I’ve always admired, loved and respected my brother. He is a greenie who really walks the talk – a Vegan, cyclist, feminist, refuses to fly, a devoted father, son and boyfriend. The trouble is, he’s horrible to me.
It came as a shock when I realised a few years ago (we are both middle aged) that somehow a family narrative had been created in which I was a flibbertigibbet - I’d had a bit of success in the media in the 90’s from my chosen career (modelling/media/creative) which I’d really enjoyed – and he was the sincere, saintly sibling and always scathing of my moderate success in such a shallow (in his view) milieu.
He married a woman who seemed to like me until I achieved some moderate success and thereafter similarly became scathing about my work and began organising family events excluding me. By this time, they had had a daughter (I was single and childless) and my mother, aware that SIL was tricky, went along with the excluding as she was terrified scary SIL would stop her seeing her granddaughter. For 30 years I have never had Christmas with my family as brother and SIL always excluded me from the festivities.
Because of low self-esteem I always went along with all this as I felt my brother was a higher being – he extremely intelligent and sincere about his beliefs – and accepted his scathing put downs as my due.
He said he had a problem’ with me working for a certain network, which I thought was fine coming from him, a middle aged man who has never earned a penny in his life, a Vegan who lives off a family trust fund which comes from the meat business. He once called me up to say my work was shite’ and was so abusive I came down with bronchitis with the horror of it.
But things came to a head 6 years ago. I’d been in a physically, verbally and financially abusive relationship for 10 years which I felt unable to leave (having no family or RL support). One night, the abuse became so much that I took an overdose of sleeping pills and plunged into the sea to drown. I was pulled out sometime later that night, amazingly enough doing backstroke while unconscious (I’m a strong swimmer and/or it wasn’t my time).
I called my brother when I came round as I literally had no one else to call. He seemed sympathetic but I didn’t hear from him for 2 months. Then he called me (unusual!) to ask if he could borrow 50k. I was so hurt I said no. The next time I saw him was with my father (old and Teflon coated – I didn’t tell him about my overdose). At this meeting he started discussing my father’s travel arrangements to my niece’s 21st – I wasn’t invited. Although I didn’t know my niece very well (because my brother and I are not very close and my SIL doesn’t like me – I always got the feeling they thought I was a bad influence or something), because I was so depressed this cut me to the bone. In his situation, I would have pinned my father down, told him how desperate I was and generated support.
Realising my brother was a bit of a shit, despite his saintly demeanour, I went low contact for a few years and felt much better for it. While respecting his principles in how he lives his life, I felt I’d been duped by him. He’d once admitted that he suffered from sibling rivalry (whereas he was my late mother’s favourite he has a very difficult relationship with my father who prefers me a bit). He once admitted that when my father gives his daughter attention he feels envious.
During the years of low contact (we have to be in intermittent contact as we have shared interests from our late mother’s estate) he would send me lovely birthday cards saying that he `missed me’ and how he hoped for a rapprochement. He had divorced his wife and now has a very nice new girlfriend who knows of me from a charity I’ve set up. She got in touch and we shared extremely nice messages on FB – after the abusive SIL this was music to my ears. Perhaps at last I might have a family.
I decided to give my brother another chance. I thought he had changed. As he had suggested meeting up I made a few suggestions which he batted off.
In June I met up with my elderly father – while I may be the favourite he isn’t easy these days. He was drinking a lot and said something very mean to me, which came as a shock as while I knew he had that side to him, I hadn’t seen it directed at me. I called my brother up the next day to commiserate – unfortunately I know my father is like that with him. Over the years, I’ve always tried to protect my brother’s views and lifestyle to my uber capitalist father – having a Vegan meal with him when we all met for a meal so he wouldn’t feel the odd one out, for example. We had a nice chat about it.
But a few weeks later, my brother said he’d been with my father, his carer (who my father is mad about) and a friend and they’d all agreed that I’d overreacted to my father’s comment. My brother said he thought it best not to say anything. Later I thought, again he is throwing me down the swanny in order to preserve his own relationship with my father and make him look good – if that had been me I’d have said, well, maybe she has a point and had a discussion.
I’ve tried so very hard over the years to support my brother but I’ve realised it’s hopeless. After my overdose I explained to him how his rejection made me feel and he made sympathetic noises but nothing has changed.
It’s ironic that sometimes the people that publicly seem the most saintly and sacrificing can be so cruel in their personal life – a bit like John Lennon singing about peace and then beating up his first wife and emotionally abusing his young son.
I suppose I’m posting to see what others make of this and if they’d continue to try to make this relationship work.