Brothers And Sisters Are as Close as Hands And Feet.

I have a kid brother. I don’t talk about him a lot because he and I are not close. To be completely honest, he and I do not get along well. We never really have, as far back as I can remember. A lot of the time, I blame this on the fact that he’s a Scorpio and I’m a Leo. The two are not well-known for being best buddies or anything. In reality, I think it’s just because I can’t understand him anymore than he can understand me. We’re like polar opposites.

Contrary to popular belief, this bothers me more than I let on.

I’m one of those people who have no problem going out of their way for others. Yeah, I might complain about it but I don’t mind lending a helping hand when it’s needed. In fact, I’ll move as many boulders out of others’ paths as they need help with. I’ll turn myself into as much of a contortionists as possible. I will move Heaven and earth if I have to so that someone else will be happier and have a smoother ride. Some people may find this difficult to believe, but I really am there to lend a helping hand. In the case of my brother, he needs that hand more often than others.

MLB has had a really tough time with things. I honestly don’t know what it is or what happened that made things that much harder. It would be easy to just blame the fact that he was diagnosed with ADHD. It would be so much easier to just lay the blame for all of his problems on an issue that has rapidly become overdiagnosed (my thoughts) in this country. However, it’s impossible to do that. This isn’t just about being unable to keep his attention span on any one thing for a long enough period of time. This isn’t just because he used to present with slight Tourette’s as a child. This isn’t just because of something that could be treated, relatively simply, with drugs.

There’s some other underlying pathology that we don’t know about.

I think what kills me the most about all of this is that I want to help MLB. It’s just that every time I say something to him, it feels like it comes out wrong. It’s almost like I am purposely trying to get his hairs up. Almost always, any conversation between the two of us (had almost entirely via FB messages) ends with a rather snotty, snarky, and pissy good-bye to be reopened at some later date. Almost always when he posts a real status, it degenerates between the two of us as a fight or an obvious overabundance of snark.

I feel badly that I managed to get out of the depression that ate me alive and he hasn’t been able to follow suit. Instead, he wallows in it. I know that a lot of that could be because he enjoys his misery: it breeds and breeds until you know nothing else so why bother leaving it? However, I don’t think that’s specifically the case here. I think there’s a lot more that I just don’t know about.

And besides, if I did, I might not address it properly, anyway.

What gets to me is that I feel like I have the answers he needs to hear, but he just won’t listen. My mother and I have discussed this occasionally, and not just specifically about MLB. It’s a being an adult kind of thing: you can always look back at others’ mistakes and see the twenty-twenty that they’ll only pick up well and truly after they’ve made the mistake. When it comes to MLB, I know what he’s going through and how hard it is. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t seem to realize that I’ve fought addiction and I fought it hard.

And I came out on top.

I love my little brother. I really do.

I just wish he would realize that.


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