Sibling trauma
TW: addiction, severe mental illness, hospitalization, relational abuse, self-harm, disability
I just got a handful of paragraphs of texts from my estranged sibling. They send me into immediate anxiety every time I hear from or about them.
Everything feels urgent, like an emergency, with them. They exude chaos. They are an addict, and have hurt me badly many times.
Growing up
We were never very close growing up. We had fun as toddlers and elementary school age, but also fought violently.
They expressed their discomforts loudly, required a lot of support from my mom, and most of the family’s energy and attention was focused on them. I had chaotic meltdowns as well, but mostly turned my pain inward and attempted to take care of myself.
Things were relatively calm for them in middle school, while this became a time of deep struggle for me. Again, I kept it all to myself. My mom had no idea I was struggling immensely with self-harm until a friend found out in 8th grade and urged me to tell her. My dad was nowhere to be found during all this other than to yell at me for hurting myself and take my bedroom door off it’s hinges.
Late high school was when we really realized something was going on with them. They did zero self-care like taking showers, grooming, wearing clothes besides pajamas. They were always exhausted, eyes barely open, falling asleep at the dinner table. I found out years later they were actually nodding off from heroin.
It was hard to know how to support them, or even recognize what was going on, because the majority of interaction with them was them destroying shit around the house, screaming at people, being abusive.
I was dealing with severe mental illness, substance use, trouble at school, and with law enforcement, I literally did not have the capacity for even beginning to know how to help.
My parents were way over their heads. They both had severe addiction in their families, and (again, I didn’t realize until much later,) my dad was abusing alcohol as well. My mom is an incredibly naive person who grew up horrendously sheltered and totally unprepared for these types of life challenges. She also doesn’t struggle with mental illness of any kind beyond a bit of anxiety, so this was all fully out of her realm of knowledge.
In our 20′s, I tried to reach out, to be as good an older sibling I could be. I did my best, but I mostly only saw them when they were in crisis. Multiple times I helped them detox at home, urged them to seek help, tried to connect them with resources. They were hardly responsive, and abusive, scary, and exhausting when using.
Things always came to a standstill because ultimately they feel totally powerless, and see themself as a victim of circumstance. There is a strong disconnect when it comes to being able to take any level of responsibility for their health, their life, or quite frankly anything.
Even when I tried to lead by example and share how helpful certain things like therapy and medication have been for me, that I know it’s hard but I’m here to help and it’s worth it to try to have an open mind. I think they weren’t ready to let go of the identity they formed in their mind of being persecuted.
Reconnecting
At the beginning of the pandemic, they got sober, I got sober, and we actually became best friends. I taught them so much, helped them realize things about life, about their identity, how to survive. They were actually able to be receptive to my friendship.
They practically lived with me for about 6 months. We even discussed trying to clear out space for them to move in.
I was SO happy, I felt like I had a real sibling for the first time, like how I thought the bond between siblings was supposed to be. I don't really have family (beyond chosen-family) besides my parents, and my grandma (who just passed away a few weeks ago.)
Then, one day, they decided it would be okay for them to do drugs and drink sometimes. I urged them not to, as they were less than a year into their sobriety. Things were still SO fragile. Instead of taking my advice, or flat out saying they disagree, they lied to me about it, and asked others to lie to me for them.
Of course, our friends would not in fact lie to me for them. They didn’t realize this, and somehow had the ability to keep a straight face, look me in the eyes, and talk shit. This gave me chills. It makes me feel sick to think about.
Once this began, it called into question every conversation we'd had in the past year. I wondered if all the closeness we shared, and trust we had before had been genuine, or if they were putting on an act then, too.
It hurt so much, but I truly had no idea how bad it was about to get.
Catastrophe
After they started using again, all hell broke loose. They went full on self-destruct, practically overnight. They took every stride they had made in getting their life together, and threw it in the trash. They quit their job, spent all their savings, bailed on their apartment, and isolated all their friends.
My parents and I spent about six months with them at the center of our worlds. They became the only thing any of us were able to think about, focus on, or put energy into.
The three of us, plus my four closest friends (who had recently become their friends) dropped everything to do all we could to support them. We all severely overextended our abilities because we were so worried.
Their response to all our attempts at love, understanding, immeasurable patience, calm, kindness, loyalty, was to be horribly abusive, say the worst, most hurtful things, and honestly make me afraid for my safety.
It all came to a head when they went to my parents house one day, and refused to leave. When I say refused to leave, I mean they destroyed part of the house, built a barricade to the ceiling, and stayed behind it for weeks.
My mom called me every day crying. We truly thought they were going to die. I was afraid for my parents safety, as my sibling was paranoid, and carrying a knife when leaving the barricade to go to the bathroom. My parents had to stay in a hotel because it was too much.
They were putting weird signs in the window, and I was so afraid a neighbor or passerby was going to call the cops and get my sibling killed killed.
I called every resource I could find in our area. I brought social workers to the house to try to talk to them, called hotlines and handed them the phone, sent them links to online support chats. But they were so manic, they could hardly hold a conversation.
They just screamed, yelled, sobbed, broke things, banged on and tore open the wall, blasted music. It was so overwhelming. We all felt helpless. Obviously they did, too.
Diversion
I realized the only way they were coming out of there was when they made themself sick enough to need medical care. They've had to be hospitalized for alcohol related emergencies before, and sure enough, that's what finally resolved this chapter.
They drank so much, they got violently ill. They called and asked me to drive them to the hospital. We all left work, rushed over, got them in the car, and bolted to the ER.
After dropping them off, I called the inpatient addiction treatment facility I’d been in contact throughout this, and just barely convinced them to try. They informed me they wouldn’t have an opening in the program for about a week, but if my sibling called, they could process the intake over the phone.
With that partially taken care of, I rushed to my parents house to begin cleaning up. As I said, the area they had been barricaded was fucked. When they finally came out that morning before going to the ER, they destroyed the barricade, throwing everything out into the surrounding part of the house.
Broken glass, furniture in pieces, cat litter and food everywhere (they kept their cat in the barricade with them,) piles of trash, and when I went to grab a broom and trashcan, I found the (tall kitchen) trash can full of their vomit.
It was so, so awful. It literally looked like our childhood home had been damaged by a storm. They wrote manic and paranoid rantings all over every inch of the walls with permanent marker. I just cried. I couldn’t look at it, didn’t want to know what kind of things they wrote.
Dissociation took over, and I powered through, separating things I knew they would need, and throwing everything else in garbage bags. I cleaned and cleaned, as fast as possible. It hurt me to deal with, but I couldn’t bare the thought of my parents having to do it.
My mom was a nervous wreck, and my dad, who rarely shows strong emotion beyond anger and irritability, had apparently had a severe panic attack the night before.
I felt it was my responsibility to take care of everyone until I collapsed with exhaustion.
The chaos after
Obviously, this whole experience left me severely burnt out. I had spent most of the last six months totally dissociated, feeling as though it was my role to be the strong and dependable one to my parents and sibling.
I had no idea what a toll it was taking on me.
A few weeks after all this, my health took a nosedive. I’ll save the details for another time, but to make a long story short, I ended up in the ER myself multiple times, in and out of the hospital, countless tests, on a slew of new medications, and a new routine of appointments I had to maintain for the foreseeable future.
After this point, my life as it was before ceased to exist. My entire experience became wholly focused on my health, and dealing with becoming more disabled than ever. I lost the ability to work, to do hobbies, to take care of any responsibilities outside of medical appointments.
This has been my life, from the end of 2021 to now. It’s become impossible to relate to others who aren’t disabled. Just trying to keep in touch and have conversation feels impossible. It’s almost laughable when I’d be asked something like “what are you doing this weekend?” because obviously I’m staying home and trying to survive, just like every other day. Existence becomes a blur. It’s like I’m living in a different world. And there’s so, so, so much grief.
Gaslighting
My sibling stayed in rehab for a month, and seemed to enjoy the experience.
They texted me a few times, talking about themself, their life, what they’re up to. They never asked how I’m doing. They gave one sentence of apology over text (after being prompted to by my mom,) then immediately asked me for a favor.
I just couldn’t. That’s all I can say. There’s nothing there. I’m empty. Totally drained. I’m gone.
I told them I’m happy for them, and gave neutral responses to everything else. They had no sense of reality as to how traumatic this was for everyone. How hurtful the things they said and did were. Just as it’s always been with them, they were ready to just brush it all under the rug as if everything was fine.
This is the exact same kind of gaslighting my abusive ex used to do to me. He was an alcoholic, too, and would get drunk, abuse me, then pretend like nothing happened the next day. It was infuriating, and made me feel totally off balance.I just cannot tolerate ever being treated like that again. That experience in itself fucked me up for four years. I was only less than two years into healing when all this last event with my sibling began. I just can’t deal with it.
I didn’t see them at all after taking them to the hospital, until my family gathered at my grandma’s deathbed a few weeks ago. I wasn’t worried about seeing them, as all I cared about was grandma. I didn’t have the mental space to care about anything else.
Regardless, their presence made me cringe anyway. They walked in, obviously intoxicated, talking about frivolous things about themself while my parents and I were crying and gathered around my unconscious grandma. I tried so hard not to react, but I was so scared they would ruin this moment. The rest of us had been there all day, and it was obvious she was at her final minutes. My sibling stayed briefly, then left the room to “go do something,” and this is when grandma passed.
It reminded me of when I was 20, and our childhood dog started having seizures that wouldn’t stop. I had to make the decision to put him down. My sibling didn’t even spend time with him in his last moments, or come to the animal hospital to say goodbye. I just don’t understand their apparent lack of ability to be there for anyone else.
Now
This morning, they texted me, and I was instantly filled with dread. A couple days ago, they asked if they could stop by as they were in the area. In that moment, I was working, and having mental health struggles of my own. Plus, I have always made it clear to anyone who knows me, I don’t do anything spontaneously. People “just dropping by” has been something I’ve been wildly uncomfortable with my entire life.
I didn’t respond. In my mind, not responding instantly is not only consistent with my communication style, but also how they communicate, too. It takes them days to respond to any texts or calls.
Yet, they apparently took offense to this. They sent accusations of how unfair I was being, how I never gave them a chance, that I was wrong for banning them from ever seeing my dogs again (I’ve never mentioned any rules regarding my dogs whatsoever, although I have had intrusive thoughts about them kidnapping them.)
I’m just so exhausted. I’ve had multiple nightmares about them recently, about them physically hurting and threatening me and my parents. Each time I’ve had one of these dreams, my mom calls me within hours of me waking up, crying because something just happened with my sibling.
I just can’t. It’s damaging my psyche, my body, my life. I’m so sad.
