My brother and I have lived through some pretty tramatic events due to our mother's addiction. We were soldiers against the world for most of his early childhood. Even to this day he is one of my best friends and I hate to think what I would turn into if I didn't have him in my life. Even with all this love our relationship didn't start out so great.
I don't exactly remember when my mother told me she was pregnant with my brother. I just kind of knew she was pregnant and was secretly hoping for a sister. At five years old I still remembered my little sister that my mother had given up for adoption. I was angry with my mother about it because I wanted my little sister. So when I learned that my mother was pregnant again I was hoping and wishing for a second chance with a new sister. I remember my disapointment when I learned that my mother was having a boy. She did her best to have me involved as much as possible. I even got to pick his name. My brother was born the day before Halloween. I remember his "father" waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me I had a new brother. I didn't care. As far as I was concerned this new brother was not going to replace the sister I wanted and I was so mad that my mother had a boy. My brother wasn't even 24 hours old when we took him trick or treating the first time. There was a harvest festival at my school that I had been looking forward to so my mother took us there.
Looking back I can honestly say I was jealous of my new brother. While I had to stay in the main house on the property, he got to stay with our mother in the apartment. I only saw my mother before and after school. She didn't put me to bed or help with homework. I felt like this new baby was taking what little time I had with my mother away. Over time though my feelings for him turned and I grew to love his chubby little face. He was such a happy and social baby. He loved being around people and making them laugh. Everyone loved him. When he was about a year old my mother and his "father" broke up. We moved a few different times but I can't make heads or tales of what those situations were like.
When my brother was two my mother got a new boyfriend. This man scared us all. He was a big, loud man prone to violent outbursts. He got my mother hooked on drugs and would beat her frequently. I will never forget the day my brother had had enough. My mother's boyfriend had her on the couch and was hitting her. I had hid with my brother in the bedroom and watched through a crack in the door. My mother must have screamed louder than normal or something because the next thing I knew the bedroom door flew open and my brother took off. I remember seeing my brother launch his little body, clad only in a diaper, off the floor at the man's face. This two year old little boy forgot he was just a toddler and was intent on ripping the man's face off for hurting our mother. I stood frozen in the doorway as I watch this man grab my brother and throw him on the other couch. At that point I ran to the couch and grabbed him. My mother at this point got very angry. It was one thing to beat on her but you didn't beat on her kids. She flew into a rage and managed to get the man out of our house. It was some time after this that my brother and I were sent to live with my mother's mom and step dad. We lived with them for about a year. During that time my brother was finally potty trained and learned how to talk.
After living with my grandparents my mother came back for us. We went back to our hometown and tried to start over. Things were good for about six months. During that time my mother was not using drugs although she did drink. I went to school and didn't have to worry about what was happening to my brother. That all changed when our mother started using meth again. I tried my best to make sure my brother came with me when I went out with friends. It was hard considering he was four years old and my friends were all older than me. I had finally had it with my mother's treatment of my brother when she decided to shelter some men who were running from the cops. They stayed at our house for about a week. One day I decided to go to the store and I left my brother with our mother. I still regret it. While I was gone the cops raided the house and my baby brother had to witness it. Guns had been drawn and put in people's faces. I will never forget the look on my brother's face when I got home. He looked so scared and he had lost some of his innocence. It was after this event that I stopped going to school. Well that was part of it. We all had really bad cases of lice that my mother never took care of. Because of that I couldn't really go to school. The nurses at school would check my head and just send me home. At 11 years old and in fifth grade I dropped out. My brother could not be left alone with my mother.
While my brother and I are closer than most siblings we still fought like all siblings. We fought over what to watch on tv, who had the most candy but mostly we fought for our mother's attention. It was no contest really. My mother didn't see me as her daughter but as her friend. My brother was her baby and she favored him as much as an addict can. While I took the brunt of the physical and verbal abuse he didn't escape it. When our mother was so lost in her addiction nothing else mattered.
My brother and I still fight but it's mostly about when I get to see him. He has his own life with a job, a wife and friends. I messed our relationship up when I moved away to follow my own addictions. No matter what though we have always tried to be supportive of one another. He is the reason for this blog. When I told him what I wanted to do he backed me 100%. He has been there for me when I needed him most even if I couldn't do the same for him. He grew up to be such a good man. He still is young and finding his way. I can't believe that I wanted a sister. I have been blessed with the most amazing brother ever.
Taya
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