back seats and my brother spends the entire car ride talking to me about some video game while blasting heavy metal.
Time for speeches at the table. My brothers stands up and praises his family in law. He thanks them for accepting him into their family and cries like a bitch while doing so. My toes almost crept to heels, the cringe was unbearable. I can’t tell you exactly what he said because I nearly blacked out at the time. I just stared into the room, unable to fathom what was going on in his head.
It is really hard to explain to you how big of a mother fucker he really is. Reading all this back I am wondering if I am getting my point across, if I am making you understand what a monster he really is. I guess I can’t, and I guess you can shrug this off as me being a whiner or whatever. But to sum up I can give you this:
Almost everyone who has ever entered my brothers life has left him again, and they have never returned. Even his best friend cut off ties to him because he couldn’t tolerate his massive ego. One of the reasons he cut the ties was also because of me. He couldn’t stand how my brother was treating me, and he told both him and me on separate occasions.
If that doesn’t give you a clue to what type of person I have been dealing with my entire life, I don’t know what will.
These are just a few examples of the asshole that is my brother. I could give you hundreds of examples and still have hundreds more to go.
In short my brother is a self-righteous, demeaning, egocentric, racist, bigoted, womanizing, hatefilled, wannabe nazi piece of fucking shit and to this day I despise him with every fiber in my body.
Now picture a 31 year old man sitting with head in hands. His back broken from 12 years butchering away in a tempo that would ruin most people. I can barely do the dishes now without needing a sit afterwards. Unemployed, broke, stressed, angry, severely sleep deprived due to insomnia, non stop thoughts of catastrophies, haunted by my past and never feeling anything but guilt and pain almost no matter what I do.
My life was a mess. I had to do something. I had to rid my life of poison. I had to act or die. I sat down to write a letter to him.
The letter was 3 pages long and explained why I could no longer have any form of contact with him. I expressed myself as gently as possible and I forget why. However, I ended up taking the high road. At the end of the letter I express my desire to perhaps one day reconnect with him. I regret the last part. I left him with hope when I shouldn’t have.
I should have just written down the lyrics from Slayer - Exile from their 2001 record Disciple. (Google it.) The first time I heard that song I thought about nothing but his face, and me stabbing it.
However he never responded to that letter. I sent it a year ago.
Before I wrote the letter he cut off all ties to my parents without ever giving them a reason why. My mother is still crushed by this. She has always done everything she could, and I love her more than anything for it. She misses her grandchildren but he has forbidden his wife to let my mom see them.
My mom and dad had it rough growing up. My grandfather on my fathers side was a freedom fighter during WWII and was caught by the nazis and was thrown in concentration camp, but being a tough S.O.B. he survived and had my father and uncle. But concentration camp ruins a man and a ruined man tend to ruin his children a bit. My father was tough, stern and unfair. But he wasn’t a monster. As we all got older I learned to understand how he came to be the way he is and I forgave him for the doings of wrong against me as a child. He never abused me or my brother, but he was never fair either. Today our relationship is great, and I love him dearly.
My grandfather on my mothers side was one cold mofo. Drowning kittens by the dusin and not feeling a thing. Wars make men brutal.
But my mother was always caring, loving and fun. Mother is God in the eyes of a child, and to this day I would kill to protect her. Same goes for my father. They kept clothes on my back, roof over my head, food on the table. I learned to appreciate the smaller things in life because, well, it was all I had for most of my childhood. Believe it or not they won a sizeable amount of money when I was 10, and we could finally move out of the ghetto. We didn’t become rich by any means, but before their struck of luck my parents were drowning i debt due to the financial crack in the 1980’s. But this gave them some room to breathe, so they bought a small house and I counted myself lucky to finally have a yard to play in. I was finally able to exit my home without fear of getting hurt or abducted. That calmness lasted for about a week. Then I realized my brother was still in the household.
I don’t know why my brother turned out the way he did. I guess I’ll never know.
But I do know this:
I know EXACTLY what it’s like to feel scared. To feel useless and weak. To feel unwanted and like a waste of space. And I never, ever want to pass that feeling onto anyone else. I have always fought for inclusion and despised exclusion. I lose my temper when I see unfairness and always fight for the little guy. I know what’s it’s like to feel tiny.
I hate my brother now. I hate him with a burning passion for all he’s done against me.
I hate him and all he’s done and is still doing.
I hate him!
And I fear I will hate him always, although I just wanted to forget, forgive and move on. But I just can’t… Not on my own at least… However, therapy is expensive and I can’t get a job in any field ‘cause who would hire a retired butcher with a ruined back, who’s never worked with anything except psychical labor his entire life? I can build stuff, I can lay the pipes under your house, I can fix just about anything in your house. Show me a live animal and I’ll show you how to make it into a meal. Well. at least I used to.
For all of that you need to have a strong back. Mine is as weak as a 70 year old. Not just from working, I broke it in and accident 2 years ago. So I guess it’s the universe trying to tell me something.
But I don’t know what to do anymore, I am stuck. And I keep thinking: What if I had a brother who loved me? What if I had a brother to help as support me, like most brothers do? What did I do to deserve such a shitty childhood? What if I wasn’t traumatized by that piece of shit? What if I grew up feeling adequate, and grew into myself like a normal human being? Why did I had to realize this trauma now, when everything else in my life has fallen apart recently? It. Really. Really. Suck.
I just want to move away from my hatred and forget it. But he keeps popping up. Everyday. Every hour. Constantly. I feel like I have to face him. I feel like I have to get violent with him. I want to see him get hurt. I want to see him hurt as much as I have. But that’s strange. Because he is the only person I have ever felt this way about. He is the only person in the world I wish nothing but misery. And he is my brother?
That’s pretty fucked up.
Last updated January 14, 2021