Pleasures Of The Damned @newbonesoldghosts - Tumblr Blog

So, about two months ago, my brother lost his job. His girlfriend essentially refused to work. They’re seventeen hours away. I told him to just come home while he still had the money but he insisted on staying where he is and looking for a new job.

So, I’m sending him money. My moms sending him money. He’s complaining about not having money for gas or groceries.

He finally got a job. However, he failed his drug test for cocaine. Yep. While I’m busting my ass at two jobs and sending him money consistently and my moms sending him money she just doesn’t have, HES BUYING FUCKING COCAINE.

He said he did it because he was really depressed. I told him it was fucked up because he and his girlfriend are relying on my mom and me to survive, but can buy cocaine? He’s looking for a new job which he knows he’s going to be drug tested at AND HE DOES COCAINE?!

My mom, of course, doesn’t see why this is such a huge deal and I’m like........ are you fucking kidding me.

My mom and dad having been paying for my brother and his girlfriend to continue living in Louisiana for two months now because my brother lost his job and his girlfriend refuses to work. Like I’m talking down to sending them money for cigarettes, groceries, dog food, dog treats, etc.

Meanwhile, I’m working two jobs and am constantly guilted into staying at home to help take care of both my grandmothers. I’m not just talking guilted into staying home on a Friday night, I’m talking I can’t even move to the next town over.

radolescence

My brother: take a vacation and come back to Louisiana with me after Christmas and we'll go to Bourbon Street on New Years and have so much fun!

I buy a plane ticket home. Make the 17+ hour drive.

We didn't go to Bourbon Street on NYE because my brother threw a bitch fit about not wanting to go. All I've done is sit at his house, drink beer, and go to a mall. His dog has managed to completely ruin every pair of Victoria's Secret (and the only) leggings I own. I've drank more beer than I've eaten food. I had to buy them groceries and cook dinner and clean their house.

Don't invite someone on a "vacation" when you know it's literally going to be them taking care of your ass for a week.

While my mom was getting my brother and his girlfriend cute stuff, she got me books on my mental illness. While she got them practical things they could use, she got me lavender oil to "help with my anxiety." I'm grateful, but really???????

I have literally decorated this entire house, inside and out, using my money to do so. I have baked cookies and cakes and cheesecake and all that shit. I have wrapped every single mother fucking present bought by both me and my parents. I have cleaned this house top to bottom. I've put so much goddamn effort into this fucking holiday so it would be nice, since this is the first time we've celebrated Christmas in seven years. And guess what? I won't get to be here for any of it. Nope. I get to pack a bag for me and my dogs, and go stay in some cheap ass hotel room for the next six days. All because my parents couldn't tell my brother no or ask him to find other options. It's too hard to do that, so I'm the one that has to leave my home, where I live to convenience everyone else. It has always been this way. I don't know why I thought this situation would be any different.

A couple months ago my brother (who lives in Louisiana) decided he was going to get a dog. Which I was like ok cool, but if my dogs are I are still living with mom and dad at Christmas, you're not going to be able to bring your dog here. My one dog is super aggressive towards strange dogs. Like I have a hard time taking him to the vets office because he physically tries to attack every other dog he sees. I have been telling them for months that this isn't going to work. Fucking. Months. No one would listen to me. I don't want my little twenty-five pound asshole going after my brothers RED BONE FUCKING COONHOUND and either A.) hurting him or B.) getting himself hurt. It's literally fucking inevitable unless we keep one of the two dogs locked up the entire time (which I won't do to my dog). And then, there's my other dog. He's ten. He's old. He's grumpy. He doesn't like high energy puppies. He tolerates Bernie for the most part, but that's bc Bernie knows his boundaries. This dog, whos under a year old, does not. He's going to try to play, it's going to piss Jude off and there's going to be a fight.

So even though I've been telling my mom and brother this for literal fucking months, here he is on his way with his dog in tote bc "this is still his home!" Ok yeah but it's also my home and my dogs home and me and my dogs actually fucking live here. My brother and his dog, do not.

So I told my mom this morning I was going to get a hotel or find a place to stay with my dogs while he's home. I explained why. And of course I'm "ruining Christmas!" How could I do such a thing? I can't just TRY it and see how it goes? No. I can't. Because I KNOW how it's going to end, and I don't have the money for emergency vet bills when one of these assholes seriously hurt his dog, or when his dog seriously hurts mine.